I stumbled upon an interesting article, What is YOUR Artist’s Studio? on Improvised Life.
And it got me thinking. I realized that as I wander, travel, meet and interact with people, that I’ve been practicing looking in a way that makes the whole wide world my studio.
Yesterday we had our first icy morning, and slippery roads made travel treacherous. As temperatures rose and the thaw began, we headed out for breakfast at the Courthouse Cafe. We stopped for gas after the breakfast and before the library, and the bright red snow plow caught my eye.
One picture of one truck, check.
Take a few steps back and try to get both trucks with snow plows, check.
Then I notice there are two guys sitting in the front seat of one of the trucks, undoubtedly sipping hot coffee and refueling with breakfast sandwiches, waving at me . . . shaking their heads and laughing. I'm sure they wondered what in the world I found so dang fascinating about them and their truck with the snow plow attached.
About this time, another fellow shouted a hearty hello and encouraged me to take a picture of his truck, too. Beaming with pride, Eugene explained that he'd been out since dawn, pulling cars that had slid off the road, out of ditches. Helping people.
The parking lot of the local convenience store was my studio for today – a place of saving grace for both me and my subjects.
I am your own way of looking at things. . . When you allow me to live with you, every glance around you will be a sort of salvation. –William Stafford, When I Met My Muse