Name…That…Studio!
Fellow Rabbit Roomers, I need your help. As exciting as anything that has happened to me in these gloomy, heavy-set winter months is the recent re-purposing of my little white backyard shed into a new art studio. I’ll soon be wearing my tomato red art apron in a new kind of kitchen. I get to create sawdust and — glory of glories — leave it on the floor. (Of course I’ll sweep it up eventually because I like a clean floor but still, it’s the principle of the thing.) This past Sunday, mom and dad helped me sucker-punch that sad, cobwebby excuse for a storage shed into a beaming beacon of creative promise. It only took five hours! We moved all of my work tables, tools and crates of old bits and pieces and odd junk out to the particle-board womb. They now look up at me with gratitude and appear so much more at home than in the spare bedroom they’ve inhabited for a year and a half. Dad even wired me for lights (we’ll just see how soon I blow a fuse since it’s just an extension cord from the house) so it’s bright, cheerful and well-appointed.
Now here’s where you come in: I need a clever name for the place. I like the word “shed” for many reasons, but am not limited to its use. Woodshed? Toolshed? Shed Your Inhibitions? The Little Shed that Could? Or, completely forsaking the “shed” concept, Putter Palace? Dabble Dorn? Tinker Toiddle? I need something simple and poetic, literary and poignant. Furthermore, it needs to fit comfortably on a smallish sign I will create for the outside. Ideas? Gimme. My brain is slugging slowly today and I need a little nudge. I’ll take it out of park and turn the steering wheel, you just lean in with your shoulder and PUSH.
The originator of the winning entry will be flown, first-class, to Nashville and may enjoy an all-expense-paid, three-day, two-night stay in said Shed, complete with three meals daily left outside the door and intermittent use of the facilities inside the house (when the occupants are at home). There is a couch which is quite well-worn but comfortable, and lights are extinguished at 9pm sharp. The artist’s workspace may be used by guest but must be left exactly as it was before. Tools may be used for a small fee. A safe is not supplied in the Shed, so bring valuables at your own risk.
Edior’s note: Due to the current economy the Rabbit Room’s budget for Shed-Naming Awards has been cut and despite our fervent lobbying we have been unable to convince the powers that be that we are worthy of inclusion in the national stimulus package. Therefore, we feel that it is, while regretful, necessary to point out that this and all subsequent Shed-Naming Awards and their associated prize vacations shall be paid for solely by the designate of said award.
A.S. Peterson has crafted a work of compelling historical fiction which begs the question, “Can this really be a debut novel?” With dogged fidelity, Peterson captures the spirit, manners, and social conditions present during the American Revolutionary War. We meet colorful, credible characters who navigate the high seas of life and love, dependence and independence, war and peace, truth and consequence, and despite forays into dark places, The Fiddler’s Gun is beautiful, lyrical, and redemptive.
Walt Wangerin, Jr. strikes again.
Janner Igiby lives in Glipwood, a nothing little village in the land of Skree, on the edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. Manhood is on the horizon, but Janner finds it hard to feel much hope for the future. Skree is ruled by foreign oppressors, snake men called the Fangs of Dang, servants of a shadowy emperor named Gnag the Nameless. The Skreeans are weak and weaponless. They’re even tool-less. Any Skreean who needs to use a hoe has to borrow one from the Fangs (and fill out the requisite paperwork). And from time to time, the Black Carriage arrives in Glipwood to carry young Skreeans toward an unknown fate across the Dark Sea.
I am not a fan of Civil War literature; in fact, I have always thought of it as one of those weird sub-genres for obsessive types. They’re almost like Trekkies with their re-enactments and maniacal devotion to detail. It’s just not my thing (although I’m secretly jealous that they get to dress up and shoot cannons).
A Randall Goodgame song is like a great independent movie. Characters deliver lines like they were lifted from a break room, a truck stop, or a downtown diner. Seemingly incongruent scenes are juxtaposed and plot isn’t obvious; in fact, narrative–a good story–is often more evident than linear plot lines. An indie movie, like a Randall Goodgame song, seems to tell itself. Rather than being rudely yanked by a chain through a sequence of contrived events, with a Randall Goodgame song, I have the sense that I’m being allowed a willing, but vicarious sneak peak into the real lives of his real characters.
