Scorpions in the Studio - Residency Nightmare

“DO NOT DISTURB THE INSTALLATION - SCORPIONS LIVE HERE!!!”

This is part of a new series where I revisit some of my past residency adventures, to share the wide variety of places, people and creative epiphanies I’ve experienced along the way.

I had just arrived at the residency in a small village in Slovenia, and after dropping my bags, I was excited to investigate the studio space.

The dire warning sign topped a large pile of branches filling up most of the central space of the studio. This “installation” was left by a previous artist as their “contribution”, and either it was an effort to be edgy/conceptual, or most likely it was a parting shot directed at the host, which I would soon learn was probably justified.

Photo by Sippakorn Yampasikorn

Regardless of the motivation for constructing a living scorpion habitat, when I asked the said host about removing the said nest, she just shrugged her shoulders and stated that I should just work around it.

In case you’re wondering, yes, there were scorpions living there. Lots of them.

But that was just the half of it.

When people ask me about all the artist residencies I’ve been to (20+ to date), they are often curious about the disasters. Dramas make great stories it’s true, but they are rarely conducive to productive working conditions. But by far, the negatives are the exception rather than the rule. This story is that rare exception.

The advertisement for Villa Flora in Branik, Slovenia. Last I checked they are no longer in business.

The residency mentioned was called Villa Flora in Branik, Slovenia (now defunct and not to be confused with a hotel by that name in Kranjska Gora), and the pictures looked fine, the correspondence with the host (a fellow artist herself) seemed promising. I paid for the entire month (about $800) up front, which often is expected.

It was October 2009. I had previously planned a year of doing back-to-back artist residencies around the world, and this was to be my 5th destination.

Earlier that June, I had freed myself from most things - I was newly divorced, my grown son was launched in the world, and I had sold my house and car. What was left of my belongings I stored in a small locker, and being a newbie, I set out on the road with only a few residencies confirmed.

The first few residencies - in Portugal, southern Italy, Provence and central Turkey were fabulous in their own ways and remarkably different, which was my intention. I wanted to know how my work would be impacted by each new place as I made my way around the world. The more diverse the countries the better, and by October, I had already learned how to be flex in these varied environs.

The studio well before I got there, when the central space was not filled with a giant scorpion’s nest.

Slovenia was off my radar back then, which made it even more intriguing. And best of all, it was close enough to Venice that I could spend a few days at the Venice Biennale, my long time dream.

But no sooner had I arrived, I sensed trouble. I was the only artist and the host clearly couldn’t be bothered. Besides the huge scorpion nest, the windows were broken in the studio and the October chill was setting in. I had to jerry rig a work table from an old door and 2 propane tanks about 18” high, and sit on a small box which forced my knees up to my chin.

In the house, my small bedroom was on the main road that went through town, and my bed would rattle as the trucks rumbled by.

I had no access to the kitchen, not even a fridge for milk for my coffee, and the tiny local grocer had irregular hours, so finding food was often a challenge (cue survival instincts here). And this small village had few tourists so unless you spoke Slovenian, any communication was a struggle.

But worst of all, any request to my host for more useful information was met with a very snarky, “I don’t know, I’m not your mother!” Seriously.

The tipping point came when she announced that she was leaving for a week to Italy and that I would be on my own. I asked if there was an emergency contact I could call if, say, I got bit by a scorpion, and she simply said “no” and huffed off.

The quiet, unassuming Slovenian Village of Branik. ©Amy Guion Clay

By now I was just 4 days into my 1 month residency, and I couldn’t get out fast enough. But I still had several weeks to fill before my next residency, and my budget did not include staying any length of time in hotels, etc. It seemed I had few affordable options.

In my frantic search to find new accommodations, I contacted a residency in Spain that I had declined earlier because I had already committed to the current one. Might they still have a spot for me? As luck would have it, they had a cancellation, so I was welcome to fill that vacancy. I jumped on the next train out of town with not a backward glance. And fortunately, the new residency, called Fundacion Valparaiso, was entirely free including all meals, and became one of my best experiences to date!

(By the way, Fundacion Valparaiso has since changed hands and I believe they now charge a significant fee.).

So why am I sharing this?

Happy at the new residency in southern Spain with works in process. Fundacion Valparaiso, Almeria, Spain 2009.

Because in life and travel, things don’t always go as planned, and yet sometimes the new unexpected outcome can actually be even better. Travel forces us to flex the muscle of adaptability, and the more you exercise that muscle, the more confidence you develop to overcome whatever challenges might arise.

It comes down to trusting life and yourself, come what may. This is true especially in the creative process. When we trust in the marks, trust in the actions, allow the painting to take us to unexpected new places without a fixed destination, we are free to find an even greater outcome than we could have planned.

Whether it’s dealing with the unknown of a painting, an infestation of scorpions, or an unexpected global pandemic, we can develop more adaptability to find new ways of being as our world is constantly changing around us. Because, as we know, it will change.

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Lesson learned: if you are researching residencies, make sure to do a diligent search to see if there are any online reviews. Unfortunately I have not found a website that has a reliable rating system for residencies, but you can often find blogs, etc, to make sure that you are as informed as possible before making a big commitment. Again, the disasters are very few and far between!

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