The studio, to me, is a sacred place. It's more than just four walls and a roof; it's a sanctuary, a portal, it’s freedom. It's where everything gives way to the realm of imagination, where ideas take shape, where the unseen becomes visible, where everything is possible.
In it time bends and stretches and warps. A single moment can be drawn out into an eternity. Hours are reduced to an instant. It's everchanging but forever familiar. The outside world fades, its noises and distractions, and all becomes one, only one.
The tools of the trade – brushes, paints, clay, canvases, paper, words – are not mere objects; they are repositories of potential. They must be treated with reverence, arranged with care, enjoyed like if each and everyone of them were the first and the last.
The studio is a place of solitude, a space for introspection and discovery. But it's also a place of connection. It connects with the past and the now and the what’s to come, with those who are touched by the new creatures born in that space.
The studio is a sacred place because it is a place of transformation. It's where raw materials are transformed into tangible forms. It is a place of magic, where the ordinary becomes extraordinary, and where the invisible becomes visible. It’s like a garden of the imagination. It’s oxygen.

“The desert’s margins will surprise you” (Oil on canvas - 16 x 20”)