Back when Archer used to bring us his "If I Drove A Tractor Trailer" book to read several times a day, Noel used to get especially wistful about the description of the little sleeping space behind the truck's cab, complete with its own TV. I understand the impulse to have a nook for yourself.
That's why I've been planning all summer to turn a rather large corner of our bedroom into a craft storage and work space. Three weeks ago I moved the computer to Archer's room and got rid of the big desk that used to occupy that corner. On Monday the furniture was delivered; on Wednesday I built the storage unit; last night I built the table. Cady Gray and I spent Saturday morning packing the unit with yarn; I worked on needles and tools today.
Just as storage, this is going to be an improvement; easier to get to, more spacious, better organized. I was surprised to find that the yarn that had overflowed four big Rubbermaid tubs and several storage crates -- the yarn that runs to several pages in Ravelry's stash in list view -- all fit in the 25-cube Expedit.
I'll have a full and photo-rich chronicle of the tranformation in the next week or two. But right now I'm thinking about that desire for a little cozy space to live and work. People who make things are rather obsessive about their studios, craft rooms, and organizational schemes, as a look around the internet will tell you. Such spaces are partly about facilitation, but partly about inspiration -- an arrangement and decor that we imagine will unlock our ability to create.
My surreptitious aim in reworking this area is to facilitate and inspire my nascent sewing skills. Right now I have to set up and take down my sewing machine on the dining room table if I want to use it, which is quite a production. The desk and table I put in my new craft area is intended to give the machine a home and to provide a space for associated tasks, like cutting and pressing. So will I sew more now that I've set up everything the way I think will be perfect?