A Year to Remember: Serendipity, Studios, Sweethearts & Social Media

Andrew and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary the other week.

And what a year it’s been! To celebrate our milestone we went back to the restaurant where Andrew took me for our first ‘proper’ date, and where he proposed two months later.

It reminded me how on the night of our engagement, after I said ‘yes’ the entire restaurant had applauded. The chef was so kind, he made us a plate with small deserts and ‘Congratulations’ written in chocolate. On their way out an elderly couple stopped and touched us on the shoulder saying they’d been married for over 50 years.

“You’re just on your learners”, they said, with a twinkle.

We smiled at each other, imagining what it would be like to be married that long.  Then, trailing after them, a young couple passed our table.

“Enjoy this bit,” she smiled. “It’s the best part.”

Her husband followed silently, with a grim, forced smile.

It’s been a big year for our first year of marriage.

And I’m happy to say the engagement wasn’t the best part. Magical as it was, we’ve grown, travelled and had fun being ‘on our learners’ through all kinds of situations.

“I love being married to you,” we often say.

Which is still kind of a surprise, seeing as neither of us were looking to get married when we met. But something deep inside us knew you don’t meet someone this compatible and special and throw it away. So we chose to cherish it and went about it in a kind of old fashioned way. We got married within three months. Which is also funny, since neither of us are what you’d call ‘conventional.’

The year began with us travelling out west to Cunnamulla, Roma, Yuleba, Wandoan, Taroome, Injune and other small country towns while Andrew worked as a Quarry Project Manager. There were lots of adventures with Lacey Jane travelling in the back of the Hilux and us trying to transport pots of herbs and greens to supplement the enormous pub meals we ate almost nightly and huge cooked breakfasts available each morning.

I managed to put on a whopping 12 kilos, which for me, had previously been unheard of. It took me months to realise why I felt uncomfortable. I stopped growing well over a decade and a half ago and hadn’t changed my clothing size since I was a teenager. There I was, in 40 degree heat, sitting in undies two sizes too small and wondering why I felt a bit on edge.

That situation taken care of (with a trip to the shops and a new wardrobe assembled) we flung ourselves head-first into the project of building an art studio on our 1.5 acre property back home. I’d long been envisioning an art studio in front of the cottage, and with Andrew’s encouragement, support and knowledge, it was soon no longer a dream but a fast arriving reality.

In fact, after five months of us driving hundreds of kilometers in and out west with Andrew’s roster of 14 days on and 7 days off, and him not enjoying his work very much, we decided to ditch the transient life. My business had been growing every year and I was looking for more support. Plus Andrew was ready for a change. We moved back home ‘permanently’ (we always seem to be taking off for trips in the van, as neither of us like being in one place for too long). We also knew Andrew’s skills would be very useful when it came to building the studio.

So we watched almost every episode of the BBC’s ‘Grand Designs’ over the course of six months and hoped our project wouldn’t go so far over budget as many of the houses on the show did. We also consoled and re-inspired ourselves watching other couples building their dream homes and seeing just how long, tedious and sometimes drawn-out a process it can seem.

With more and more stuff accumulating under the house, since we had to buy more tools and gadgets to do the plastering, painting and flooring ourselves (when we were already bursting at the seams with two people’s lives being condensed into one person’s cottage), at times it felt like a bit of a challenge. When it became too difficult to open the door to the spare room because so much of my studio and other bits and bobs had been stashed away, I remembered that for the couples on Grand Designs, it always seemed to be worth it in the end.

Actually, the clear inspiration I got for making the studio came just over eighteen months ago. I saw how ridiculous it was as an artist not to have somewhere to work. A place to express my skills and truly follow my passions. It was like thoughts I was so used to such as “Oh, I don’t need (or deserve?) that kind of extravagance, I can make do with a 3x3m spare room” were turned on their head. In a split second I realised I had a skill and passion that not only touched other people’s lives, it also enriched my own beyond words, and to stifle it was actually absurd. My scarcity thinking wasn’t serving me or making me a ‘better’ person. So I set about investigating what kind of building to build and how to make it happen.

When Andrew and I met, I told him I was going to build a studio. I’d picked out the structure and everything. It was going to be one of those transportable, modular homes, because the idea of hiring a builder to design a new build on site was just too far outside my comfort zone and self-belief.

