In another life, and for most of its life, the studio was a tractor barn, complete with an old rusted chain-hoist to change out implements, and scattered with the detritus of a working farm. I wanted to burn it down but Kathy looked out the broken garage door facing East over the old-growth apple orchard to the ridge of October Mountain and told me it would be perfect for the studio we had always talked about.

And so it has. We added the sculptured birch tree, a refinished soapstone sink, a woodstove and some old kitchen cabinets and slowly the place transformed over time — changing with the seasons, mediums, and her array of subjects.

I will admit when the smoke from the woodstove is curling and serious painting is happening, only Marco and Rosie (the dogs) are welcome.

I’m okay with that because sometimes at sunset when she drives away to photograph the Housatonic River in its moments of changing light, I sit in there and enjoy that simple space that defines her. — N.