Two professors at The Art Institute of Chicago have published a new book,
The Studio Reader, a compendium of essays by different artists and theorists concerning both the physical and conceptual space where art is made it. What's so interesting about the text is how it undresses so many popular notions about what and where a studio is. Cultural imagination has long been dominated by images of the studio as a illusive and esoteric, if not magical, space where the isolated artist spends sleepless nights facing down the muses. Countless photographs in contemporary catalogs share this idea, be they of Francis Bacon's mare's nest London, or Jackson Pollock's cramped barn in East Hampton, or Bruce Nauman's ranch in New Mexico. Most working artists have different ideas about their studio: yes, it is a place where lightning is said to occasionally strike, but it is also a place where coffee is brewed, the paper is read, the dog takes a nap. What does the studio mean to you, and where is it? For some the studio is a free-standing garage, for others a converted store front, for some the kitchen table. Where is your place of practice?
