The Studio as Portal

The studio has always felt like a kind of in-between space — not entirely part of the real world, but not completely separate either. When I step inside, it’s like the air changes. Time slows down. There’s a quiet hum, a different frequency that starts to take over.

It’s not about decoration or tools; it’s about the shift that happens when I cross that threshold. The studio becomes a portal — not one that takes me elsewhere, but one that brings me closer to something. Closer to awareness, to mystery, to the strange sense that the work is already waiting for me there, half-formed.

Some days, the studio feels like an altar; other days, it’s a battlefield. But either way, it’s a space for surrender. I’ve learned that the best thing I can do is show up and listen — to the paper, to the paint, to whatever wants to come through. The rest is trust.

The studio doesn’t demand perfection. It just asks for presence.

“Developed through a collaborative process between the artist and AI (ChatGPT), then refined through personal editing and intuition.”