Everyone at some point needs a place to come home to. For me as an artist it’s a space I can feel comfortable to create, a base to work, observe and reflect on ideas. My place is the studio. When I realised how valuable this space was for me, I decided to share this experience with others. In the heart of Tremithousa, every week people from all over the world come and share their creative ideas while making art.
Currently at the studio we offer the following services:
- We operate an open workshop every morning Mon-Fri 9-1 pm, where people can work with the help of our support on new or existing art projects.
- Afternoons are allocated to children’s art classes, adult sketching groups and individual tuition
- Throughout the year we run pop-up workshops on various topics such as silver jewellery making, textile dyeing, mosaics and painting.
- To support people with their mosaic projects we have a mosaic tile supply shop on site
” At the Studio” poem by Rachael Pettus
Love pads on cat paws
under the arbour,
runs shrieking in flip-flops
around the scarred trestle tables,
bursts in rainbows on the walls.
Under this arbour,
between these walls,
transformation is a daily miracle.
Blessed be she of light hands
whose strong heart
keeps the winter fire burning,
offers respite through summer.
We can be ourselves
on the cracked concrete floor.
Free to mourn or celebrate —
to discover, unfettered,
that joy or torment might spread in great daubs
or shine in tightly modeled miniature.
Art, like love,
begins deep within the self and,
nurtured — spread with roots and tendrils
by the pulsing of the heart
and the regular in-and-out of breath — unfolds,
extending beyond our bubble-bodies to those who share the journey.
Creation makes no mistakes:
the shading of charcoal and the twisting of yarn,
the tearing of paper, the mixing of plaster and dye,
the snicker-snack of tile cutters and
the hum of laughter punctuated by
screams of delight or temper —
all threads in a tapestry
woven by each visitor to the whitewashed stone house opposite the church.
Leaving, each celebrant trails a gossamer
as a spider trails silk.
And weaves compassion into all transactions.