Studio Tour with Jen Boehler

 

The studio in 1965 painted white is sits to the left. 
Do you see the little arborvitae planted next to it? 
Look how far it’s spread in the current exterior photo!

The summer of 2003 found me squarely planted in the estate sale circuit, collecting relics I had no space to store in our tiny condo. 
Luckily, on one of my treasure hunts I stumbled upon an adorable red brick farmhouse that had been vacant for the past ten years.  It was, along with its contents, for sale.  Inside waited a glorious challenge for this interior design student: Pepto-pink walls, a postage stamp-size kitchen and wall-to-wall carpeting straight from the sixties — Oh, the potential!  More favorably, it boasted plaster cove ceilings, built-in curios, and a kitschy telephone nook — Swoon.  My husband’s skepticism melted with my enthusiasm, along with the discovery of a little cedar-sided bunkhouse that sat adjacent to the house.  The previous owner had used it as his clubhouse, evidenced by the cigar smoke stains lining the walls.  Little did I know that in addition to being the perfect storage spot for my treasures, this gem would serve as an invaluable studio space someday, lending daily doses of inspiration and levity with its age-related quirks and storied past.

 

These photos were taken in 1984 and kindly given to me by the former owner’s daughter.  Oh, to be a fly on that knotty pine wall!

Following our exciting “First Home” purchase, I discovered the little house was originally a barracks at Camp Freeland for German prisoners of war during World War II, and was moved to our new property upon the war’s end.  The ARTICLES I’ve uncovered since reveal favorable conditions with the soldiers earning a living wage for work in nearby crop fields.  The evolution of the building’s purpose has always intrigued me, with the varied inhabitants having little-to-no commonality:  Prisoners of war, card-playing farmers, and illustrator/author.  This history also gives me pause each time I make a new improvement or design choice, as at times it feels I’m permanently tucking the past behind a coat of paint or treated two-by-four. 

The interior right after we bought the house as I was moving my “collection” in (notice Rusty’s easy chair sporting a tired teal brocade).

 

Shortly after we moved in and I graduated from college with an interior design degree, I used the space on rare occasion to meet with clients, but only seasonally: During the first few years I had to build a fire in the potbelly stove to stay warm in the winter (you can see it in the photos of the clubhouse days).  We relocated the wisteria once it grew too heavy for the aging overhang.

Me at the studio today (December, actually).

When delving into a studio conversion, I waffled over painting the knotty pine walls, but settled on brightening it up with an airy shade of white (followed immediately by plaguing shades of regret for forever erasing the possibility of leaning into its summer-camp vibe).  We removed the drop ceiling added in its card club heyday and covered it with wood extracted from a tumbledown barn out back, installed additional lighting, and replaced the rotted and peeling cedar siding with new.  Architectural details like the front porch and fireplace remain original, and will continue to be there as long as they are intact.  Though nonfunctioning, the fireplace serves purpose as a sanctuary for mother birds to raise their babies each spring, their hungry chirps always a sweet sign of the warm days to come.  The caveat?  On rare occasion, one of these birds will make their way down the chimney and into the studio, with the ensuing mayhem offering that previously mentioned dose of levity!

This tabletop was here when we bought the house,
so my husband used it to build a standing desk to hold my easel.

My daughter Violet with Rusty
after school in her fuzzy chair.

Vintage finds are still spread throughout, but they’ve each now found their purpose.  At the front of the space are my computer, files, and a fuzzy little chair found roadside and recovered for my daughter to pull up after school and chit-chat about the day’s events.  A standing-height skirted table built from a reclaimed top and salvaged fabric offers storage and surface for my easel.  At the center is a table inherited from my grandmother-in-law to paint and catalog textures for my cut-paper illustrations, surrounded by another collection of roadside chair finds for hosting craft nights with friends. 

My faithful studio-mate Rusty
in his easy chair.

A left-behind shelf, market storage bin and oversize crate house a handful of pieces from my Michigan apparel line, and fabric and crafting supplies have a home on salvaged tables and fruit crates.  Colored pencils are propped in a quartered barn beam, and patinated tins, vases and drawers house all other art supplies.  Perhaps most importantly, a reupholstered easy chair sits by the fireplace for Rusty, my faithful studio-mate.

This corner tickles me because it houses a little bit of every era and facet of my life, serving as a museum of sorts:  Painting night with my kids, hand-sewn apron, fine art, illustration, dried corn tassels from the garden, Michigan apparel, crafting supplies, SCBWI conference swag, and vintage finds aplenty.

The contempt I have for these shoes destroying my feet in the early 2000’s
is superseded by my captivation with their cuteness.

My husband enlisted a woodworking friend
to create this colored pencil holder out of a salvaged barn beam.

After designing a line of Michigan apparel ten years ago, I used the studio to store, ship and sell merchandise.  I still have a little corner saved for a handful of pieces.

My grandmother-in-law’s old table covered in supplies to paint and cut paper textures.

Though wonky floorboards sometimes evoke shades of the Mystery Spot and boxelder bugs find creature comfort inside the walls, this little bunkhouse is still my favorite part of the property I scored at an estate sale twenty-two years ago.  As time has passed, I focus less on the lives it lived before us and more on its evolution in the years since we’ve owned it, a reflection currently punctuated by a shift in our household.  By the time this article is published, my daughter will be moved into her college dorm, thus ushering in yet a new iteration of inhabitants and daily happenings.  So if anyone finds themselves in the Saginaw area with a hankering for creative chit-chat, let me know: I’ll have a fuzzy, reclaimed chair open for you.

 

Jen Boehler, Michigan Co-Illustrator Coordinator, is an illustrator, graphic designer and author working on a hobby farm in Saginaw, Michigan. Before pursuing children’s literature, Jen worked as a freelance editorial illustrator, graphic designer, interior/event designer and owned her own line of Michigan travel apparel. She has degrees in both art/graphic design and interior design.

Editor's Note: Thank you, Jen, for sharing your very cool studio with us! If anyone else is interested in sharing their studio with The Mitten, we'd love to see it! You can email me at Sarah.Prusoff.LoCsacio@gmail.com if you might be interested in doing a studio tour post.