The window of my office overlooks a pond. Lately a pair of terns have been fishing out there. I think I’m going to stuff some minnows with hashish and put them in the pond. Thus leaving no tern unstoned.
Thanks so much to everyone who added their thoughtful comments. It really helped form the debate in my head. I probably will go on some meds, but I’m going to keep a sharp eye out for any degredation of the Bob in Bob.
Rache mentioned that her workspaces are studies in chaos. That would be a study in understatement for me. In the late eighties I had a studio downtown. It was a building that used to be used by printers, so there were large open press rooms that were ideal for photography studios. So the building was an enclave of creatives. Small agencies and design shops, one person operations and even a printer or two were left. I had a great little space, long and narrow, with a parquet floor and a built in work surface along one side. I was on the sixth floor and had a great view of the east side of downtown. I could see the Metrodome a few blocks away. I even had a sink so I could clean my brushes. It was ideal. What a mess I made of it. Every surface was piled high with papers and supplies and illustration board. Tools would disappear as if into a black hole. It was what my home would look like if I’d stayed single. A scary thought.
The ad business was going into the shitter at that time and it was really tough on marginal operators like me. I used to spend much of my days sitting around with other photographers and artists who weren’t busy and moaning about the situation. One day I found a couch that someone had left out for the garbage collectors. I got my brother-in-law to use his truck to help me get it up to studio. Big mistake. I ended up sleeping most of that last year I was in business for myself.