As I draw towards the end of my MA (I have six months left but it feels as if the end is looming), this week I have been sitting and looking at my studio space which I have created over the last two years. It started off as blank white walls, and now it is a jumble of stuff, words, images, things, ideas and thoughts (just like my mind). A lot of the time over that period in my life I feel as if I have mostly been sitting on my chair, on my laptop tap-tapping away at random things, expressing odd thoughts, adding bits and pieces to my thesis or writing this blog. Yet, I must have been creating work at some point as my studio space (my little corner on the sixth floor of the art building) is packed with piles of work, printed images, bits of paper, words, books, coffee cups, stacks and things. There sits two years worth of stuff, two years worth of thinking, of playing, of making and of writing. It is all there. Can I hand in my studio as my final piece? I should be able to. If only it were that easy.