Sara Groves irritates me just a little bit. With each album she makes, she moves from strength to strength and is always raising the bar with the quality, depth, and lyrical ambition of her work. And as a fellow artist, that’s just a little irritating since it means the rest of us are going to have to work harder if we hope to keep up.
I am outside on my front porch. The yellowed leaves are methodically falling from the black walnut in the yard, my breath is chalky visible in the recent cold snap, and lately I have been exploring the unpleasant nuances of the dark night of a soul - my own, to be exact. It is a strange passion we live out on this over-glorified orb of rock hurtling through space at some rate that I’m sure would astound me were I to know what it was. It is an odd series of days, I am realizing, when you question your own faith more than you question your own doubt. And, indeed, it is these nagging questions which have prompted me to share my thoughts on Andrew Peterson’s 2003 album, Love and Thunder.
11-year old Reuben Land, a character in the 2001 book Peace Like a River, provides narration that is clear-eyed and insightful, yet retains the magic, wonder, and innocence of youth. I found it easy to entrust my imagination to the author’s clever method of telling the story through the sensibilities of a pre-teen boy. An author with lesser skill would have either made the boy too smart-alecky for his own good or impossibly cute.
I just finished a book that upon closing it, I felt like it finished me in a sense. A quiet meditative book that reached down and stirred the deep waters in me. It’s Marilynne Robinson’s 2005 Pulitzer prize winner Gilead, given to me by my friend Andrew Peterson.
Eric Peters’s body of work addresses a diverse range of topics, but hope is a recurring theme that gently percolates in the midst of it all. And yet, somewhere between the 2001 masterpiece Land of the Living, and Scarce, the flavor of hope that Peters’s work emits has evolved closer to a tone that is more resolute than what came before. And though the complexion of hope has a broad range, the lyrics from Scarce–while intermittently contrite and timorous as in previous efforts, are now strengthened and bolstered by roots that have grown deeper, radiating an underlying grit and security.
Having read The Great Divorce many times over the years, I’ve found this classic from the great C.S. Lewis to be full of startling clarity and depth on the differences between Heaven and Hell. The only thing both have in common is that both begin in the human will; we can either let Heaven enter us and rule in us to blossom into love and goodness, or allow Hell to infect and reign in our hearts by the daily refusal to submit to Heaven.
Even if you haven’t heard Room to Breathe, its still likely you’ve heard Andy Gullahorn. He’s what I’d call a heavy lifter by trade. He writes lyrics, plays guitar, arranges vocals and adds production help to the work of artists like Jill Phillips and Andrew Peterson.
Allow me to preface this by telling you that I am a great despiser of gushing reviews. I’d much rather write (or read) a scathing dismemberment of the latest Brett Ratner film or Terry Goodkind book than suffer through four hundred words of overblown hyperbole about even the best of things. But when asked to write some thoughts on Frederick Buechner’s Godric, no amount of distaste for high praise was able to intervene. I hope you’ll take what I say with the understanding that I do not say it readily or lightly.
The “Rabbit’s Hole”. This is both a nod to Rabbit Room, but also to Alice and Wonderland and the place that leads you to another world.
Evie, I love your artwork on BTLOG and I’ve been wanting to give you the info for a free artist retreat on a Maine Island near my home. I don’t know your contact info. Can you access my email addy from here?
He Shed She Shed
Right on Shedule
Shedrack, Myshack, and Abedtogo
Right Shed Fred
(alt. Right Said Shed)
Me and My Shedow
Coates Closet
Ok, so they’re not literary, poetic, poignant…But they might fit on a sign. Or something. Nevermind.
The Art Womb?
The Maker’s Hyatt?
The Creative Head’s Sweat-and-Blood Shed? (sorry, I was thinking of my last record. That is a procrastination-generating name if ever I saw one).
