Building a Garden Art Studio: From Spare Room to Creative Space
- 17 hours ago
- 9 min read
The beginning of a garden studio overlooking the Suffolk landscape.
BUILDING THE STUDIO
For years I imagined a studio that already existed somewhere — an old outbuilding with weathered timber, patina, textured walls and large windows letting the light pour in.
But sometimes the studio you imagine isn’t waiting somewhere. Sometimes it grows slowly from the ground beneath your feet.
When we moved here five years ago, I set up my studio in the spare room. It has been a cosy nest for my work — a little 2m by 3m space where many ideas began. But over the last couple of years I’ve felt a growing pull for something different.
I’ve worked in many different spaces before this one, including a 10ft x 12ft log cabin studio in my previous garden, which I loved for the way it connected me to the outdoors. I’ve shared some photographs of that space below.
More space.
More light.
More connection with nature around me.
I missed having a garden studio and found myself craving that closeness to the outdoors again. When I journaled about my work, the same words kept appearing: expansion and movement.
Eventually I realised the message was simple — it was time to make a plan.
The spare room studio was also featured in In Her Studio magazine, and I wrote about the other art studios I've had over the years in this earlier post: An Artist's Home.
Looking back, each studio I’ve worked in has shaped the work in its own quiet way.
The garden studio in my previous home brought me closer to the seasons and the rhythm of the land. The spare room studio here became a small cocoon for ideas during a time when life needed to be simpler and contained.
Now it feels like the work is asking for something different again — more space, more light, and a deeper connection to the landscape around me.
FINDING THIS PLACE
Before we even saw the house for the first time, we arrived early for our viewing and wandered down a hidden track through a nearby nature reserve.
The path opened onto a wide stretch of wild beach — pale sand, driftwood scattered along the shoreline and the quiet sound of birds and the tide. We stood there in silence, looking out across the water, both of us already sensing that this place might hold something important for us.
We were already in love before we even saw the house.
The house itself was small and very unloved, but the garden — all 400 feet of it — stole our hearts a second time.
From the bottom of the garden you can look out over a stretch of wild land where an ancient oak tree stands.
This is the studio view.
Wildlife moves through this space constantly:
woodpeckers, rabbits, muntjac, crows, buzzards and red kites.
In the late afternoon the sun begins to drop behind the trees and the whole garden glows. The studio faces west, so those evening hours will be a really magical time.
The landscape here already influences my work completely — the colours, the structure, the atmosphere. There is a kind of quiet magic in this place that seeps into everything.
WORKING WITH THE LAND
The garden slopes gently downward — probably around six feet lower at the bottom than the top — so the first challenge was deciding exactly where the studio should sit.
This took time.
For the past year I’ve been quietly observing that part of the garden, watching how the light moves through it across the seasons and how the neighbouring trees affect the sun.
Eventually the placement revealed itself.
We removed a fence, lifted turf and moved a surprising amount of soil to create a level platform. That level ground will make it much easier for me to access the studio, especially with my joint issues.
One unexpected discovery while digging was fragments of old blue and white pottery buried in the soil, small relics from whoever lived here before us.
They feel like little pieces of the garden’s history.
The groundwork has taken about seven weeks.
THE GROUNDWORK
The studio will be 14ft by 18ft, which is around 23 square metres.
My current studio in the house is just 6 square metres, so this feels like an enormous leap — almost four times the space I’ve been working in.
The difference already feels significant. The ability to move around large pieces of work, spread materials out, and work on the walls and floor will completely change how I can make. For many artists, having a dedicated garden studio offers the space and separation needed to work more freely, and I’m already beginning to see how transformative that shift might be.
We looked at many different options for the structure — including some beautiful buildings — but they quickly moved far beyond our budget. The rise in popularity of the ‘garden room’ has created a whole industry of companies offering turnkey solutions, often constructed in just a couple of days. Metal, wood, composite. Shepherd’s huts, SIP kits, bothies, storage containers, Okopods — it can quickly become overwhelming, and the prices aren’t always transparent until you are quite deep into a time-consuming enquiry.
In the end, we chose a log cabin from Powersheds. I’ve had a log cabin studio before and, with the right insulation, they can be wonderful spaces to work in.
It wasn’t quite the romantic old outbuilding I had imagined, but when quotes began reaching £40,000 and beyond, it quickly became clear I needed to step back from the trend and hype of the garden-room boom and put my practical hat on.
The quality of the timber Powersheds use and the strength of the construction, made the decision feel right.
The deciding factor was the quality of the build. The cabin is made from high-grade slow grown FSC Scandinavian timber, with joiner-made timber doors and opening windows, and double toughened glazing throughout. It felt like a solid, well-made structure that would provide the bones a studio needs. The right foundations, good quality materials, solid doors and proper glazing matter — they are the determining factors of how well a building holds up.
It may not be the romantic old outbuilding I once imagined, but the strength of the construction and the quality of the materials made it feel like the right choice.
The biggest decision we made was avoiding concrete for the base.
WHY WE AVOIDED CONCRETE
A concrete slab for a building this size would create a permanent pad roughly 14ft by 18ft, sealing a large section of ground beneath it.
