The Joy of the Studio Visit
In our time of increasing engagement with art through digital portfolios and online gallery viewing rooms, there's something irreplaceable and joyful about standing in an artist's actual working space. We've spent the better part of a decade and a half regularly visiting artist’s studios. From converted mill buildings and warehouses to garage studios, spare bedrooms, living rooms, and everything in between. Each visit reveals something that no amount of Instagram scrolling could capture: each artist's relationship to their materials, their process; how they approach the work of making work.
Finding time to visit artist’s studios can be an incredibly enriching experience for designers and collectors who are interested in understanding not just what the artist has made, but how they think, what they're willing to abandon, and where they might be headed next.
In the studio of Lauren Bryden. Glasgow, UK.
Artists speak differently in their studios. Away from the performance of gallery openings or formal artist talks, conversations tend toward the technical, the experimental, or sometimes the uncertain. There's often a humility that emerges when an artist is surrounded by their own work history. They'll point to pieces they now consider failures, explain why certain approaches didn't pan out, or show you the happy accidents that opened new directions. This kind of transparency rarely surfaces in more formal settings, but it's invaluable for understanding the trajectory of a practice.
In the studio of Zoe Dering. Point Reyes, CA.
What the Camera Can Miss
Scale becomes visceral in person. A drawing that appears modest online suddenly commands the room when you're standing three feet away from it. Surface texture—the way ink sits differently on handmade paper versus commercial stock, or how a screenprint's opacity shifts under gallery lighting—these details disappear in digital translation but fundamentally affect how work functions in a space.
But it's not just about the technical aspects. Studio visits reveal the ecosystem around each piece: the preparatory sketches taped above the workbench, the color tests scattered across tables, the rejected versions turned face-down in corners. This peripheral vision
In the studio of Jonathan Ryan Storm. Northfield, MA.
Beyond the Finished Work
Studios reveal the artist's relationship to their materials—how they organize (or don't organize) their tools, which processes they return to repeatedly, what they're curious about but haven't yet mastered. These insights matter when you're thinking about long-term collecting or considering how an artist's work might develop.
We remember visiting a printmaker who had rows of meticulously labeled test prints organized by ink viscosity and pressure settings. The finished editions were beautiful, but seeing the systematic approach to problem-solving told us as much about the artist's seriousness and potential longevity as the work itself.
Conversely, studios that feel overly pristine or show-ready can be just as revealing—sometimes indicating an artist more concerned with presentation than process, or someone still finding their footing with their materials.
In the studio of Cody Hoyt. Brooklyn, NY.
The Practical Benefits
From a purely logistical standpoint, studio visits solve problems that digital communication can't. You can see work at actual size, assess surface quality, and understand how pieces might function in different lighting conditions. For designers working on specific projects, being able to hold work up against color samples or test it in various orientations is invaluable.
There's also the matter of availability. Artists often have work in the studio that isn't represented online—pieces they're still thinking about, older work they've held onto, or experiments that don't fit their current gallery narrative but might be perfect for a particular project.
In the studio of Orla Kane. Glasgow, UK.
Making It Happen
The best studio visits happen when there's genuine curiosity on both sides. Come prepared with specific questions about process or materials, but leave room for tangents and discoveries. Many artists appreciate collectors and designers who want to understand the work beyond its decorative potential.
For emerging artists especially, studio visits can be more accessible than you might expect. Most are happy to share their process with people who demonstrate real interest in understanding the work. Established artists with gallery representation may be harder to reach directly, but galleries often facilitate these connections for serious collectors.
In the studio of Julia Haft-Candell. Los Angeles, CA.
How to Prepare
A little homework goes a long way. Read the artist's CV to understand their educational background and recent exhibition history—knowing they studied at RISD or recently showed at a particular gallery gives you context for the conversation. Look at their recent work online, but focus on understanding their current preoccupations rather than memorizing their portfolio.
Come with thoughtful questions: How do they find the latest residency they’d be on? Whose work have they been personally drawn to look at lately? How has their work changed since their last show? What are they experimenting with that they haven't exhibited yet? Questions about process and problem-solving tend to generate more interesting responses than broad inquiries about inspiration or meaning.
Bring your eyes, not just your phone. While artists are usually happy to have their work photographed for reference, the most valuable part of the visit is what you observe in person. Notice how they organize their materials, whether they work in series and have multiple works in progress at any given time, which works they linger on when describing their practice.
In the studio of Henna Vainio. San Franciscon, CA.
What We've Learned
After years of studio visits, we've come to see them as essential rather than optional. The work we've collected after seeing it in context of the artist's broader practice has consistently been the work that we continue to discover new aspects of over time.
There's something about understanding the artist's relationship to their materials, their problem-solving approach, and their broader curiosities that changes how you see individual pieces. Work becomes part of an ongoing conversation rather than a discrete object, and that relationship deepens rather than diminishes with familiarity.
In an increasingly digital art world, the studio visit feels both old-fashioned and more valuable than ever. It's where the work lives before it becomes a commodity, where process reveals itself, and where you can witness the particular magic of someone wholly absorbed in figuring something out.