A Quiet Space

For many years, my painting routine involved hauling gear from home to car and back again, twice a week, for studio sessions at the Art Students League of Denver. Like my classmates, I became intimately familiar with the rhythm of packing, unpacking, scraping out precious paint, cleaning brushes, and doing it all again in reverse. While I often cringed at the waste, I’m deeply grateful for those years spent honing my skills, learning from generous instructors, and forming friendships that continue to shape my life.

When we decided to move to Vermont, we were drawn to a plot that included a charming cottage, a rustic barn, and a neglected storage shed tucked into the woods.

One winter morning, while walking the property after a fresh snowfall, I stopped in front of that small, snow-covered shed. Something about its quiet presence stirred an idea: this could be a studio. The thought lingered, though practical concerns took precedence—the cottage needed renovation, and there was plenty to do.

Then the pandemic shifted everything. In the summer of 2021, as lumber prices soared and our renovation plans stalled, our contractor suggested an alternative: renovating the shed instead. Using hemlock milled from his own trees, he transformed it into something unexpectedly beautiful. In just a few weeks, the shed became a tiny art studio.

With no Wi-Fi or cell service, the studio is shaped by quiet and the sounds of nature. It’s a focused, peaceful place to paint.