I don't know where you work and you don't know where I work and never the twain shall meet.
Next weekend I'm opening my studio doors to the public and in exchange, I was wondering who is willing to invite me into their office so I can see what it is you are up to when I don't know what you are up to 9-5?
Four studios into my career, my current space operates out of a former catholic high school and orphanage. It is charming, quaint, dear to me, and rumored haunted. I do NOT believe in ghosts, but my dogs beg to differ with me.
You will find my studio sandwiched between a psychiatrist and a travel agency.
I find this fitting.
I call this home away from home.
Studio visits to date have been rare, I tend to keep a low profile and my door is locked hard due to a stronghold on privacy and my troubling inclination to listen to murder profile podcasts that leave me jaded and scared breathless if the wind hits my door just slightly.
So, if you darken my door next weekend, please don't darken it too much because you will scare the shit out of me.
A few friendly reminders:
1.The elevator to the third floor is straight out of The Shining, but, it's painted lavender on the inside, so it's more of an adventure than a nightmare.
2.Don't wear black or velcro because you will leave covered in dog hair for the rest of your entire life.
3. You are not allowed to take my Playboys home. They are integral to my collage work and are NOT up for grabs the way we pretend magazines are in the doctors office.
I have some deadlines I'm trying to meet, so if it looks like I'm just staring off into space surrounded by very little work, that's just the process, friends.
Oh, and one more thing,
I can't serve alcohol until after five, but if you wait till then we can pop some bottles of bubbly and shake 'em all over some nude paintings, just like P Diddy.
For more information on Clark County Open Studios, click here.