What is the craziest question you have ever been asked?
I will share mine with you.
A strangely large handful of people have visited my studio this season and asked me, without sarcasm,
“where do you sell your art?”
As I sit behind my little square register, surrounded by my art, with price tags hanging off of jewelry and tiny, helpful signs everywhere, I answer with surprising cheerfulness. “Right here!”
In my head, I say,
“This is my studio. This is where I make the art. This is where I sell the art. It sits on the incredible bike trail you are traveling. The vibe has pulled you in here. The garden, the chickens, the barn quilts, the information sign; all these things have cultivated an atmosphere that invites you to stop your pedaling and take the few steps to my front porch.”
Part of me understands the question. The world has been taught that artists must fit into certain boxes to survive. An artist must be represented in a gallery. An artist must travel the country or county with a little tent to sell their wares. An artist must seek out cosmopolitan customers in order to sell.
These things might still be true for some artists. But the world has changed since these things even matter anymore. The game has been blown wide open. An artist can make a living in these ways.
But she no longer must.
I spent 3 sleepless months from November to January of 2015, pouring over every single scrap of literature written about the phenomenon of Trail Towns. I had made it my mission to purchase my little brick Whitsett house, knowing that a bike trail property was a smart business plan for someone like me.
I didn’t have a studio yet, the house had been sitting empty for years and was just on the edge of being habitable.
The Ruins was simply a giant cement canvas in-waiting.
Snakes living in the crawl space of my bedroom. My life turned upside down with a big question mark hanging over it, and a winter looming with most of what I owned in a storage space. In some ways, I feel like I just now dug out of that pit of despair. Those painful tribulations stay with a person.
The Back Porch January 2015
Battle Royale with the final House Snake (photo courtesy of Laura Paull)
Seven years later and The Studio has become a familar way station for bikers of The Great Allegheny Passage. Some come in for the Leona’s Ice Cream (four years and counting as their farthest delivery venue!) Some make the journey here to learn more about The Ruins Project and book a future tour. But many come in with a particular curiosity for art. Some days I make a kiln full of clay bike magnets. Other days, you can hear me hammering metal for future jewelry pieces. If you’re very lucky, you may see my torch lit up as I pull threads of intuitivemalmischiato glass.
Most things I do here in this compact 480 square foot studio are about making a living doing what I love.
From the Off Grid Series: House #10
I have battled snakes with pick axes and shovels to get here to this place. This place that I can now invite you into so you can share in some of its magic. You can quite literally take a piece of me home with you. Because my art is me. It represents not just tesserae and mortar on a substrate. It represents the battles I fought to get here, to this moment in time, when you choose to not pass on by, but climb my steps, walk through my green door and ask, “where do you sell your art?”
One of my favorite bits of unsolicited advice that I find myself giving to young artists is to buy a bike trail property. Do some research on the Rails to Trails in your area. Look for a fixer upper that can be seen from the trail. Being close enough to be seen is important.
You may have to battle some snakes to make a living, but take my word for it; its worth it.
Note on purchasing: We are adding lots of new and beautiful mosaics to the website in the next few weeks. Keep checking in so you don’t miss out!
