This last week saw the dis-assembly of what has been my studio-office for the past two years. I sank into the space over time, for both my Day Job office and also a place to harbor dreams of making stuff as the Night Job.
I could walk to it from my home. It was an excellent size even if strangely elongated, it had built in shelving, internet, and a few things that my previous studio did not have, such as heat, air conditioning, and a bathroom. Layers of luxury. Shit, I even found a used fridge and microwave.
There was however exposed duct work, massive bundles of free hanging relic wires of some previous server farm and phone line hubs. It was at the end of a dark hallway. It had only one hardwired ancient florescent light fixture literally dangling from the ceiling you had to hit with a broom handle to get to work. “Whatever!” I thought, “It’s MINE.” it just made it homier, or made the rent of it either actually less expensive, or made the expense easier to justify.
But so the economy of my world has shifted to the uncomfortable as I have recently had a case of ‘the downsized’ from Day Job. It’s uncomfortable to even type. But now is the time to be uncomfortable, and there’s the part of me that craves that. Nothing moves you like being uncomfortable. You have to move.
I have hope that the work will be faster, leaner, stronger.
I’ve often said ‘More Soon’ as a mantra and motto. Not anymore. No choice but to push and put it before you and see what you say. Nothing counts but now.