Concrete prevents natural drainage, interrupts soil ecosystems and creates a surface that cannot easily return to living ground again. Once poured, it’s effectively permanent.
Instead, we chose a base system that allows the land to keep breathing.
The structure sits on a layered base made from:
• weed membrane
• type 1 hardcore
• a grid system
• and gravel
This creates a strong, stable base while still allowing water to drain naturally through the ground.
Another advantage is that the entire base can technically be dismantled in the future, meaning the land is not permanently altered.
It felt like a more sympathetic way to build.
THE PHYSICAL WORK
Building the base has been very physical.
Most days have involved four to six hours of digging and wheelbarrowing soil, reshaping the slope and moving materials around the garden.
With my back injury I’ve had to pace myself carefully, but I’ve still been able to do some of the work — weeding, levelling sections of soil, raking the hardcore and using a vibrating plate compactor to settle the ground.
My husband has done the lion’s share of the work — all of the major groundworks, building the retaining walls and constructing the timber steps that lead down the side of the studio. I've been incharge of the budget, the materials sourcing and the design.
He’s an artist too, but with some very serious practical skills. The work has taken its toll physically — it’s not easy labour — but I’m hoping that when it all starts to come together, stepping back and seeing what he has created will feel like its own reward.
A couple of friends are coming to help when the cabin itself arrives.
So far the biggest mishap has been the wheel falling off our brand new wheelbarrow… entirely my fault the only bolt I forgot to tighten!
DESIGNING MY GARDEN ART STUDIO
The studio will face west, with double windows and a half-glass door looking directly toward the garden and the evening sun.
There will be high landscape windows along the north and south sides and a window on the east wall, meaning you’ll be able to look straight through the cabin and out toward the view beyond.
The design process was really flexible. I spoke to a very helpful member of their team on the phone and then went back and forth a few times refining the layout until it felt right.
For an additional £80 they offer a bespoke design service, which allowed us to adjust the window and door placement and add extra windows and doors so the building would work with the light and the view. Being able to shape the design around how the space will actually be used made a huge difference.
After quite a long search I found specialist garden building roof windows, I've ordered three to bring in some north light — the traditional light of artists. North light is soft, steady and consistent throughout the day, which means it doesn’t distort colour the way direct sunlight can. For painters and photographers it’s invaluable.
But beyond all the practical considerations, what I really want this space to feel like is a deep breath.
A place to breathe.
Full of energy and inspiration.
IMAGINING THE INSIDE
Inside the studio there will be space for different parts of my practice — painting, textiles, photography, journaling and experimentation.
There will definitely be an altar space — crystals, incense and herbs — a quiet place to begin and end the day. A small ritual of grounding before the work begins and a moment of reflection as the light fades across the garden and the evening sun drops behind the trees.
And perhaps most excitingly, I’ll finally have room for materials and equipment that don’t have room inside the house: my sewing machine permanently set up, screen printing equipment, clay, larger pieces of work.
I imagine the first day working in the studio will feel slightly unreal.
One of those quiet pinch-me moments.
WHAT HAPPENS NEXT
The cabin arrives on 12th March, and if all goes well the structure itself should be assembled in about three to four days.
After that the next stages begin:
• painting the exterior
• insulating the interior
• finishing and painting the inside
I’m currently torn between a deep black finish or something softer like Farrow & Ball’s Broccoli Brown or Atelier Ellis Della Casa. I used Little Green Paint Company Lamp Black for my caravan which I love but am leaning towards something a bit richer.
Whichever colour we choose, I’ll be documenting the whole process here.
A Vessel for the Work to Come
Building this studio feels like creating a vessel for the next phase of my creative life.
It will be the place where the next body of work begins to emerge — where ideas have room to stretch, where materials can spread across walls and floors, where I invite others in for open studios and where I can step fully into the kind of making that ignites me.
Sometimes the studio you imagine isn’t the one you find.
Sometimes it’s the one you build — slowly, shovel by shovel — until the space begins to take shape around the work that’s waiting to emerge.
And this is just the beginning.
Over the coming weeks I’ll be sharing the process of building this studio — from the cabin arriving, to painting, designing the interior and finally moving the work into its new home.
As I’ve been sharing snippets of the studio build, a few questions have already come up — so I thought I’d answer them here.
A Few Questions I’ve Been Asked About the Studio Build
How big will the studio be?
The studio will be 14ft by 18ft, which is around 23 square metres. My current studio inside the house is just 6 square metres, so this new space will give me almost four times the room to work.
Why did you choose a log cabin for your art studio?
After exploring many different types of garden studios and garden rooms, we decided on a traditional log cabin structure. With the right insulation and good quality timber construction, they can make excellent artist studios while remaining more affordable than many turnkey garden room solutions.
Why didn’t you pour a concrete base?
We wanted to avoid permanently sealing the ground with a concrete slab. Instead we used a layered base of membrane, hardcore, a grid system and gravel. This allows natural drainage and means the base could technically be dismantled in the future without permanently altering the land.
Will you share the rest of the studio build?
Yes — I’ll be documenting the whole process here on the blog, from the cabin arriving and construction to painting the exterior, designing the interior and finally moving my work into the new space.
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