|It served me well.|
My old studio in Jackson Heights, Queens. As I recall, it measured eight feet by ten feet. The filing cabinet at the right of the picture was a mere six inches or so from the right wall which is just out of frame. It wasn't a big space, but it was a huge improvement over my previous dwelling where I was forced to work in the living room, which meant that I could never close the door on my work. By that standard, this space was a luxury.
The room itself was railroaded, by which I mean that there were two adjacent doorways in and out of the room. One doorway lead to the hallway, the other directly into the kitchen. This made the trip to the sink for brush cleaning rather convenient and it's a feature I'm not likely to find again anytime soon.
There was exactly one electrical outlet in the room. Plugged into it were two power strips that gave me enough outlets to plug in my various lights, radio, TV, DVD player, and computer. As the building was built in 1935, the electrical system was less than ideal and every time Amy had her hair dryer on the high setting, the breaker would trip and my studio would go dark.
My view was a small courtyard and the opposing side of the building which mirrored my own. The building's super lived across from me, and he and his family often waved while I toiled away.
On summer days, with the window open, my studio was filled with the sounds of the building's children playing in the courtyard, the opera singer from my building practicing her arias, various birds chirping, and the hum of the building's many air conditioning units. In winter, only the sounds of my TV or radio could be heard against the occasional hiss of the radiator.
The largest painting I did while there measured three feet wide by two feet tall. The smallest was a five inch square. This is where I did my first book covers. It is where I did the best work of my life to this point. Work that I cannot show yet, but am very proud of.
This space was very good to me.