However, Andrew had renovated his first home, a cute old 1860’s cottage in Tasmania well before we met, and he had more skills to draw from than I could have committed to on my own. So we began shopping around for builders. It was more difficult than it sounded; builders didn’t call us back, they estimated the build costs would be double our budget, they were already too busy, or the project didn’t fit with their scope or style. Then we found a company who focused on building sheds, but had also built homes, studios and men’s get-a-ways for the last twenty or so years. From there, the design process kicked into high gear.

We drew up plenty of different layouts (Andrew taught himself how to use a free CAD program online while I drew wonky boxes in a hurried free-hand) and took them in for pricing up. Decisions such as whether to build raised off the ground or on a slab became apparent as we had the costings done, and each decision brought us closer to getting something actually made, instead of just sitting in my head.

Once we signed off on the final structure, the builder said it was going to be another three months until the frame and cladding would be ready, so we thought it was the perfect opportunity to take a van trip south to visit Andrew’s family in Tassie and my family in Melbourne, as well as some friends along the way.

At times it was hard to believe it was less than a year ago I’d been travelling in my old van with my beloved dog Jordie, and here I was, married, with a new van and a new puppy travelling yet again through the old haunts I’d been to with Jords; Bowral, Sydney, Melbourne, Canberra, Hobart, Launceston, Davenport, Gundagai. There were new places I’d never been with Jordie to too; The Blue Tiers, Bay of Fires, Evendale, Glenrowan. It was bitter, but also oh so very, very sweet.

We enjoyed time with our families. My uncle said “She’s put on weight Andrew. I like you.” For the first time my sensitive digestive system had actually settled down being in a relationship instead of going hay-wire. A very, very good sign.

Arriving home, we found the concrete pad was soon scheduled to be poured. Andrew had levelled the block (he’s also an excavator operator… very handy, Andy!) and built the steps and retaining wall before we left. The lillypillies we’d planted had grown, except two where the irrigation had busted and they were left high and dry for a few weeks. They dropped all their leaves but have since come back with a vengeance.

The pad was poured in two days, and a week or so after the builders arrived to erect the frame. It went up almost magically. Like, so fast you couldn’t sleep in or else you’d miss a quarter of the action (which I did).

I remember the first moment I stepped inside, before the cladding was put on. The builders were asking how we’d like the door installed and everyone was looking down at this door frame and how it sat against the edge of the corrugated iron, and I stepped inside looking down at the concrete slab myself. Then, with the men busy chatting amongst themselves, I looked up.

“Oh my God, I’m inside my studio!” the voice in my head shouted. “Look how big it is! It’s massive!”

All the while the builders were calmly discussing the door frame, completely oblivious to the monumental moment I was privately having. I would have sat down right there on the concrete and stayed for hours, soaking it all in if I hadn’t been slap-bang in the middle of a work site and a down-right hazard. So instead I went inside and made a cup of tea and did a happy dance with Lacey and Andrew.

All that fast action gave us a slightly distorted view of how long it would take to finish. Well, for me it did anyway. We’d decided to do most of the finishing off ourselves, except the electrical work of course, so that meant it was time for me to learn how to plaster.

Plastering was hard, hard work but I’ve always loved doing things with my hands and learning new practical skills. Andrew was a great teacher so between to two of us, an elevated working platform, some tunes on Spotify, and Lacey-Jane chewing her toys below, we chipped away at 420m2 of gyprock over the course of five weeks. Andrew did the majority of it, but I did help with the ceiling, which was a challenge since the studio has a 5m high gabled roof. I learnt all about how to cut the cornice so it sits at the right angle to cover the join between the wall and the ceiling beautifully and am proud because now I know how a building goes together, largely. It’s actually not as complex as I thought. Plastering, as it turns out, has a huge part to play in making a structure feel complete.

Anyway, as if that wasn’t enough on our plate, I saw a conference on in America I felt drawn too and which was only two weeks away. True to form, Andrew went with my impulsiveness (he’s equally spontaneous, which is helpful) and we booked tickets.

But, the conference wasn’t what I’d hoped or expected. In fact, it left us both feeling very angry (furious, you could even say) at what we felt was a gross deception by the organisers. The host of the event hadn’t been mentioned as the host on the ticket sales page, and it wasn’t until we were half way around the world, that we realised he made our skin crawl. Like, there-is-something-terribly-wrong-with-this-situation, I-want-to-get-out-of-here, what-the-heck-is-going-on, why-do-all-these-people-want-to-sing-his-praises, crawl. After one simple Google search of his name, we found he had a long history of accusations and quite a disturbing list of articles outlining controversy following him around the world as he’d reinvented himself time and again. We requested a full refund. And walked out after less than 24 hours.

