A space of my own...

My creative sinuses are plugged. I'm fed up, frustrated and more than a little discouraged. I've given hub pages a miss for a week and my paints a miss for even longer. Why you might ask?

Lack of space.

Lack of MY OWN space.

I call to your attention exhibit A...photo above. Tiny little corner, rickety table with paintings in progress precariously balanced on it, and art supplies (some of them) stuffed into knapsack on ground looking very unappreciated. Not conducive to the creative process at all.

I NEED a studio!

I need a place where I can store all my stuff (rest you don't see is stuffed in trunk of station wagon) and have space to paint happily. I need a place that is full of light and air and peace and quiet and does not involve cat walking all over half dry watercolours.

I need a place where I can sprawl out and relax and not have to clear things away to be able to have dinner. (Current painting place is on dining table in middle of very small dining room). I am getting tired of the pack up and dump on floor routine. I am getting tired of scrambling to re locate art supplies in order to tidy up dining room when guests stop over.

I wistfully read stories where artists have their amazing studios as a little heaven on earth where they can lock themselves away and tune into the zone. Dammnit I need a space to create!!

Or am I just lazy?

Am I blaming my dry spell of creativity on external circumstances when I should be looking inside myself?

I have painted sitting on a ledge overlooking a soothing sea while the trees were on fire with colour.

 I have painted in a bed at a beach house while my fiance slept peacefully beside me.

 I have painted sitting on the bow of a boat where dolphins were playing below my feet.

 I have painted in a beautiful garden alive with the laughter of children. 

I have painted lolled off in the grass with friends...and once sitting in a tree.

 I have painted in the swamp with mosquitoes flying all around while watching the ibis come home to roost..

 Each of these times I found bliss and peace and was not at all worried about my 'things'. Brushes and water and paint were propped up on folding chairs, tree trunks - my lap....whatever was at hand

So why is it so hard to find Nirvana in the 'comfort' of my own home? Why does the chaos affect me more in a controlled environment than in the wide open spaces? What is it that is making me so unhappy that I can't paint? Surely my lack of space and storage can't be it? Am I afraid to admit that my painter's block has more to it than meets the eye?

I wonder.

I wonder why this hub has started off as one thing and veered in the direction of another.

Is hubbing therapy for the soul minus the couch?

So I guess the question out there is "Do others experience this vague frustration?" How can I solve this? What's a girl to do??

 For now I'll leave the answers to the wind and you my fellow hubbers....until inspiration strikes again.