The Sectet Space

As I got up the last stair–or ladder rung, more like, these stairs are so step–I was surprised to see another girl sitting in my space. I shouldn’t have been; I know that everyone else knows about the attic space. Lots of people go up there, but it’s one of those places that when you are there feels secret, like you are the only person who has discovered this hiding place. I felt annoyed, because I was going there to be alone. She was infringing upon my privacy. Then I realized that I was infringing on her privacy, but it would have been too awkward to leave. I had my sketchbook and pencil case in my hands, giving away my intentions. Do you mind if I stay up here? I asked. No, I’m just working on my homework. I knew she minded, but I stayed anyway. It was hot up there, and I started feeling drowsy. I could see people walking around the studio, working or talking or whatever they were doing, and I was glad to have escaped the noise. I settled into the chaise that was up there for no apparent reason, probably used for figure drawing models decades ago. I knew my professor had no reason to venture up here, though I couldn’t help feeling slightly uneasy that I was going to be caught. It was a work day, but I was still supposed to be in class actually working. I tried to decompress, get rid of my feeling of overwhelmed-ness. I closed my eyes and tried to forget I wasn’t alone, trying to brainstorm what I was going to talk about during my next class. I had to have a plan of what my next project was going to be, but I felt directionless. My classes have lost most of their structure and are open to whatever I want to do. This sounds great and liberating and free, to make whatever you want. But what if you don’t have a plan? That freedom becomes a bit overwhelming. It is directionless, and there is only so long you can spend in the studio attic.