Why would anyone want to look at my studio? I asked myself, especially as photography is not one of my strengths. But let me show you around anyway. My studio is one of about 40 in a former boot factory in inner city Melbourne which dates back to the Victorian era. Excuse the dust, which seems to fall like rain from the exposed ceiling.
A tapestry from Sweden, an Eames House of Cards, a Victorian cut-out, Ladybird books and the all-important snack. (Not always that healthy.)
The Ill Conceived Mobile, which needs to be restrung as the cutely packaged thread that I bought from the Indian shop can't handle the weight of small plywood objects. The clay man waits like a blank canvas for an idea. These both sit patiently on my new lightbox table, which some silly person was throwing away just as I was walking past their studio!