I like the AP song about looking into that darkness and speaking, “Let there be light.”
When your spirit is hovering over the deep
In the image of God just look into that darkness and speak
And say, “Let there be light, let there be love, let there be music.”
Dorothy Sayers’s “The Mind of the Maker” might generate some good ideas.
I take Naming seriously, even if I joke around.
Oh, man, let’s see…
The Watershed
Light Shed (playing off of Ron’s observation of looking into the darkness and speaking “Let there be light”)
I’ll try to think up some more.
Evie, have you ever considered selling some of your art on Etsy.com or something similar? I love the stuff you did for BtLoG and the stuff on your Flickr stream.
Evie,
After reading your post, the first thing that sprang to mind was “Soul Kitchen”
I’m certain that this crowd will give you a good long list to choose from.
In keeping with Rusty, “Down the Rabbit Hole.”
Rabbit Room, Alice, and Matrix all wrapped up in one.
Also in light of Andrew’s song, “The Speak-Easy.”
To pull from Narnia, The Wardrobe…Where a new world is discovered after passing through some…uh…Coates. Ok, this is getting ridiculous. I’m truly sorry. I’ll get back to engineering now.
My brain is slugging today as well…. but here goes:
Camp Coates
Second Coates
The Coate Room
Coativity Cabin
Coates Closet
Southern Exposure
The Seed (of an idea) Shed
The Artmaker’s Shed
IdeaShed
Shed of an Idea
ArtBox
ArtHouse
Think Tank
The Night Light
Red Sable Stable
The Tool Taboret
Evie’s Art Park
GUPH (Grown Up Play House)
shed - transitive verb to radiate or disperse something, especially light.
You called this shed a “beaming beacon of creative promise”. How about Beacon or The Radiant Room?
If you are a “Lost” fan, how about “The Hatch.” It conjures mystery, birth, and a story bending time and space. It was also the place where if the button wasn’t pushed on a regular basis, the world as they knew it would implode– sort of like the creative process for the artist.
How in the Sam Hill am I going to choose?? Friends, this is fun. My sides are hurting from laughing at some of these. Especially “He Shed She Shed.” Holy crap, that’s funny. I must say that #13 struck a chord immediately with me: THE HATCH. I love it. I am a huge “Lost” fan, it’s succinct and cool, mysterious and underground-feeling. It also implies a nest sort of place where ideas, well, “hatch.”
When I imagine myself telling my housemate that I’ll be working on some artwork and I hear myself saying “If you need me or if Ed McMahon comes to the front door, I’ll be in The Hatch”….well that’s just awesome. It also makes me feel like a bit of a mad scientist, which I feel like a lot of the time with my wild hair flying as I wield my power tools. Well, this might be the front-runner for now, but keep ‘em coming.
“The Shedding” has a mythic quality to it.
Mine were just silly. The Hatch. Now that’s the real thing. Nicely done Russ. Don’t tell me what happened last night though. I missed it.
The more I think about “The Shedding,” the more I like it. “The Shedding” of light and blood and ideas and sweat and self (and even our winter coat(e)s). That’s what the creative process is for me.
If you don’t use the name, Evie, I think I may have to build a studio and use it myself.
So I think I have a kindred spirit with Aaron. I thought of a couple of those after I read the post and the others were side-splitting. Of course, my wife rolls her eyes every time I come up another pun.
Evie, the Hatch is probably perfect, but if you’re an Office fan, “That’s what She Shed” deserves some serious merit.
Ah, Matt I’m still laughing at That’s What She Shed. A lot of these are far funnier if you try to say them out loud. My coworkers probably thinking I’m developing a speech impediment.
I missed it too — no spoilers. And also guys, remember the David Wilcox post when I talked about my favorite line he whispers eerily at the beginning of “Down Here”?
“The Hatch is locked….”
But Matt, I am also a huge “Office” fan and “That’s What She Shed” will probably land somewhere in my top three…..
I’d like to thank the academy for this opportunity to set an example to the young people of the world. And to my friends Tony, Aaron and Matt. I wouldn’t be here without your steady support. And to Home Depot for supplying what this dream took to build.
