The studio - a special place.

Maybe triggered by a radio programme some weeks ago about artists' studios and a re-read of Alexander Liberman's The Artist in his Studio, on the train home from work yesterday I started thinking about the studios I've had over the years. I counted twelve. Some in cramped spaces and sometimes, in desperation, I worked from home. On one occasion I occupied a complete floor of a building with the choice of numerous empty rooms. I've used rooms in peoples' houses on payment of a painting and even painted outside in the garden when there was no other space.
It got me thinking about the nature and importance of the space in which I work.
Beggars can't be choosers and although light and space are the usual prerequisites I've often had to accept less than ideal. But one thing I have to be sure of - I have to be alone. 
I like the sounds of traffic, of people, of things going on in the outside world - they don't distract me. My mind is solely on the canvas and the palette. I have ideas of going out for coffee and bringing back lunch. In fact I do none of these things. I start work and lose all sense of time. When I leave, it's to go home.