On Wednesday, Ed the owner and director of the Art Farm,
picked me up at the bus depot in Grand Island. He was exactly as I had imagined
him: tall and thin, with a great Midwestern drawl. He grew up in Marquette,
Nebraska, and when he inherited the family farm, he decided to turn it into a
sanctuary for artists of all kinds. 22 years later and here we are!
As we drove towards the farm, he told me about the historic
Mormon Trail and the famed Oregon Trail that pass through this area. We crossed
the Platte River which was brown from rain. Normally, the river is bone dry and
people can drive their cars down the riverbed! As many of you may know, the
middle of the country has been getting an unusual amount of rain this spring…
I live in the farmhouse where Ed grew up; it was built in
the early 1800’s and still standing strong (sort of). My room is upstairs in
the attic and the staircase is so steep that I’ve got to walk down it face
forward. I’ve got some roommates in the walls – a raucous band of raccoons that
wake me up in the middle of the night with their terrific thumps and wild
chattering. It sounds like they’re have an all-night dance party up there, or
maybe running foot races. Anyway, I’m getting used to them but I bought some
ear plugs just in case.
We can choose any studio space on the farm as long as it’s
available. I chose a barn across the way from the farmhouse – important
proximity to the kitchen ensures constant access to tea! I felt like one of TheBoxcar Children as I organized my space, dusting shelves and arranging flowers.
It feels nice to make something cozy out of a hollow boxcar/barn. Just outside
the door, I can see an old car painted crazy colors and a fairy house made of
wire, gifts from past artists. Sometimes, a marshmallow-tailed bunny hops by or
a swallowtail might stop in to say hello. I also share the space with a little
field mouse that pops his head out every day to make sure I’m working.
In my studio, I can spread out and stalk the floor, or curl
up in a cozy arm chair. I have decorated my studio with found artwork left
behind by past residents. The walls have splashes of color and paint drips from
previous tenants. It makes me happy to know that so many have come before me
and blessed this space with their creative spirits.
Without outside
stimulation from the internet or my cell phone, I find myself sinking into a
place where my soul can stretch its wings and fly. This place isn’t even that
remote by my standards. In my travels, I have often been in remote places such
as the Amazon rainforest or the middle of the Mediterranean. The difference is
that now, for the first time ever, my focus is on CREATING. There is nothing
else I need to be doing besides writing my little heart out. And let me tell you what – it’s a delicious feeling!
With each passing day, I learn more about my process and my
projects. I am figuring out my flow – what works, what doesn’t. But mainly, I
am sitting my butt in this chair and writing.