Pinkbow (www.pinkbowlove.com) has come a long way since it started, and still has a very long way to go. It was definitely about time to move the business into it’s own studio and design space. After debuting its first time selling in Boston at the Ink Block market, it inspired me to seek out more space, a real professional space.
After some research and a few appointments, I fell deep for the studios and lofts at Western Ave. The community of artists was inspirational, and the space of wood flooring, brick walls, and riverside view was easy to fall in love with. I gave it a week of thought. During that week I couldn’t stop dreaming. I would picture the furnishings and start pinning ideas and envision exactly how I would utilize the space from the floor set, layout of everything, decor and displays. I knew that because I couldn’t stop thinking about it, it was the one, so I came back that following Friday to sign a lease. Signing that lease and having the manager hand me the keys felt so moving. Small chit chat, a few questions, and the trade of some signed papers for the drop of keys into my hands. It was like I now held the keys into a new path towards my dream. As soon as I walked out of the door of that office I gleamed with my boyfriend turning to me in congratulations. We walked towards the staircase to the new studio space. My eyes lingered along the works of neighboring artists in the building, admiring their accomplishments in their own spaces too, as I continued to think about what my walls would reflect of my accomplishments. Then we stopped, I inserted the keys into the lock, hearing only the grooves of the keys to the door matching up, a click and a turn and then a push open. My eyes loomed left, up, right, and then center, down at the old hardwood floors and up again at the brick wall with two large open windows that overlooked the riverside. This was it, the next step toward a dream. I moved forward, breathed in, ran my fingers along the brick and stopped to look out the windows. This was mine. I felt that only good things could come from it. I turned back to my boyfriend and he smiled, stating his ideas to me as he snapped shots of his favorite characteristics of the place. Yes, he had a vision too, and one that supported mine. He looked sweetly into my eyes in congratulations again. We cupped hands and set out to pick up a few tools to start the “nesting” process.
That night, we began painting the walls and the door in company of a few beers. It was a celebratory event with many more to come. When it was time to finally end the night, we cleaned our brushes, packed up the paint and finished the drinks. We gave our space a last glance for the evening and then turned the keys to pause on the progression for the moment. I left wishing I could spend all hours of the next few days giving all of my efforts and attention to the space and dream, but also happy knowing that at least I could get it started.