(I’m crying now, trying to speak, but unable due to the catch in my throat. I take a deep breath. Okay, I’m ready to continue.)
And to Evie. We’ve never met in person, but this shed naming journey we’ve been on together seems like something I’ve been a part of my whole life if I were born around lunch time today.
(Orchestra begins to play. My cherub, tear-streaked face turns to indignation. “Put that oboe down, sir, before I shove it…” Silence.)
As I was saying, Evie, when you shut down for the night, you can ask, “Is it? Yes, the hatch is locked.” Or “No, the hatch isn’t locked.” And then you could lock it and say, “The hatch is locked.” I think they call that a pneumonic device. I call it simple safety and security, myself.
You could play Carpenter’s records in there– which would work on the “Lost” level, but also on the “my art involves some carpentry” level too.
Take that, Mickey Rourke!
I figured all of my adoring fans and shed-namers might appreciate some further imagery of the place…..
EXTREME MAKEOVER: SHED EDITION
If you are a LOST fan then it has to be “The Hatch”. Have that image of the beam of light coming out of the LOST Hatch on the sign. Here’s my favorite LOST song for further inspiration - Joe Purdy’s “Wash Away”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=utY-gXhRJ5c&feature=related - One of my favorite LOST scenes too. “Three days ago we all died. We should all be able to start over.” - Jack Shephard
Hi Evie,
You have opened the can off this one.. good ideas out there - I too am a Lostie and love “The Hatch”. I am not sure if that could be topped.
Since alot of the Hatche were named in Lost, give yours a name too:
Coates Hatch
(Your Favorite Flower)Hatch
The Dang Hatch (a nod to AP Literature)
Also I liked the Spanish translation for Shed or Hatch are pretty much the same “Sustantivo” Or “Cabana”(hut)
I’m gonna play off your kitchen reference and suggest:
The Oven.
A place where ingredients come together, where the sweltering heat of focused labor forges a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts.
Mmmmm.
Where the Magic Happens… that way when someone asks you where you are going, you can say “I am going to Where The Magic Happens.” Or “This was created at Where the Magic Happens.”
The Outhouse.
(Insert jokes here.)
Definitely “The Hatch”. It’s short, sweet, and to the point. And just cool to say.
And if you want to toss a pun, it can be the place where you “hatch” ideas….ah the gestational metaphor of art…..
My vote would be for the hatch because it kind of hit me like “why didn’t I think of that” . . . but it’s probably because I don’t watch Lost. (I tried once, but was pretty Lost myself since the show had been running for several seasons.) There is also a Rich Mullins song called “The Hatching of a Heart” which only strengthens my support.
The Hatching of a Heart
Rich Mullins
Well the night was cold and my heart was
Hidden very safely in a shell
But I knew somehow I’d have to run that risk
Have to open up myself
Look at the stars on the face of the sky
They’re the same ones Abraham saw
Come under my wings I will make you shine
Give you strength enough to love
Oh now I’m getting strong enough
You helped me chip my way out and open myself up
And for the snow that comes with winter
For the growth that comes from pain
For the joke I can’t remember
Although the laughter long remains
For the faith that brought to finish
All I doubted at the start
Lord I give you praise for all that makes
For the hatching of a heart
Well my face was smooth and featureless
Just like an egg
And if I was moved you would never guess it
By the look upon my face
But You said man looks without but I look within
I can see the love you hide
It’s a matter of doubt it’s a symptom of sin
It’s a problem of too much pride
And now I’m opening up wide
Wet feathers pulled out from beneath me
And You’re teaching me to fly
For the strength that comes with friendship
For the warmth that comes with hope
And for the love time can’t diminish
And for the time love takes to grow
And for the moonlight on the water
And for the bright and morning star
Lord I give you praise for all that makes
For the hatching of a heart
And for the moonlight on the water
And for the bright and morning star
Lord I give you praise for all that makes
For the hatching of a heart
Chad,
Love the Rich Mullins reference. That pretty much seals the deal for me — “The Hatch” or something like that.
