What I Found in a Liverpool Studio

A few years ago, I lived in Chester. I’d moved there with my ex-fiancé, as his family were based in Wales. After we parted ways, I stayed on for another year.

It was a quiet, reflective time, and I grew to like the place — though my flat didn’t have space for painting.

That’s when I started looking for a studio.

I put my name down on an art charity waiting list to get a subsidised studio.  When a space became available, I applied and was offered a spot in an old office building above Specsavers and McDonald’s, right in the centre of Liverpool.

My corner of the old office room, shared with 7 other artists, this was my first professional art studio in Liverpool. 

I was newly single, with lots of time on my hands, so I poured myself into my art. It was lovely — quiet, focused, just me and the paint.

When my landlord decided to sell my flat, I felt quite lost.

 I didn’t want to return to London, and since my studio was in Liverpool, the decision to move there felt like the natural next step.

I shared the space with seven other artists in one large room. My little corner was modest but perfect for what I needed. 

Being surrounded by other creatives taught me a lot — not just about art, but about energy. I found that the collective mood in a space matters more than people realise.

 Sometimes, the undercurrents of doubt or frustration others carried would linger in the air, and I had to be mindful not to take any of that on.

 It made me realise how important it is to protect your creative energy — and how the atmosphere of a place can deeply affect how you feel, create, and grow.

Eventually, I came to understand that I thrive in my own space. While there were moments of connection and inspiration, I found more clarity and freedom in solitude— my introvert soul at ease.

These days, I work alone in my studio, and while it can be quiet, I’ve learned to bring my own energy with me.

During my time at the Liverpool studio, I was deep in the testing phase for my print series, working with art print companies in Manchester and London. It took many trials (and more than a little testing money) to get them perfect, but the quality had to be right.

As for living in Liverpool — it wasn’t somewhere I ever imagined myself. I moved out of convenience more than desire. And while I know everyone experiences places differently, for me, it felt a little heavy.

Still, I had some truly meaningful weekends in that studio. I’d arrive early, move my body with some light exercise, then settle into painting.

I created about ten pieces during that period — three of which ended up exhibited in Madrid, Brussels, and Milan. That felt like a beautiful affirmation of the work I’d done during that chapter.

Looking back, I think the biggest thing I learned was how essential it is to tune into the energy around you — and within you.

 Whether it’s the people, the place, or your own state of mind, it all flows into the work you create. Learning to either align with that or separate from it became part of my practice.

The street below my studio, right in the heart of the city, with the Royal Liver Building rising in the background. A constant hum of life — buskers playing, shoppers wandering, children laughing.

So I did. 

I’ll always carry a soft spot for that studio. It was a space where I rebuilt, reconnected, and found a new rhythm. 

While I do miss it, I’ve found a new studio in Ireland — and more than that, I’ve found a way of working that feels fully my own.