Conjuring Kindred Company: When Recording Space Meets Magpie Tendencies
Sometimes where you do something feels every bit as important as what you’re doing in the first place. I’ve always been fascinated by the work/studio spaces of artists and writers, whether they’re incredibly austere or packed to bursting, organized or cluttered, chaotic or heavily curated.
With that in mind, I decided to share a look at where I record for Liminal Flares. This isn’t where our marvelous music and other audio witchery happen. But when I’m reading to you, this is where I’m seated.
For those who are curious about such things, I record using a PreSonus PD-70 microphone (fitted with a Shure A7WS windscreen) powered by an Elgato Wave XLR Preamp which is plugged into my Macbook Pro.
I record in the library of my house, primarily because it has three book-lined walls that absorb sound without doing anything to them. It’s also just a comfortable, private space, one that doubles as a guest bedroom when needed.
The room’s fourth wall features a large pair of windows, and I installed sound-absorbing curtains for those. They’re also fantastically effective blackout curtains. Once the door is closed and the curtains are drawn, this room feels like a hushed and cozy secret lair with an all but unlimited supply of reading material.
Two of the cats, the Sisters Zorya, consider the library their personal sanctuary as well, which is why I don’t always record entirely alone. You may spot Zorya Utrennyaya in a couple of these photos.
Despite what you see here, I did not initially intend to set up such an elaborate recording space. I began with an uncharacteristically utilitarian approach, thinking that what made the most sense was something I could easily put away when not using it. I bought a small sturdy folding table expressly for that purpose.
The thing is, utilitarian living isn’t me. When people talk about decluttering their homes, while they’re busy organizing and simplifying, I can’t relate. I appreciate and applaud figuring out what you need to do, what works for you and then doing that, of course. But I am not a KonMari method person.
The closest I’ve come are a few occasions when I’ve purged the bookshelves of the works of specific authors who turned out to be deplorable people. That form of decluttering ultimately sparks plenty of joy for me.
Were you to look anywhere else in my home you’d see there’s nothing at all utilitarian about the areas that I inhabit. Bare wall space is anathema to me. Sooner or later nearly every surface ends up covered in stuff and things that move, inspire, please, and or comfort me: stacks of books, pieces of art, assemblages of animal bones, skulls, antlers and horns, moss and lichen-covered branches collected on hikes, antique taxidermy, fossils, minerals, and crystal specimens, beeswax candles, daguerreotypes, tintypes, and other old, orphaned photos, birds nests and egg shells, various and sundry curiosities, jars of skins shed by my snakes, spider and cicada exuviae, feathers, seed pods, dried flowers and flower petals, and shed cat whiskers. And there tend to be flowers, bound in bunches and wired singly, hanging to dry from any opportune spot, particularly during spring and summer.
You get the idea.
Because the question has likely already crossed some of your minds: no, I am not good about dusting it all. That doesn’t mean it never happens, but neurodivergent brain + the inclination to leave cobwebs intact whenever reasonably possible mean that dusting is not a regular occurrence. While I suppose it all looks its best when freshly dusted, my inner Mx Havisham isn’t bothered by a little dust.
But I swear, I did set out to create a simple, practical recording space. I should’ve known that wouldn’t last. It wasn’t long at all before, as I sat there, I found myself getting up to grab this or that object to keep me company.
In fact, decorating this space happened with more intention than the organic way things tend come together to form an aesthetically pleasing area in my home. Adorning my recording space quickly took on something of a ritual aspect.
I began fetching objects from various parts of my home that were created by, received from, or otherwise connected to specific people in my life – people who have been sources of love and support, people who I know see me, people who inspire me, and people who do all of those things and more.
As I mentioned earlier, aside from the intermittent presence of a cat or two, I record by myself, behind a closed door. But I have also surrounded myself with a phantom audience of phenomenal humans (and a few animals) whose kinship, connection, support, guidance, creativity, and overall presence each somehow bolster me personally and make this whole peri-apocalyptic timeline richer, kinder, and more wondrous, magical, and beautiful.
And with that, here are links to a bunch of them or their respective businesses/shops/organizations. I’m sorry I can’t pair these links with tags on my photos, but I will do my best with that over on Instagram.
My only regret is that I didn’t purchase a larger table so that I could’ve included even more people. I had to leave space enough for me to comfortably record. But that limitation gives me an excellent reason to tear down and redo this space from time to time. So you can expect another post like this in due course.
