Left: Creative corner number one, the basement splash zone where paint can fall freely. Right: Creative corner number two, upstairs art cubby to corral supplies between kitchen counter projects.

To begin with, my mother is and always has been an artist. That fact didn't guarantee that I would grow into one as well, but I did. Slowly. As tends to be the case with human beings, I'm largely a product of my environment. In pondering this idea the other day, I realized just how intrinsically creativity had been woven into my surroundings as a kid. And it wasn't via spending time in my mother's sprawling art studio. She didn't have one. I mean, she had a large classroom where she taught countless students to engage with their creativity (and where I would check her file cabinet for after school snacks), but she didn't do her own work there. She usually did that in the comfort of her own home.

Our family home, as she so lovingly puts it, is a "country mouse house." It’s small, and back then with four children and a husband and several animals about the place, space was tight. But, there was always space for creativity. Her favorite spots were (and probably still are) the corner of the dining room table right by the china cupboard or in her bedroom cozied up with some drawing pencils and paper. Works in progress, paints, pencils, instructional books, and cleaned up food containers destined to live another life as paint palettes or paper Mache sculptures filled closets and shelves and nooks and crannies. Was it organized? No. Was it cluttered? Yes. Was our country mouse house secretly an art studio in disguise? Absolutely.

At least, that's how I see it now as an adult. I also see that my mother, unwittingly, removed a mental barrier between me and my own creativity by making whatever space she occupied into her studio. It's a stark contrast to what I so often see when I look at magazines, books, and Pinterest boards showcasing beautiful creative spaces that are works of art unto themselves. Paging or scrolling through these showcases will likely reveal images of reclaimed wooden furniture washed in the patina of time, pastel silk ribbons delicately hung from the ceiling, meticulously organized rolls of fabric, neatly ordered spectrums of paint colors, brush bins and easels at the ready. And, of course, it's perfectly aglow in golden hour light.

Don't get me wrong, these showcased spaces are amazing. At best, images like these are inspirational and aspirational. But at worst, they're unspoken barriers to entry, as though you need to have a space like those glossy images to be a legitimate artist. Obviously, that's not true. Even more obvious, those spaces are not the reality for the majority of creatives. For most of my life, I too, have worked at dining room tables, kitchen counters, in my cozy bed, or down in the corner of a cold basement. The type of space is far less important than the act of claiming it. However small or unglamorous the space, once claimed, it's yours and you're going to create marvelous things inside of it.

Along with my mother, my own experience has taught me that the most important factor in making creative space is to just start creating wherever you can. And, as you do, note the elements that help you create best. Do you need your space to be quiet? Have soft music? Do you need to have a visually clear work surface to focus on what you're doing? Or, do you like to have your materials in sight for inspiration? Do you like to create in different locations? Would something portable suit your needs? Do you need a space separate from your home to eliminate distractions or does the presence of others energize you? Noticing what works for you can help you cultivate the most optimal space with what you have and where you are right now.

As luck would have it, my husband and I have come into possession of a backyard shed that we are going to convert into an art studio. Will it have patinaed furniture, silken streamers, and perpetual golden hour light? No. Probably not. Personally, I need my studio space to be one that begs to be mercilessly splattered in paint and filled with music, any kind of sunlight, and wild imagination. In the meantime, I’ll either be in an oversized sweatshirt splashing watercolor all over the basement or perched at the kitchen counter recording another art tutorial, sunlight beaming through the window, music playing in the background. A studio will be awesome, but I can still do great work in the spaces I have now, because I’ve set them up to support my creative needs.

What about you? What are your personal essentials for making a creative space and how are you doing that with where you are now? Leave a comment below. Inquiring and creative minds want to know!

Making space: claiming your creative corner