But it's in and it's on.
Upwards of 600 feet of wire run through the walls of the little building. Placing the outlets was easy. Sorting out the lighting, on the other hand, was a chore. After going a bit more bald, I settled on recessed lights in the garage area, track lights under the 'beams', and lights on top of the 'beams'.
As we hooked up the lights, it seemed like an overwhelming number of fixtures for the space. Just as the number of outlets in the studio dwarfs the number in our house, there are far more lights. But then we turned them on. Perfection. I've got enough control with three dimmers controlling four tracks with ten lights total that I can make the space what I need.
With four different bulbs to try, I ran inside, grabbed an easel and a painting to see how they looked. When the switch was flipped, I nearly wept.
Lighting is the bane of the painter's existence. It's never simple. We resort to clip lights hung from nails and screws, lamps strapped to easels, moving the easels and paintings around to find that perfect spot with enough light, the right light, and not too much. None of it quite works as well as hoped. When I saw that painting glowing under those lights, I knew I'd done it right. Educated guessing can be a good thing.
I don't know if you can understand what this means for me, to see this light in this space.
Tomorrow, insulation arrives. Monday, a friend with skills and drywall arrives. Within the week, with the interior finished, I'll be moving in.Â
