Setting up a workshop

With September and the start of autumn and school term, I went through the tidying up frenzy that seizes me every two or three years.

It happens because I live in a small flat and I can’t keep many things. This is to date the most irritating thing about living on my own. I inherited from my father that impossible logic of ‘Oh, I’ll keep it, it might be useful one day’. That’s how you end up with a literal hill of rubbish destined to the dumpster the next time you move (feel the experience?).

Generally — and this time was no exception —, come the frenzy, I toss around all my clothes (from my closet, that is) and put away everything I don’t wear anymore, to be given to charity; I go through all my furniture (‘Do I really need you? Are you conveniently placed? Eh, you can sod off.’) and its contents; I attack every corner with the vacuum, clean, scrape, until I end up with much more space, both in reality and in my mind.

This fascinating anecdote leads me to something more relevant to this blog. I finally took the time to think and reorganise my beading set up. I’ve always wanted some sort of workshop. I threw away half the stuff in my bedroom that had no other use than sit there collecting dust, and bought a table. After a lovely time cursing Ikea designers over three generations, I was ready to free my living room table from its burden.

workshop in progress

I have yet to put this new workshop to the test. I might make a few changes with use and probably to take into account my resolute laziness.


Isn’t it nice ? I think it’s nice. Yet again, I don’t have much light. That’s living on the ground floor for you. But I’m closer to the window so hopefully it won’t be so terrible.

For the curious, you can glimpse some of the drawings and pictures I like to hang around me. Facing my desk are three frames: a digital painting by Cali Rezo, a page from Moi je by Aude Picault and a drawing I made long ago. On the right wall: Corto Maltese by Hugo Pratt, Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson, Blacksad by Guarnido and Diaz Canales, a feather I painted, the Visiteur du futur, Rorschach from Watchmen, an old family picture, and a portrait of my great-great-grandfather. Someday, if someone asks, I might tell the story behind that one.

The computer on the opposite side is — or used to be — my video editing station. I seldom use it now, but I still have some ideas in mind that will require I get back into it.

Now that I have a decent-looking working space, I think I’ll make more step by step accounts of my creations. But first, I’ll buy a comfortable office chair with wheels. Resolute laziness, I said.

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