A Cozy Studio Pause (And a Shakespearean Badger?)

The round of holiday shows and sales has wrapped, and for the briefest moment, I find myself in a small pocket of calm before the final two shows of the year. It’s the kind of pause that feels like the universe saying, take a breath, and so I have—snuggled into the familiar quiet of my studio.

Picture this: a soft blanket wrapped around me, a pot of tea beside me that smells deliciously of fig and vanilla, and a small fortress of books forming a cozy wall around my chair. Outside, the world is in full December mode—twinkle lights, brisk wind, our first wintry mix coming down and the scent of woodsmoke drifting from neighbors’ chimneys. Inside, all is warm and still, except for the scratching of my pencil.

And for reasons I can’t entirely explain, my mind has drifted to Shakespeare.

Perhaps it’s the cold weather. Perhaps it’s the stack of old plays left out from a past project. Or perhaps it’s simply the season inviting a bit of introspection and drama. Whatever the reason, when my thoughts go wandering, my pencil tends to follow. And so this week’s studio companion has become a rather earnest-looking badger in a ruffled Elizabethan collar, contemplating the existential weight of his moment.

To badger, or not to badger?

That is apparently the question.

He’s equal parts solemn and endearing, and I’m not convinced he has any idea what he’s actually pondering. But he seems very sure it must be important.

These little studio pauses—between the joyful frenzy of shows—are where the most unexpected ideas emerge. Sometimes they turn into full collections. Sometimes they join the “library” of ideas waiting patiently for their season. And sometimes, like this very dramatic woodland actor, they simply keep me company on a quiet afternoon.

Wherever the next few weeks take us—from cozy corners to bustling markets—I’m grateful you’re here for all the chapters.