Which left us in Boulder, Colorado, with non-refundable air-line tickets and me with the first flu I’ve had in years, surrounded by Halloween celebrations breaking out in the main street and university student filled suburbs. To say it was all a bit surreal would be an understatement. We missed Lacey. (Who, by the way, wasn’t missing us at all… she was having a ball on my friend Dee Humphrey’s 10 acre property; hooning around, ears flapping, on the ride-on lawn mower and making friends with all the farm animals).

But we made the best of it we could, moving to Denver and drinking five whiskys in one afternoon to deal with the shock. Instead, I fell asleep upstairs and Andrew walked the streets talking to homeless people. He has a way of talking to homeless people everywhere we go. Even more than me, which is an endearing if not at times, unsettling, trait.

In Los Angeles we hired a car and both braved driving on the other side of the road. Which we loved. It was simultaneously fun, stressful, and empowering. We visited Santa Monica, Venice Beach, Hollywood, Beverly Hills and Disneyland. I’ve been going to LA since I was six, but it was Andrew’s first visit which made it a treat to be able to relive it through his ‘first-time’ experience.

Going to Disneyland as an adult, and with my husband was also pretty darn fun. We made ourselves ill on Space Mountain (zooming around the inside of a mountain on a roller coaster in pitch-darkness), I queued up for a photo with Goofey, we were caught in a gun battle cruising through the Pirates of the Caribbean, ducked under a deadly boulder and dodged booby traps in Indiana Jones, I spun until his tummy turned just watching me on the teacups and we saved the world on a mission with C3PO and R2D2 on the 3D adventure of Star Tours.

I only wished my brother and sister-in-law, niece and nephew were with us. Disneyland is made for kids. But it was fun being a big kid for a day and remembering the times I’ve been there over the years as I’ve grown older. “Maybe,” I thought, “Andrew’s gorgeous daughter will have children and one day we’ll go there as grandparents!” Now there’s a thought.

On the plane home I had a revelation.

I really didn’t need any of the speakers at the conference to give me the confidence I needed to build my business in line with my values and vision. And in fact, looking to them for too much inspiration, guidance or a ‘seal of approval’ was only holding me back. Which, ironically, was exactly what I needed to learn. It wasn’t how I wanted to learn it, but exactly what I needed. I was reminded that everything I needed was already within me (just as it is within you) and my closest support networks were more than enough. Life has a funny way, sometimes.

So I unfollowed hundreds of posts on social media in a concerted effort to free up the head space I used to hold so dear when I was solely an artist. I noticed how after building a business online, a lot of new connections, acquaintances and causes had entered my online space, and instead of pro-actively curating what was relevant to my life, I’d gotten used to just scrolling down through loads of posts from people I didn’t know, and promotions for things I didn’t need to know. Which only left me distracted, chasing ‘shinny objects’, or feeling a sense of comparison-itis. Curating my own social media by unfollowing close to three quarters of the content on there left me feeling more inspired, creative and freed up, mentally and emotionally, than I’d felt in months.

I also unsubscribed from dozens of newsletters I wasn’t reading and got back into carving out more time to simply sit, observe what’s happening around me, and not have to do anything.

So all in all, visiting America and walking out of the conference was a good, if not disappointing at the time, experience.

And my beloved husband, well, he was with me all the way.

In fact, we’ve come home and embraced all that Australia has to offer with an enthusiasm and glee that only Lacey-Jane could match. We found a piece of paradise close to home where there’s something for the whole family; a perfectly sheltered beach where Lacey can run off the leash. She loves to play with other dogs of all shapes and sizes, chase frisbees, sniff jelly fish on the shore, and stand on the boogie board as we swim out to sandbanks. She’s a surfer dog and judging from the photographers snapping away on shore, getting quite a following on social media I imagine. Oh the irony.

A few nights ago, after the electrician hooked up the power, we used the studio for the first time. While we were busy creating new art pieces together, Andrew looked at me and said, “This space is really going to change our lives. Like, even more than we realised, I think.”

I think he’s right.

He’s certainly changed mine.

And I’ve changed his.

I’m looking forward to our second year of marriage. If the first is anything to go by, there’s a lot to look forward to.

With love,

Nicola xx