Evie,
You did a post on lilies and said you usually choose white Casablanca lilies. So, if “The Hatch” is too generic, then “The Lily” or “Casablanca” (you’d have to paint the shed white though
Chad,
Back to LOST…Fear not son. All prior seasons of LOST are on the web for free. Go here and get sucked in like the rest of us: http://abc.go.com/primetime/lost/index?pn=index This full player starts up with “LOST untangled.
Click on “free episodes” to launch the player and then select Season 1.
I resisted in Season 1, just watching a bit here and there. But it was the episode called “Dave” in Season 2 that got me hooked. When I watched that show, I went “What?!” and had to go back to the beginning.
I got the rest of the Heringers involved from there and now its a family obession. It was worth the trip.
If you are on NetFlix or some other service, I’d get the DVDs as they also contain some fun commentaries and allow you to watch several shows uninterrupted which is fun given the format is a cliff hanger style.
So, as Hurley might say “Go for it dude!”
I think get a pet (cat, dog, turtle, rock…whatever) and name it Adam and then you can choose either “Eden” or “Nod.”
“(Orchestra begins to play. My cherub, tear-streaked face turns to indignation. “Put that oboe down, sir, before I shove it…” Silence.)”
Hilarious, Russ. Especially the “cherub, tear-streaked face…”
Aaron,
Yes! Russ even tucked in a Mickey Rourke reference in honor of Pete’s recent post.
Evie,
I will happily donate a brand new iPod (video nano) tot he winner of the contest, courtesy of Wiley publishing> just tell me where to send it.
My entry: Evie’s Warren.
And if I win, I’ll give the iPod to your second choice.
Larry
In a nod to Tony’s recent reply (see Wall-E + Coldplay), how ’bout Apophenia which is the experience of seeing patterns or connections in random or meaningless data. Kind of similar to the role of an artist.
Ooooo, Chad. Way to see a pattern or connection in seemingly unconnected entries. I like this one a lot. But also love The Hatch. Maybe instead of a flower name, the “nickname” of The Hatch” could be The Apophenia? It sounds like a flower, doesn’t it? AND, isn’t apophenia what Lost is all about??? Hmmm.
Evie, you may be my current hero. LOVE the wall papered with pages from Aesop’s fables, the lights above the bench, the collection of stuff above the flat file, and the lampshade made from an old map of Texas.
After viewing the Makeover photos, I like Apophenia even more. That shed could be the definition of apophenia. It’s fun to look at your treasures and try to figure out the connections.
My deepest thanks to you fine folks who have been kind enough to scrounge around in those undulating brain waves of yours and offer up your wits. It has been a delight reading your entries, and I find myself with the difficult task of choosing just one….unless I want to put the place on a rotating monthly schedule of names, but I’m afraid, while it would widen the margins for my decision-making process, it would create a real identity crisis for the poor little structure. Nay, one — one must rise above the rest and be (insert bright angel choir “aaaaaahhhhhh”)…..chosen.
In a new and surprising development, a lovely fellow named Larry has offered up an iPod Nano to the winning player. I wrote to him and asked if he was a spam-monster, and he wrote back and said “no I’m not.” Am I too trusting? No seriously, he’s legit. Even the Proprietor gave it the all-clear.
I will print out the list of entries, pore laboriously over them with a magnifying glass and a glass of something else, I’ll sleep on it for good measure, and will and announce the winner first thing this Friday morning. That’s 48 hours. Now this means that anyone with further ideas must enter them before I go to bed on Thursday. Who knows when that will be? Better not take a chance.
I have never wielded quite this much MP3-player-bestowing power (to my knowledge). To be honest, I feel a little drunk. And it’s only 8:30 in the morning.
Shevie
I’m so happy that you spelled ‘pore’ right. Do you have any idea how often that’s misspelled as ‘pour’? I’ve even seen it wrong in print.
Pete,
Thanks for that tid-bit, it took me to this article: http://www.dailywritingtips.com/poring-over-pore-and-pour/.
