We Got the Smallest Room; Here's Why It Was Perfect
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Hello Reader, When the Closet Becomes the Gallery Sometimes the universe doesn't give you what you asked for, it gives you something better. A couple of weeks ago, I had the privilege of being part of the Ceramics X Fiber exhibition alongside my incredibly talented friend and ceramist, Michaela Ayers. The show took place during the NCECA National Convention, and honestly? It turned into one of the most meaningful creative experiences I've had in a long time. But let me be real with you it didn't start that way. The Rocky Start (aka, Read the Fine Print) When we were given the opportunity to select our preferred placement in the exhibition space, Michaela and I submitted our top three choices. Confident. Intentional. Ready. We didn't get a single one of them. Instead, we were assigned the smallest room in the entire building. And when I say small, I mean small. Why? Because I made a rookie mistake: I forgot to include the dimensions of our exhibit in the placement request. Completely my fault, and I owned it. We did have the option to move into a larger, open space. And for a moment, I considered it. But something stopped me, that quiet, unwavering voice in my gut that has never once led me astray. So I turned to Michaela and said, let's stay. Let's scale back and make this space ours. That decision changed everything. The Art of Memory Our exhibition was titled "The Art of Memory" a deeply personal installation honoring our ancestors and the richness of the African American experience. Our palette was blue and gold, and every element we incorporated carried intention, weight, and meaning. As we began installing, we noticed something almost poetic: the room was already blue. It was the only room in the entire building with color on its walls. It felt less like a coincidence and more like a confirmation. During the reception, which was beautifully well-attended, our little room became a destination. People walked in and stopped. They exhaled. They felt something. The feedback we received was some of the most inspiring and heartfelt I've ever experienced as an artist. The response we heard most often? "I felt so calm walking in there. So serene." Patrons and fellow artists alike told us they could feel the spirit of the space. That was the intent. But witnessing it actually move people? That was something we never could have fully anticipated, and it was more than we imagined. What I'm Taking Back to the Studio Every exhibition teaches me something new about this art ecosystem and about myself. Here's what I walked away with this time:
This work we do is bigger than the making. It's about showing up, adapting, and trusting the process even when the process is a little messy. Here's to the closets that become galleries. Click below to see what's on my nightstand, and feel free to browseLet's Be SocialInstagram | Facebook | Website | Subscribe/Share Support The Studio LedgerEvery stitch, story, and reflection shared here takes time, care, and love. If you’ve enjoyed today’s issue, here are a few ways to support The Studio Ledger and help this creative practice continue to grow: 💛 Share the Newsletter - Forward this email to a friend, artist, or collector who’d enjoy a window into the studio. Word of mouth helps the most. 🧵 Follow Along - See works-in-progress, new installations, and studio life on Instagram @lisasandersonstudio Your support—whether through a kind word, share, or subscription keeps this creative rhythm alive. Thank you for being part of the circle. |