Find a position that suits you.
Sitting or lying down somewhere your body can be comfortable and stay comfortable for a while.
And when you're ready,
Allow your eyes to close.
Take one slow breath in through your nose.
And let the breathe out be longer than the breath in.
And another.
Breathing in.
And this slow,
Long breath out.
And one more.
In your own time.
Breathing in.
And out.
Slow and easy.
The next 45 minutes is yours entirely.
Everything else can wait.
And it will wait.
We're going to visit a room.
A room that belongs completely to you.
And all that's asked of you.
Is to be curious about what you find there.
Bring your attention to the weight of your body to the places where you meet the surface beneath you.
Notice how completely it holds you.
And how long it's been doing that.
And let your attention travel now.
To your feet.
Just your feet.
And let a soft warmth settle there.
Feel that soft warmth travel up through your ankles,
Into your calves.
Now into the backs of your knees.
Feeling warm.
Heavy.
And easy.
Feel it traveling through your thighs.
And into your hips.
Feel your whole lower body sinking a little further into support.
Your belly softening.
With each breath out.
Soft.
And warm and easy.
You'll never back.
And now your ribs.
Widening as you breathe.
Feel your chest opening Your shoulders feel wide,
Warm and low.
Feel the warmth and relaxation traveling down through your arms.
Into your elbows through your wrists and into your hands,
Your palms.
And then each finger.
All feeling warm and heavy.
And completely at rest Feel the warmth travel up now.
Up through your throat.
Soft into your jaw.
Loose.
Your tongue resting easy in your mouth.
Feel all the muscles around your eyes smooth.
The space between your eyebrows widens.
And your scalp feels at ease.
Allow the whole of your body to feel warm and heavy.
And resting.
Feeling held completely.
And while your body rests here.
Your mind stays awake.
And clear.
And interested.
That's exactly right.
Your imagination does this.
Every day of its life.
So.
.
.
Let it go somewhere now.
Somewhere inside you,
There is a door.
And behind that door is a studio.
Your studio.
Your most perfect studio.
Shaped exactly around the way you were.
You might see this door clearly or simply know that it's there.
A certainty.
Rather than a picture.
Both are right Maybe.
Notice what is made of its color.
Which is a particular colour.
And the color you like.
Whether the surface is smooth or grained under your fingers.
Notice the handle It's the shape of your hand.
Its temperature against your palms.
Warmer than you expected.
Perhaps as though somebody had a hand on it a moment ago.
Notice whether the door is heavy or light as it begins to move.
And notice.
The sound it makes.
Which is the sound you know.
And when you're ready.
Open it and step through.
The first thing to meet you is the light.
And this is your light.
This is the light you work best in.
The light your eyes have been asking for.
Perhaps it's broad and clear and even.
The kind that comes down from a cold sky.
Perhaps it's low and gold and slanting.
Perhaps it arrives from one side only.
So that everything it touches has a long shadow.
Perhaps it's a night you've made yourself.
Working late.
However it comes,
Notice that it has weight.
It pulls on the floor where it lands.
The way something poured would pour.
It has a temperature you can feel on the backs of your hands.
And this dust turning slowly in it.
Thousands of small bright pieces.
Moving like weather in miniature.
Taking their time.
Watch it for a moment.
And notice that if you look at the light long enough It seems to move very slightly.
The way still water moves.
This room has a life of its own.
It always has.
And look at what the light does to the colours in here.
They sit a half-shade more themselves than colors usually do.
They are richer,
More saturated.
More certain.
There may be one or two.
That sit beyond the words you have for colour.
Let them stay unnamed.
This is the right life.
It always has been.
No.
Let your attention widen.
And take in the size of this room Look up.
Notice the height of it.
Whether the ceiling is close and low and enclosing or far above you with beams or glass or open sky and turn slowly.
And take in the whole of it.
And notice something.
The room is a little larger inside than it looked from the door.
Rooms like this usually are.
There's more of it in every direction than the outside would suggest.
It's exactly the size your work needs.
Wide enough to step back and see something whole.
Room enough for the biggest things.
You might make.
Notice the air in here.
Its temperature on your face and arms warm or fresh or somewhere comfortably in between.
And notice the way it moves.
A slow,
Wide rhythm through the whole room.
And.
.
.
And out.
As though the place were breathing.
And as though it has fallen into step with you.
Or you with it.
Either way.
You're breathing together now Take a breath of it in.
This is sent to you.
Of the room itself.
And of all the things it holds.
Let it be the smell of good hours.
And now listen.
Perhaps the sound in here.
Something playing.
Something you choose.
Perhaps sound from the world outside,
Getting on with its day.
Or perhaps a clear,
Wide,
Quiet silence.
The kind you can hear a long way into.
And notice.
That in a room like this.
.
.
Sound has a shape to it.
And very nearly a colour.
Listen for that.
It's been there the whole time.
Bring your attention down now.
Down to the floor.
Feel it underneath you.
Notice its surface.
Is it smooth or grained or soft?
Notice whether it gives a little under your weight.
Or holds it firm.
Take a few steps across it Listen to the sound your feet make.
And notice how the room answers it.
This floor takes your whole weight easily.
You can walk on it Work on it.
Move across it.
Mark it.
Lie down on it.
And underneath it.
A long way down.
Under the boats.
Into the foundations the whole weight of the ground.
