Out of the Studio, Into the Bubble Wrap

The myth suggests the artist’s work ends when the final mark is made on the panel, that the rest of the day is spent staring into the middle distance waiting for the next spark.

In truth, it is somewhere between that romanticised vision and a more prosaic reality. Selling work is the goal, but the immediate consequence is logistics. A four-piece haul doesn’t just magically appear on a collector’s wall. It has to be armoured first.

Sunday was spent in a sea of bubble wrap, foam corner protectors, and heavy-duty packing tape. When you paint on wood, the work has weight. Edges need protecting. You become a part-time shipping clerk, measuring boxes, double-wrapping panels, and praying the transit tape holds against the reality of courier delivery.

Then comes the mileage. A three-hour round trip just to drop off another piece for an exhibition. Ninety minutes there, ninety minutes back. It’s the essential machinery of showing up, entirely separate from the act of creation.

We talk a lot about the creative process, but not enough about the physical labour it takes to move an object from a studio floor into the world. It’s friction—but it’s the friction that makes the rest of it real, and I would not have it any other way!