Elspeth Schulze is an interdisciplinary artist originally from Grand Coteau, Louisiana. Through ceramic, textile and sculptural processes, she explores the complex relationship between material and place.

website: elspethschulze.com

ig: elspethschulze

*Snapshot from my studio last fall, of work in progress and images of recent work*

This week I started my final semester of grad school, remotely. Classes at the University of Colorado Boulder are meeting in person, but I decided to stay in Tulsa, where I’ve been since March. I moved out of my on-campus studio last week with mixed feelings. Relief to be leaving before the onslaught of students and classes; regret at leaving behind the studio that has been such a productive place for the past two years.

*Studio shot from last winter with material tests on the table and work in the windows*

This was the first studio of my own. I’ve worked in a range of spaces over the years- from an extra bedroom that served as a sewing room to a shared ceramic space at a small college. In the spring, we instructors at CU tried to convince undergrad art students that a studio could be a corner of their bedroom. Everyone has their own needs for making work- but having a private space, away from home, has been game changing for me these past two years. My studio on campus was hard to beat- tall ceilings, large windows, and a door that locked.

I realize it wasn’t just a room of my own to think and make in, but a network of facilities that made the past two years possible. I spent more time glueing panels in the woodshop, pouring forms in the plaster room and sanding on the loading dock than I did making solely in my studio. When I packed up last week, it felt like losing a larger network of spaces geared towards creative production. Grad school has been such an important period for my work- a time of intense focus within amazing facilities.

*Considering the truck full of my studio supplies and work this week before unloading in Tulsa.*

When I was younger, my sisters and I dreamed up fantasy houses, with rooms full of water or wall-to-wall mattresses. Now, my partner Shane and I talk about a dream studio. We imagine a warehouse with tall ceilings and natural light. There’d be spaces for messy processes and spaces for clean ones- endless rooms that could encompass all the ways we make. Throw in a gallery space, a kitchen and a pizza oven outside. We’ve been rolling stones for the past 10 years, and this vision is the best version of stability we can imagine. We’ve been lucky lately to have studios provided through grad programs and residencies, and we’ll keep pursuing these while we can. But the glimmer of that dream studio is like a mirage that keeps me moving forward. I hope you can come visit someday :)