January was a wild month. We spent the beginning of the new year packing and moving our live/work studio including a full wood & metal shop AND one bedroom apartment. Now safely into February (and our new spaces) we’re setting up or better yet, resetting.

‍

notes on THE RESET

the beautifully necessary evil

‍

• Notwithstanding a fair amount of decision fatigue, having the opportunity to take stock in each individual item that makes up your life and ask ‘are you in or are you out?’ it's special. Letting go is fundamental to moving forward.
  ‍
• Woodshops become really static. Once you’ve leveled machines and the space starts filling with prototypes, materials and jigs it becomes really difficult to change or rearrange the set up. Setting up anew with attention to new priorities. The gift of a do-over.
  ‍
• Good energy in, bad energy out! Smudge, say a prayer, perform a homemade ritual or ceremony. Anything that helps you cleanse or bless the space for a fresh start.
  ‍
• LIGHT! We were basically working in a dungeon, so i’m pretty obsessed with simply having windows.
  ‍
  

• The end of the live/work. Living in your studio has a certain romance to it. Waking up to find your entire creative apparatus on the other side of a wall can be really energizing and convenient (especially during a Montreal winter). But after nearly three years sharing my home with a woodshop, the novelty definitely wore off.  Leaving my live/work in a major city in the year 2026 likely means this is something I will never have again. Spaces that allow for that kind of lifestyle are quickly becoming extinct. But in the spirit of moving forward I’ve come to appreciate the little things that come with having a separate workspace. I relish the short commute to work, leaving in the morning and joining the masses as they make their way to their respective jobs (funny how things you once instinctively can become novel). In turn, leaving the studio and treating my home as a work free sanctuary. Everyone makes their own path, and for a while I loved living in the shop, but the balance I've found by separating my spaces has already contributed to improved mental health and reduced feelings of burn out.

‍

Closing these thoughts with a final RIP to the space that started me, to the space I started. It housed me and my creations. It flooded at least twice a year. It was the last industrial building on a street now lined with townhouses selling for six figures. It was a playground, a beautiful mess and in spite of my relief to be out, I'm really gonna miss it.

‍

‍

‍

‍

‍

‍

‍