Holding this room up.
Oh,
It's been doing that for a very long time and it's good at it.
Feel how much flow there is.
And all of this ground is yours.
And now let your attention Find a place in this room where the work happens.
It might be a surface.
Or an open span of floor.
Or a corner with the best light?
Maybe it's a place to sit.
Or a place to stand.
Go to it now.
Notice its height and how it meets your body.
Where your hands fall.
How your shoulders sit.
What your spine does when you're here.
Notice how the light reaches it.
How it arrives here first and best.
As though the room had arranged itself around this spot.
This place fits you.
It was measured to you alone.
Everything.
At the height it should be.
And the reach it should be.
Your body is comfortable here for hours.
Look around now.
At what this room holds.
Everything you reach for is here.
And it's exactly where your hand expects it to be.
Whatever you work with is here in abundance.
Plentiful.
Generous.
Replenished.
Every quality,
Every weight,
Every grade,
Every color.
And colours beyond the ones with names.
And more of it arrives as you use it.
Look at the sheer quantity of it,
The stacks and rows and ranks of it,
Going back further than you can quite see.
There's room for experiments.
Room for pieces made only to find something out.
Room for the ones that went sideways and taught you the most.
They all get to stay.
They all belong here.
And notice this room is entirely on your side.
And it has all the time in the world.
Somewhere in this room,
There's a way of looking out.
Find it.
And go to it.
What is beyond?
Perhaps a city busy with itself.
Perhaps water,
Trees,
Weather.
May be a long horizon.
Maybe a street.
Allow your eyes to rest on it for a moment.
Let them focus a long way off.
And feel what that does to the muscles around your eyes.
Feel how they lengthen.
And soften.
And the weather out there is doing something worth watching.
It usually is from this window.
The light changes while you look.
Cloud moving away from the sun,
The whole view brightening a degree and then settling.
This is the view you look up into when you need to look at something far away.
It's here whenever you want it.
And now.
.
.
Turned back into their room.
Somewhere in here is something of yours that's in progress.
It might be right in front of you.
It might be a shape held in the air,
A phrase of movement,
An idea with its edges just beginning to form.
Go and stand near it.
And notice that it's very slightly alive.
It has a pulse to it.
Its own,
A little slower than yours.
It's been going on quietly here while you were elsewhere.
Thinking its own thoughts about what it wants to be.
Look at it the way this room looks at it.
Look at it with interest with patience.
With plenty of time.
It's allowed to be unfinished.
That's exactly what's right for it for now.
And you're allowed to be in the middle of it.
Which is where all the real work happens.
Notice how time moves in this studio.
Slow.
Wide.
Generous.
And inherit.
The way honey comes off a spoon.
There's a whole day in here.
And every hour belongs to you and the hours are longer in this room than outside it.
You may have noticed.
In this room,
You get to be slow.
You get to circle one thing for a whole afternoon.
Make it three times over to find the one that's alive and stand completely still.
And simply look.
And you get to work fast when fast is what wants to happen.
And this room keeps pace with you exactly.
There is time.
There has always been time.
Now let yourself begin.
Whatever beginning looks like for you.
The first mark,
The first movement,
The first line,
The first sound,
The first breath.
Let it happen.
And now notice what it feels like in your body when your work is going well.
That warmth through your chest and hands.
Keep that steadiness low in your belly.
You're breathing even and easy.
And the quiet absorbed attention.
Where the edges of the room go soft and generous.
And the light comes down a shade warmer and time stops announcing itself.
Until there's only this.
And the thing you're making.
And the space between the two of you growing smaller and smaller.
Until,
For a moment,
You can hardly say which of you is doing the making.
This.
Is what you're made for.
Stay here.
And now,
Slowly,
Come back to the middle of the room.
Turn once and take it all in.
The light still moving.
The height of it.
The breathing air.
A place where work happens.
The work itself.
Alive and patient.
Exactly as you left it And know this.
This studio is inside you.
You made it.
Which means you carry it.
Into the kitchen at seven in the morning onto a train,
Into a borrowed room.
A tenth of this size.
This room is portable.
This light is portable.
This time is portable.
Now press your feet gently into the ground beneath you.
And feel the whole of this room in that small pressure.
Your feet on the ground,
The studio with you.
And from here on,
Whenever you press your feet into the floor before you begin.
This room comes with you.
And now this peace is coming to its end.
And you get to choose how.
You might stay.
If this is somewhere to rest,
Then rest.
Let my voice go quiet and stay as long as you like.
In the light with the dust turning.
And the work waiting patiently.
Sleep if sleep is what comes next.
Their room keeps.
It will be exactly like this when you come back.
Or you might come with me.
Out into your day.
If that's you.
Let a gentle brightness come into your hands and your feet.
Take one full breath.
And let it come all the way out.
Let your face do whatever it does when something pleases you.
Feel the room you're actually in.
The surface beneath you.
The air on your skin.
The sound of the building or the streets.
All the morning.
All the day.
And when you're ready.
In your own time.
At your own pace.
As slowly as you like,
Let your eyes open.
And notice.
You've brought the studio out with you.
The light came too.
So did the time.
So go and make something today.
Even a small thing.
Even just for 10 minutes and make it gladly.
The way you did before anyone was watching.
Because that was always the good part of making.
The finished thing is the evidence.
The making is the life.
You
