EmilyDvorin

My family and friends have  always asked me what my everyday looks like. They inquire what my studio life feels like. They wonder what the life of an artist is about. They ask what does "doing your art" mean. Let me attempt to answer, in some more detail, what my day is like...

Typically, I arrive at my studio door with latte and salad in hand, ready to spend some delicious hours concentrating on a piece I am working on. My attitude is always up-beat, anticipatory, excited, when I put the key in the door, flick on the lights, take off my jacket, put on some music and sit down at my worktable, in front of my expanse of windows.  I very soon get involved with my piece. It is mostly a quiet and solitary involvement with the particulars of the process that is ongoing from day to day. The continuity is wonderful to return to. The logistics, problem-solving aspect of the process of doing my art are the pleasures for me. Figuring out each next step keeps me thinking and helps the work evolve. I can easily be at my worktable for hours, concentrating, focusing, working away and not realize that time has passed and that I should maybe get up and move, (or even go to the bathroom!). I am in a form of heaven.
Working on a piece gets to be a deeply powerful experience for me. I sit, I stand and look at all sides of my piece, I poke or sew or weave or pull or push with the materials. Right now I am working on a piece that has taken months to execute. I am at the point of seeing it almost finished. I have gone through the stages of envisioning the work as a whole, putting the various materials together , working intently on the different sections and fitting it all together. I started with pieces of suede and cable ties, in as many colors as I could come up with. I had to decide how I was going to use them with each other, what I was going to "say" in the piece and what the title would be. The title became "Excuses". I came up with a new way of working with cable ties. I embroidered with them, forming words, piercing through the suede, cutting the cable ties off at the "butts". These single words, mostly adverbs expressing excuses like "but", "also", "later", "still", I put onto patches of colorful suede and then had to figure out how to connect them and fit them onto armatures of metal hanging plant hangers.  I have two bowl like shapes that relate to each other and can be displayed either hanging in a pair or sitting on a large pedestal leaning against each other. All along, I was spending time deciding which way to place things, how to attach things, what the ultimate result would be. There is that moment when I cut something or fit something, or place something that always feels like a risk. That is the rewarding moment. I think being an artist for so many years gives me the confidence to "go for it".

When I look up or take a break from my work, I remember my "universe". I do have a studio in a stimulating community of artists in the ICB building in Sausalito, after all. I am a social being and do enjoy talking with other artists surrounding me. I'll walk down the hall to visit or hear a knock on my door and sit down on my couch with another artist for a conversation or even stop for lunch. I have two studio mates who have somewhat different schedules than I do. We always are thrilled when we actually are all there. We each work seriously on our work, but love to chat when we can. I, mostly reluctantly, pack up my pouch, taking some part of the work that I can bring with me to work on at night, and go home.
This is my world. It is the love of my life...