Dining Tables, Dreams and Desires.

Let’s get right to it. Art doesn’t wait for your life to be neat or organized. It doesn’t sit around until you have the perfect studio. It survives in the clutter of your home and steals your dining table at two in the morning. This photo is a relic from those days when I was painting like a rebel with no plan except to create.

This was the battleground where I first figured out who I was as an artist. No fancy setups. No sun drenched studio. Just a wobbly table piled with whatever cheap materials I could afford. My paint schedule was synced to the night. My only rule was to keep going.

Every night felt like a covert mission. Painting fast. Painting hard. Racing the sunrise. I used to wipe away every trace of my process before the world woke up, like a ghost who only existed in the hours before dawn. It was gritty and messy and strangely addictive. And yeah, I can already hear the imaginary side eye from artists working in spotless studios. But this photo right here is where it all started. This is where determination met a blank surface. Where the smell of turpentine mixed with someone making breakfast in the next room. This is where I learned that art is a fight, and I was swinging without gloves.

Today I have a real studio. Clean corners. Quiet. Space to breathe. But this photograph will always be my reminder from the trenches telling anyone out there with a cramped workspace and a relentless dream that you’re the real deal.

This isn’t me getting sentimental. It’s a message to the newcomers. Your crooked desk or your tiny kitchen table is not a limitation. It’s a proving ground. Art doesn’t need your perfect conditions. It needs your energy. Your persistence. Your willingness to create even when the space feels all wrong. So claim whatever corner of the world you have. Let the paint spill. Let the vision take over. Because these are the places where real art is born and felt. And one day, when you finally step into a polished studio, you’ll look back at these early days with the pride of someone who fought their way into their own story and has the paint stained proof to show for it.