In the summer of 2010, I had pursued my vision of getting my own art studio with such a relentless ambition that I didn't even tell my fiancé about it. I had hung my paintings just in time to have my first open studio on a muggy Friday the 13th, undaunted by any superstition. My family worked tirelessly to install my window air conditioner just in time to keep the studio cool for my new visitors. I had drawn a floor plan, but there wasn't enough time to move all my furniture in, so I decided to set up my sparsely furnished studio as though it were a gallery. I was determined not to let anything get in my way.
In the summer of 2010, I had embarked upon one of the most challenging ventures of my life. I had been dreaming of getting my own art studio since my creativity class in fall 2007 when I was in grad school at Governors State University. That summer, I had finally been able to make that dream a reality. I had wanted it more than anything.
In the summer of 2010, I had also wanted to get married and become a homeowner. But there were too many outside factors involved, and those plans hadn't yet worked out. As a result, having a studio of my own became even more important to me. I had been elaborating on my vision for my studio for the past three years. I made sketches, then floor plans. Then I devised a color scheme: primary triads and rainbows. My accessories would be objects that were functional, simple in form, and all of a single color, mod, midcentury, industrial, and contemporary. Little by little, from Etsy and eBay, vintage sales and discount stores, I began to acquire them. I stored the accoutrements of my future art studio in boxes in my cramped studio apartment until I was finally able to move them into their rightful place.
In the summer of 2010, I still didn't have an easel. But that didn't matter much because I had decided that small was the new big, and started working on new pieces that were 8" x 10" and miniatures the size of index cards and business cards. I thought I would sell a lot of them since they were much less expensive than my larger works.
All I could see were unlimited opportunities to sell as much art as possible. I had just sold four large paintings, and the profits I made would pay for several months of studio rent in advance. Surely I would sell even more art once I had my studio set up. And once I got married, my husband's income would help offset my living expenses, so I wouldn't have to worry as much about paying for the studio while also repaying my student loans. In the summer of 2010, it seemed like my vision for my life was finally coming together.
But in the fall of 2010, everything fell apart.