The Garage Studio Chronicles Begin

It’s been a little while since my last post, life has been in motion, reshaping itself in quiet ways.I’ve recently moved into a new place, and with it came a shift in how I create. My studio now lives in a garage, part chaos, part sanctuary. There’s something grounding about it: the scent of wood, the sound of rain on the metal door, the imperfect light that changes with the day.

Setting up a new space always feels like a conversation between what was and what’s next. The walls don’t know your rhythm yet, they listen as you paint. The floor remembers every drop of color you let fall. Slowly, it starts to feel like home.

I also started a new painting, one that’s been quietly building in my mind for months. It feels like the first step into this new season of my work. There’s a freedom in not knowing where it’s headed yet, only that it has to come through.

Alongside that, I’ve returned to my sketchbook. Started a new one in September. After the move, I needed a place to spill small ideas again, gestures, colors, fragments of memory. The sketchbook feels like a soft reset; it’s where I remind myself why I paint in the first place.

Every move leaves traces. Boxes get unpacked, but ideas keep unfolding. I’m learning to trust that even in transition, creativity finds its way back, usually through the smallest act: a brushstroke, a mark, a moment of silence before starting again.