Design it for function. Protect it like your energy depends on it — because it does.
There’s this idea that a studio should be some kind of peaceful, inspiring space — like a visual mood board with incense and plants and curated clutter. But I think it’s simpler than that. Your studio should make you want to create. That’s it. Everything else — the setup, the objects, even what’s on the walls — should support that one goal.
1. Keep your admin work the hell out of your creative space.
A big thing I do is hide all my admin work. Fully separate. I need my creative space to be solely for creating — not a hybrid room where I switch gears mid-thought because an invoice caught my eye. My admin happens in another room. That separation is intentional.
I know not everyone has the luxury of a multi-room setup, but even if your studio has to double as your office, you should keep the admin stuff enclosed — in drawers, cabinets, closed boxes. The reason is simple: when you walk in with that creative fire, thinking, “I’m going to paint for a few hours,” and you see a stack of papers or something you need to sign, that flow gets interrupted. You think you’ll just knock out that task real quick, but it derails your entire night. What should’ve been a few hours of making turns into none.
2. Don’t decorate with clutter. Especially not the kind with baggage.
Here’s something I’ve done — and regretted. I bought a bunch of wood carvings at auction. Sold nearly all of them. All except one: this big tribal warrior mask. I didn’t like it. It didn’t inspire me. But I hung it in my studio anyway.
Why? Because I didn’t sell it. That’s it. It was the leftover. I wasn’t willing to give it away because it felt like admitting failure. I’d bought it to resell, and it didn’t sell, so putting it in the studio was a lazy compromise. And every time I saw it, it reminded me of that — that it didn’t sell. That I didn’t want to deal with it. That it was just taking up space.
If you’re putting something in your workspace just because you “have the room,” stop. That’s the worst reason to put something in there. If it’s a distraction, if it carries a weird emotional weight, or it’s only there because it came free or was convenient — it doesn’t belong. You’re not decorating a living room. You’re setting up a functional workspace. Be intentional.
3. Good luck charms can be real — even if you don’t believe in that sort of thing.
Despite not believing in voodoo or witchcraft, I’ve got what you’d probably call good luck charms around my studio. They’re not actual charms. They’re mementos. Little things people have given me — small gifts given out of kindness, not obligation. None of them are valuable. But when I look at them, they make me happy. They remind me that people support me.
It’s not about superstition. It’s about energy. These things hold meaning, even if they’re objectively insignificant.
4. Your studio should be ready to receive you — especially on the hard days.
There are times when life feels overwhelming. I’m late on projects, I’ve got people chasing me down, and it’s just too much in my head all at once. That’s when I say, “Fuck it.” Not in a defeated way — not like a mental health day — but more like, “Screw all that noise, I’m taking today for me.”
I go to my studio. I make something. Not because it’s productive. Not because I have a plan. But because I want to remember what it feels like to enjoy what I do. To make something because I feel like it.
And the reason that works is because I’ve set up the space to support that. There’s nothing in my line of sight that demands something from me. No distractions. No reminders of admin work. No wall décor that quietly nags at me about a past sale that didn’t happen. Just a clean space, ready to receive me when I need it most.
5. Put quotes on the wall — in your own handwriting.
One small thing I do that makes a big difference is write quotes on the wall. Not framed. Not pretty. Just a big Sharpie marker and clean handwriting. A short phrase or sentence that hits. Something that reminds me what I’m doing this for — or how to keep going when I don’t feel like it.
It doesn’t need to be a masterpiece. It just needs to say what you need to hear. Don’t overthink it. This isn’t about inspiration — it’s about reinforcement.