How to Create an At-Home Artist's Residency

+ reflecting on a surreal experience at Château d'Orquevaux

I used to have a story about myself that it was hard for me to make friends. I chalked it up to my autism, intolerance for small talk & loud environments, or the fact that I operate on spiral time. But a recent artist’s residency at Château d’Orquevaux dismantled that story completely—I just had to find the artists.

At this residency, I spent three weeks in a chateau nestled in the Eastern countryside of France, in a quaint village of just 50 people. The castle itself was anything but—I’d open my magnificent bedroom windows each morning to overwhelming beauty: a giant, gentle stream that led to a swimmable pond, rolling green hills dotted with grazing cows & grape-bearing vines, swaths of gigantic trees & grasses swaying in the wind. I’d let in the cool morning breeze—an orgasmic respite from the unrelenting summer heat that settled into my room each night—and twirl around my room like a princess. “Ahh, another day at the chateau.”

Such a serene, sublime setting made for a transcendent daily ritual: I’d meditate, grounding in the energy of the trees and the sound of the flowing stream. Tip-toe downstairs in my pajamas and greet my fellow artists making breakfast from a bountiful spread of fresh fruit, croissants, and eggs. We’d ask, “How’d you sleep?” and “What are you working on today?,” genuinely interested in the other’s answer. I’d make an iced coffee, grab a yogurt, and slip back into my room to write.

I will never, ever get over this writing desk

The chateau was a vortex. 27 brilliant artists, creating feverishly at all hours of day & night, fueled by champagne & baguettes & the surreal beauty of the French countryside. On the first day, I found Gizem, a Turkish painter who creates spooky, gorgeous compositions with pigments she makes from the Earth. I instantly recognized how easy it was to be with her—we’d eat meals outside in quietude while the dining room reverberated with chatter, stay back to admire a slug while the rest of the group walked on, gaze at the stars burrito-ed into a single blanket, squealing with awe as meteors streaked through the night sky.

Gizem’s studio neighbored Chantey’s, a Palestinian-Indian-Canadian artist who exudes warmth & wisdom, and whose paintings are simultaneously heart-breaking & heart-making. Later, I befriended Julie, a sculptor who worked non-stop to build a pièce de résistance: six lifelike legs, positioned on a long table with dinner plates & fruits like a sensuous feast. I’m not sure I can pinpoint what drew the 4 of us together, but we orbited around each other with effortless magnetism, drawing tarot cards late into the night, listening deeply to shared stories, and offering massages & spritzes of cool water when the heat sedated us.

At the end of the residency, there was an Open Studio where the writers read their work, and the visual artists opened up their studios for folks to walk through. Experiencing everyone’s art at the open studios was overwhelming—I saw how each artist created an entire universe that was uniquely theirs, composed of their own textures, obsessions, colors, and lived experiences. And, after becoming genuine friends with all of the artists in my cohort, it was a magnificent reconciliation of what I’d learned of them as a human, with what their soul created through their art. Taking in this spectacular, interdisciplinary body of work by newfound friends I shared such sacred space with was well beyond what I could process in a single dose.

the open studio of the talented & gorgeous Emily Bombere

At the Writer’s Open Studio, I read new poems about the Earth as my lover, the relationship between beauty & terror, and the world-building power of the artist. People came up to me afterwards with tears in their eyes, unable to locate words but wanting to relay how my poems touched them. They were speechless.

It reminded me:

Artists have the power to enter, touch, and move a soul. This is real power.

The next time I slip back into the colonized world’s capitalist rhythms and think, “What am I doing with my silly little poems while the world is on fire?”, may I remember that poetry isn’t frivolous during a time of collapse—it is necessary.

The artist listens for what is emerging in a burning world. Names it, honors it, and builds an entire universe around it. Pursing a life of art means pursuing a life of creation—and there is no more potent or urgent of a time to dedicate yourself to this than now.

writers at the Writer’s Open Studio! I am hugging the force that is Stone Mims (whose work you WILL know) after telling him his essay made me sob 😭

I’m incredibly grateful for my time at the chateau. It re-ignited my devotion to my calling, connected me with soul-aligned friends I hope to have for life, and instilled so much inspiration in me that it feels challenging to capture.

Now that I’m back home, I’m reflecting on how I can recreate the magic I experienced at the residency. My time at the chateau felt like a long, cleansing, spiritual shower that washed away the brainwashing & conditioning modern society bombards us with—which is critical to the longevity of an artist. And while it helped tremendously to be abroad in a gorgeous setting, I firmly believe that transcendent containers can and must be created anywhere, especially in our everyday lives.

So, I present you with my guide for creating an at-home artist’s residency, including the key factors that made my time at the chateau so magical, and ideas for recreating them wherever you are.