Pore could be another name for the shed as the noun form is from a Greek word that means “a passageway.” Well, that maybe a stretch but thanks for the usage note.
If you like this sort of thing, check out this interview with Roy Blount Jr. author of “Alphabet Juice” — a book that deserves some Rabbit Room love.
http://www.pba.org/afn/event.php?forumEventId=2538
By the way, this interview with Roy was filmed at the Margret Mitchell house in Atlanta. Can there be a better place to interview a Southern author like Blount? I think not y’all.
Ok so I already mentioned I liked The Hatch.
I do want to add some I have come up with since this began. (Amazing what you think about while driving):
The Dig Shack
MoonShanty
The Junk Chapel
The Artimous
Lean-To-Art
The Kiln
The Dugout
Foxhole
Folks, it’s go-time. I could go on and on about many of these entries but that would take all day and I’ve got art to hang in the hallways. So….
Coming in at…
3rd place: He Said She Shed
2nd place: Shevie
Annnnnd the winner is…… (drummmrollllllpleaseeventhoughyoualreadyknowwhoitis)…..
THE HATCH! Congratulations Russ! Give that man a green video Nano iPod!! (unless, of course, he wants to kindly donate it to the awarder to use in The Hatch for the furtherment of artworks to come which need music to “hatch” by, for posterity’s sake, and for the love of a friend whose current iPod is on the fritz, but only if he feels like it)
Honorable Mention:
That’s What She Shed
Basically every entry by Aaron Roughton (I think you’re quite funny. My mom does too, and she’s a good judge of funny.)
So thanks to all who played, I hope that I didn’t make any of you cry, and Russ, what can I say? You’re a genius. I’ve already been using the name and it fits like a glove. Last night I showed it to some friends and I yelled across the yard, after I had turned the key…”The Hatch is locked.”
Um. It seems my acceptance speech above might have been a bit premature– but only a bit. I stand by every word. I would say it’s an honor just to be nominated. But that’s not how I feel. I won! And that’s way more awesome!
I guess that makes this my after party. And where’s Mickey Rourke? Nowhere to be seen. That’s where. Probably crying somewhere, listening to the sound of his own sobbing because unlike me, he has no iPod to drown out the sound of his unrelenting sorrow. I guess he can’t handle the full-nelson of awesomeness I shall forever have him in.
For the record, my boastful, glory-grabbing self-pronouncement as the winner transcribed above occurred before there was an actual prize on the line. I feel a little like the folks in that “Secret Santa” episode of “The Office” where everyone had a $20 limit, but Michael used some of his year end bonus to bring a video iPod and it made everyone else feel a bit cheated.
So here’s what I think I’ll do. I hereby relinquish one green iPod video nano to the Hatch, for the purposes of bringing joy and fostering creativity to the owner of said Hatch, and for the purpose of sprucing up the joint.
And although I have absolutely no power to do so, I’m feeling generous, so I’m also going to throw in the complete Rabbit Room Store Audio Collection– one of each record in the store (digital format only)! The Proprietor might have to adjust that promise a bit, (sort of like how the initial prize in this contest was adjusted) and you’ll have to go to him to collect on that anyway. So good luck with all that.
And if in the future there ever emerges a homeless piece of art from The Hatch that might look good in a suburban Kansas City home, the wife and I would gladly adopt it. But that’s your call.
One last thing that bears repeating. In your face, Mickey Rourke!
Congrats Russ, that was my favorite name too. I loved the acceptance speeches — in particular the cross reference to “The Wrestler” post by Pete
Evie,
If you put Rabbit Room tunes in The Hatch we may all show up to hang out for the good vibrations.
All,
Can anyone expound on the C.S. Lewis connections on LOST? This last episode (entitled “316″) was a rich one for folks in these parts. Perhaps one of our authors would care to expound in a separate post? If you missed it, the full episodes can be viewed here: http://abc.go.com/primetime/lost/index?pn=index
Even if you are not a fan, this is an episode that you need to watch.