In April 2013, I signed a six month lease for an art studio. I rented an 8×12 foot space in Fremont/Ballard, just a few miles northwest of my apartment. It was a twenty minute bike ride to a new neighborhood I was delighted to begin exploring. My intention was to spend 2-3 days a week in the space, creating artwork and writing. Things didn’t quite pan out as I’d expected. I picked up an apprenticeship, began working more hours, took on dog sitting/walking gigs, etc., etc. Moral of the story: Life became chaotic and the studio was put on the back burner. I was still shelling out the cash to keep the space, but was not able to enjoy having my own artsy haven. Tragic.
About a week ago, I decided it would be best to give up the studio for now. After doing the math, it was determined that breaking the lease would be less expensive than fulfilling the contract. So it was. The past week had been spent taking down my loft and workbenches, cleaning, painting, and moving. I planned on turning my keys in on Tuesday, so I woke up early with the intention of touching up the last bit of painting before work and walking away.
If you knew me personally, you would know I have a knack for doing the impossible. I mean to say if there is a .001% chance of stepping barefoot on a tack, I would have the damn thing embedded in my foot within the first three steps. It’s an unfortunate skill of mine.
The unit was stripped; I had removed all the furniture and art supplies. Painting was nearly complete. I could almost taste the finish line. Before I was able to indulge in a victory dance, tragedy strikes. I was standing on my stool (I won’t mention the uneven legs, challenging it’s sturdiness) in dress shoes, none the less (ignore one inch heel and lack of traction). As you can imagine, I was challenging physics and lost the battle. Quick as a whip, I lost my balance and crashed into the sink (BOOM), ripping it off the wall, exposing the pipes (SPLASH). Water came charging into the studio in a fit of rage. Unfortunately for me, there was no way to shut it off at the source. Luckily, a woman who lives in the building heard my series of unfortunate events and ran down to the first floor (My studio was on the fourth) to inform the manger. The water was shut off, but only after a lake accumulated in the room, which must have gotten bored and decided to trickle out into the hallways and visit other people’s units. Water is a curious element, you see?
Really, what it comes down to is that I was anxious to put the final touches on my unit so I could turn my keys in. My mistake was ignoring my intuition. Don’t silence the gentle voice in your head that says, “I don’t think this is the best idea.” If you hush this voice and fail to heed the warnings it offers, you’ll likely be left with a mess. If you sit your glasses down on the car seat. If you stand on an unstable surface. If you consider taking a left turn instead of going straight. If you pick what’s behind the blue door instead of the red. If you place your coffee mug on top of the car. If you try to balance seven library books, your mail, three bags of groceries and your grandmother’s antique vase up three flights of stairs. You should know better than that. Your instincts will surely tell you something isn’t quite right.
Listen to that voice inside your head that is softly pulling on your sleeve whispering, “You’re going to regret that.” Otherwise, you’re left cleaning up remnants of a fiasco while somewhere in the back of your mind, the voice is smiling gently, saying “Told ya so.” Luckily, I was at the studio during office hours. The manager was able to shut off the main water source and get ahold of several shop vacs. Five people joined forces and we sucked the rivers and lakes up within a couple of hours.
Thank you to everyone to helped me acquire the studio in the first place. Many of you supported my IndieGoGo campaign and I greatly appreciate it. I do wish things panned out a but differently, but the fact of the matter is they didn’t, and the world is still spinning. I do hope to build a creative space in the future. Again, thank you for everything. It was fun while it lasted.