✨Art in Simple Spaces
Art in Simple Spaces
Cheryl Quejada Canning. June 2026 Sydney a 2-minute read.
“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.”
— William Wordsworth
There is a rhythm to my life that has nothing to do with perfect studios, curated corners, or the kind of aesthetic spaces people post online. My art has never depended on that. Wherever I live, wherever I go, I bring my art with me not as an accessory, but as an extension of who I am.
I’ve worked on canvases in tiny apartments, in borrowed rooms, in places where the only “studio” was a clean table, a window, and whatever tools I could carry. I’ve painted in between loads of laundry, in between errands, in between the quiet and the chaos. I don’t wait for ideal conditions. I improvise. I adapt. I create.
My supplies are always top‑quality, that’s the one non‑negotiable, but I don’t need a full set of colours or a perfect setup. Give me a few palettes, a surface I can turn archival, and natural light, and I’m ready. I can make a studio out of anything because the real studio is internal. The discipline, the instinct, the imagination they travel with me.
Maybe that comes from how I grew up. I was raised in Spanish houses: high ceilings, wooden floorboards, large windows that breathed light during the day and fell into deep darkness at night. Those spaces shaped my sense of home. Even now, wherever I live, I recreate that feeling - simple, airy, uncluttered. No frills, no excess, no “girly” décor. Just space, light, and quiet.
Except for two things.
Wherever I go, I always carry one small toy, something palm‑sized, colourful, soft. I pick them up randomly from Kmart, National Book Store, or a flea market. Never planned. Never collected. Just one. Right now, it’s a tiny avocado and a tiny watermelon. They sit quietly in my home, the only playful objects in an otherwise clean, intentional space.
And I always carry a children’s picture book. I’ve loved them since I was a child, the simplicity, the honesty, the colours that speak without explanation. At present, I have a book about feelings. My favourite page is brave, and its colour is orange. There is something grounding about that: bravery as warmth, bravery as quiet strength, bravery as a soft glow rather than a loud declaration. It mirrors the way I move through the world.
People sometimes ask why my spaces are so simple. The truth is: my inner world is already full. I don’t need to decorate my home to feel like myself. My art, my memories, my childhood influences, they fill the room long before objects do.
My work is not just something I make; it is something I carry. It is the one thing that follows me from place to place, the one thing that remains constant even when everything else changes. My art is my continuity. My grounding. My way of making any space feel like home.
So here I am, in between paintings again. A simple room. A clean table. Tools scattered in quiet readiness. Light coming through the window. Laundry humming in the background. A tiny avocado and watermelon toy watching from the corner.
A picture book about feelings resting nearby. Nothing fancy. Nothing staged.
Just me -
my art,
my space,
my process,
my truth.
And that is enough.
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