CAPTURING CREATIVE SPACES
Tristan Sharman
There are few things in this world that will get me more starry-eyed than a creative studio. Perhaps one of the most well-renowned is the studio of Casey Neistat, a filmmaker based in New York City. If you’re unfamiliar with it, then I implore you to look it up. His studio is an incredible blend of practical and inspirational, hosting legions of camera gear, plus archives of hard drives, photos, hardware tools, and electric skateboards. I am incredibly envious of it. This year, another filmmaker by the name of Jordan Studdard shared the story of his studio built just upstairs of Casey’s. It features a ring of books, a homemade plane chassis video editing bay, and a light-up switchboard map of iconic movie locations across New York.
It’s beautiful, and proof to me that there must be something magic in the air of that building. Nevertheless, my stumbling across Studdard’s studio showcase online has come at a timely point in my own life. I have been packing up and moving out of the home, and indeed local area, that I grew up in. In doing so I’ve been reflecting on the creative spaces that I carved for myself, and also beginning to plan those that lie ahead of me. I am a strong believer that the spaces and environments we occupy can have a great impact on the work that we do. I believe a great space for creative work is one that is an immersive one - one that allows you to focus on your craft, inspire your craft, and keeps your tools close at hand. Depending on your craft and circumstances, this might be big or small.
For photographers in years gone by, this might be the darkroom, turning rolls of film into prints, and more recently a studio of tripods, lights and canvas backgrounds. It can be humbler though - perhaps a shelf to host camera lenses, chargers and some photo albums. For some, having a secondary location might be enough, like a favourite coffee shop to sit-in with a laptop, sipping a hot drink whilst going through photos. In my case, I need somewhere to research and write scripts, present pieces to camera with a ‘studio background’, and edit the videos, all for a self-produced educational YouTube show called Science Affairs that I launched earlier this year. A desk, therefore, is essential, but past that, I’ve turned to shelves of books that inspire me, provide references, and look good too!
Where I put all of these is important too - I need space for studio lights, camera, and as much depth as I can create in order to create a nice bokeh effect, where I’m in focus and the shelves blur slightly into the background. Prior to my recent move, I had commandeered a spare bedroom for this, so everything could stay set up, out the way. Since my move however, I’ve downsized - forget having a dedicated space for a video studio - I’m living and working in something closer to a studio apartment. Still, I’m in the process of carving out and perfecting a creative nook. Inevitably it will have its quirks - whilst wrestling with studio lights I’ve learned that, of course, they deliver the best results for camera when they’re placed totally in the way of the dinner table.
Certainly the phrase ‘eat, sleep, work, repeat’ is much less snappy when you add ‘move the light stands’ between every step. Despite the friction added from putting up and down lights, there’s fun to be found in the challenge of it all. This month, the results have begun to emerge on the channel, which has been incredibly rewarding (albeit I’m competing to do creative work on the side of full-time academics… but that’s an editorial for another time). As the new space does make its way to published works, I can’t help but think that there’s something extra special about that in itself. The space that I’m producing creative work in is being showcased in that same work.
As a result, each studio setup will be a time capsule of sorts, allowing me to look back at the different places I was through different eras of projects. Plus, who knows, maybe others will look at my studios - with their upside-down posters keeping text out of shot and trinkets scattered across the edges of the shelves - and be inspired too, just as I have been.
This article first appeared in PRISMA, Issue 20.