Wish-Casting: A Dream Studio

In a recent post, I talked about how there was a time when most of my planning” looked more like wish-casting. It was a way of looking ahead an unknown number of years and saying if I just X every day, I will get Y.” As a method of determining what I needed to do every day, it was terrible. As an imagination technique, it was quite fun, and I stand by it in some respects.

If all I did was wish-cast, and think about how my life would be better if I only had some random product I saw on Instagram, that would be toxic. I need to live in the now, enjoy what I have, and find contentment and happiness in the present moment; you should, too, but I’m not going to pester you too much about it. That said, it can be fun to dream, to imagine something magical that you could build for yourself in time.

One of the things I find myself wish-casting often is a studio space for myself. I am privileged to live in a multi-bedroom, single-family home in the suburbs with my partner and our two dogs, but there are times when I wish I could hang herbs in bunches from the ceiling, or set up a still in dining room, or set up an oil painting just for fun. I mean, I could, but it’d immediately be in everyone’s way, including my own. So, every once in a while, I think what would it be like if I could take over an entire maker studio?* I’ve decided to compile my current thoughts on it because it’s exceedingly fun, and why not?

Ideally, this studio would be a separate outbuilding from the main house, situated in the center of our lush (non-existent at this time) gardens. On one side of the house would be a brick garden workroom/shed assembled from bricks and connected to a lean-to greenhouse. I think the shed would also need to have a staircase down to the root cellar, where we could store our back stock of perfect potatoes and apples from our rich orchards. The greenhouse will have a door into the building proper, entering the butler’s pantry, wherein I’d store preserved herbs, jars of pickles, and the necessaries for the fully stocked kitchen designed to process the veg that comes into it, but also to make cakes and breads and even distill something. Who knows, maybe it’d be fun!

If we go through the mudroom off the kitchen-still room, we’d hit a barn–fully renovated and well-insulated, in which I’d have half of the space earmarked for a pottery studio with its own kiln, and the other marked off for woodworking. I’d share this with my partner of course, it wouldn’t make sense to have two wood shops, I’m not unreasonable.

If you opted instead to wander from kitchen to library, you’d find a tiny writing desk with a view of a cottage garden so lovely, you’d never want to leave, especially not with the fireplace crackling in the evening.

Across the hall, you’d walk into the painting studio, which would get some excellent light and always have a canvas on an easel, waiting for a brush. The brushes, of course, would always be clean and never would be left in the paint.

If you decided to head back toward the butler’s pantry, you’d be able to peek into the sewing studio, with racks of fabric, cool machines in every corner, and a custom dress form that would be half-covered in an intricate outfit-in-progress. It’d have to have some nice light too, so of course it’s on the same wall as the sewing studio.

If you happened to take a wander upstairs, you would find an office designed for development work, with a wide monitor and some awesome speakers for focus music. I’m sure there’d be room to grow, so give or take a couple empty rooms.

This is all, of course, completely over the top… but I can wish-cast, can’t I?

20 July 2022 wish-casting office-organization

Previous post
Rethinking Maker, Manager, Consumer Nearly two years ago, or perhaps a little more than that, David Sparks spoke an idea into my life; people are simultaneously a maker, a manager, and
Next post
We Have Merch! I’ll get to the point; we have merchandise over on TeePublic! If you’d like to support the blog and get a fun t-shirt, sticker, mug, or what have