New studio, new chapter

I finally did it. I got a studio.

Not a big deal for most people, maybe. But for me, it’s been a long time coming, having a proper place to work that isn’t also where I eat, sleep, and decompress. Separating those two worlds has been one of the best decisions I’ve made in a while. When you work from home, everything bleeds into everything else. You’re never fully at work, and you’re never fully off. The studio fixes that. You walk in, and you’re on. You walk out, and you’re done.

And that walk, that commute, turns out to be the hidden gift I didn’t expect.

I used to think of commuting as dead time. Now I see it differently. It’s the buffer zone. The transition. That stretch of city streets where your brain gets to breathe between modes. You notice things. A building you’ve walked past a hundred times. The light at a specific corner in the morning. People. It sounds small, but it adds up to something, a kind of mental clarity that you don’t get when your office is ten steps from your bed.

Because here’s the thing, an artist’s mind never fully switches off. There’s always a background process running, a quiet pilot mode that activates in the everyday. On the commute. In the grocery store. Mid-conversation. And that’s usually exactly when the best ideas show up. Not at the desk, not when you’re trying. In the in-between moments, when you’re not looking.

Setting up the new studio. Started with the things that weren’t strictly necessary.

There’s a version of this story where getting a studio feels indulgent, like a luxury you have to justify. But I’ve come to think that creating the right conditions for your work is part of the work itself. The space you’re in shapes what you make. The rituals around it, the commute, the walk, the lamp you hung first because the space deserved it, they’re not distractions. They’re the scaffolding.

The studio is in Barcelona, centre, but upper centre. Still rooted to the mountains, right at the edge of the Collserola hills, a few minutes from Parc Güell. I walk there sometimes, between things. Sit for a bit, look at the sea. There’s something grounding about having that nearby, nature on one side, the city sprawling below on the other. It keeps things in perspective.

New space. New rhythms. New chapter.

First commissions in the new space. It’s a good feeling.

The city and the sea. Every time.

Every corner deserved some care.

My commute starts here.