My workshop

~Chronicles of Madrid~

I created a workshop in my parent’s garage. I took loads of fancy old clothes from my grandmother’s house. Setting up one large plastic table designated for fabric cutting, measurements, and creating. Another smaller, rectangular table to the right of it stationed to hold my sewing machine. I dedicated my early mornings to sifting through the mountain of fabric and stacks of boxes with beads and laces placed diligently throughout the garage and labeled accordingly. Yet that time of day would strike as it always did around 10 -11 a.m. where the sun would be at its brightest and most unyielding position based off of the location of the garage. Pushing my things farther towards the back of the garage proved unhelpful as the light diminished and I was left to sew amidst the darkness in the middle of the day next to my father’s woodworking and carpentry tools.

Despite having a day job during the week from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. and sewing classes right after, I still managed to wake up at 6 a.m. on Saturdays and Sundays unless the waves were too good to pass up for some good sunrise surf or the delightful surprise of gracing the nightclub gods the night before. I managed to spend mornings in my sweatshop to create. Now what I ended up spending most of my early morning hours doing was actually just organising. I cost my day hours upon hours of thinking, strategising, and eventually just organising my fabrics and beads, to then leave the area in an artist’s scramble because as soon as the golden idea sprung upon me the sun was out again blaring down into my soul challenging my dedication.

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Now this set up of mine was the closest I’ve been to having my own studio, my own work space, where I could spread out and design to breed the future’s idea about how to adorn one’s body. I didn’t care that there were time slots restricting my ability to spend whole days down there based off of the sun’s rules and regulations; I was just grateful for that space.

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I have learned that when one cannot spend the time they have on the things they love then the proper amount of attention will never be put in. Because I was not frequenting my beloved sweatshop/studio I was creating, leaving, and having to pick up where I left off with days in between. Although this space was so important and valuable for my artistic and professional development, I was not able to put the amount of time that I needed and summer just passed me by. I was successful in other locations and created my first pair of shorts–that was however completed in my once/week sewing class held in a vacuum store.

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I was determined nonetheless and saw to it that in the near future I would be setting up shop elsewhere and in a hopefully better location. In my quest for a new space and voyage to a new address, I packed my sewing machine in my suitcase and flew to Spain.

Thank you Moma for letting me set up shop and allowing my things to continue to have a home while I am away with an undetermined flight back. Thank you Pops for letting me take your work space where you also create and design things that people can use to better their day to day life.

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