I feel at home here in this chaos because the chaos suggests images to me
Francis Bacon
Francis Bacon was one of the greatest painters of the 20th century.
Most of his best work was made in a cramped studio at 7 Reece Mews in London, a space he moved into in 1961 and used until his death in 1992.
Though his closest friends tried to stem the tide of clutter occasionally, it would be fair to say that the artist wasn’t big on tidying up. If Marie Kondo has nightmares, I suspect they’d look something like Perry Ogden’s famous 1998 photographs of Bacon’s studio.
As the tiny space is accessed by a steep, narrow staircase, it couldn’t be opened to the public after Bacon died. So the entire mess eventually moved to the Hugh Lane Gallery in Dublin, where it has carefully been rearranged exactly as it was.
A visit is definitely on my travel list: I love seeing creative workspaces.
My study is a mess, too.
I’m not close to Bacon’s level of creative genius, obviously. Nor is my clutter anywhere near as chaotic.
But as I look around now, I see piles of paper on the floor, untidy stacks of notes and non-urgent mail, magazines and books, colour swatches and samples for the bathroom we’re planning to renovate, and some framed art on the floor, waiting to be hung.
There’s a tangle of charging cables that might still be useful. (But probably not, since I don’t seem to be untangling it.) And a big box of cassette recordings of old interviews that I recently retrieved from the attic and plan to digitise, at some point.
This clutter isn’t depressing. It’s exciting.
I’m writing this in the run-up up to August, when I take most of the month off work to read, think, rest and renew. It’s not holiday, exactly. I spend it mainly at home, just not coaching or writing to a deadline.
I’ll go to the beach, lie in my hammock and read. I’m planning to see friends, go on day trips, stay with my mum in Birmingham for a few days. But one of the things I’m looking forward to most is pottering about my workspace, tidying up.
This kind of tidying doesn’t feel like a chore.
It’s slow, dreamy, meditative. There’s no clock running, no need to get finished quickly. Or even at all.
I’ll leaf through magazines and books, stopping to read if the urge takes me. I’ll play music, listen to podcasts, look through my notes and decide what to transfer into my second brain, and what to discard.
But mostly I’ll just putter about, rearranging things, allowing myself to get distracted and disappear down rabbit holes.
Things I found interesting enough to keep in these piles often combine as I sift through them, and turn into something new. A photo I kept, an anecdote in a book, a question I wrote in an old journal combine into a new blog post, an idea for a workshop, a resource for clients.
It’s fun, inspiring. Which is exactly what these piles have accumulated for.
When in doubt, tidy up
This is one of the instructions in the Oblique Strategies cards, made by Brian Eno and Peter Schmidt to help creatives think differently. The artist and writer Austin Kleon has it on his studio wall, as a reminder.
“Note that it says when in doubt,” he says in this lovely blog post on tidying up. “It doesn’t say always. Tidying up is for when I’m stalled out or stuck.. While The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up can work wonders on your sock drawer or your kitchen pantry, I have serious doubts about its usefulness to artists and creative people.
“Some of my favourite artists not only have messy studios, they have intentionally messy studios, because they understand that creativity is about connections, and connections are not made by siloing everything off into its own space. New ideas are formed by interesting juxtapositions, and interesting juxtapositions happen when things are out of place.”
This is the real case for clutter
Back in the pandemic, I interviewed some up-and-coming creatives for the brilliant Hole & Corner magazine. I asked them all what they did when they were stuck.
“There are productive days in the studio,” said Columbian artist Matteo Lopez. “And there are other days when you don’t feel like doing too much.
“But if I walk around the studio just cleaning, something often appears. You’re organising photographs or books and then you find a book that you always loved. You start reading it again, and then you’re hooked into something, just like that.
“Also, I usually keep a few boxes with cutouts and leftovers of paper and cardboard. If I’m doing a prototype, a maquette, I work in cardboard. I keep the remains, and sometimes I sit and play with that recycled material.
“I start doing random collages or drawings, or I try to make something out of it. And it’s very satisfying! I enjoy it. It help me mix my more controlled side and the more loose and playful side of my brain.”
Keep your tools organised
Even if we thrive on clutter, most of us also need some systems, a degree of underlying order.
Lopez keeps his off-cuts in a box, not all over the floor. Choreographer Twyla Tharp keeps a box for each project she begins, throwing her references, inspirations and materials in it as she goes.
Austin Kleon quotes the artist Rachael Que Vargas, who has a useful thought about this.
“My rule is— keep your tools very organised so you can find them. Let the materials cross pollinate in a mess.. But if you can’t lay your hands right on the tool you need, you can blow a day (or your enthusiasm/inspiration) seeking it.”
My study might look chaotic.
But there are systems underlying the clutter and mess, even if they’re hard to see.
All of my financial admin goes into a drawer which is emptied and dealt with, without fail, every two weeks.
I know exactly where to find pens, paper and ink for the printer, the cables and gadgets I use regularly, books I refer to often, the notes I’m using for my next book project, a fresh notebook or journal.
I can put my hand instantly on postage stamps, envelopes, my passport, my digital recorders.
And after decades as a journalist, I can still pack and be on my way to the airport in under an hour. (Checklists help, here. I also keep items like sun cream and travel plugs, mosquito repellent and travel-sized toiletries together, in the same drawer.)
We’re all different. So you do you.
In September, I’ll enjoy my cleared floor and neat bookcases. When I get back to work, I’ll have space to think. But the piles will start to gather again, and I welcome them now instead of beating myself up about them.
Of course, you can make a strong case for minimalism, too. Every so often I’ll do the 30-day minimalist challenge. It’s always shocking how much stuff I’ve acquired since the last one, and how liberating it feels to be rid of it.
Novelist Douglas Coupland does much of his writing in a plain white cube he’s built to be distraction-free.
Artist Anish Kapoor has one bare, white room in his noisy, busy row of studios. He displays some finished work here, but mainly it gives him a space to think. He also meditates daily, which is a great way of finding mental space.
Where on that spectrum do you belong?
Is your workspace a haven of zen-like calm, or does it lean more towards Francis Bacon’s creative chaos? Do you have ways of keeping your equipment in order even if your desk or your studio is messy?
Do let me know, and send me an honest, unstyled photo if you want to; I’d love to share some shots of different workspaces in a future post!
What do you think?