The Studio Barn at Bedlam Farm is a sacred space for me. It was built in the 1970’s by Ralph Keyes, the farmer who owned the farm then, and he used it as an appliance repair shop. It is not as old or gracious as the other Bedlam Farm barns, but it does have heat and running water. It is a sacred space to me, one of the most important buildings in my life, because it brought Maria and I together.

When I met Maria, she was working on restoring old buildings and farms. She told me she was an artist, and she had not done her art in some years. I could see how unhappy she was about that. She said she had no good place to work, as she would live in the old houses while restoring them, and then move on to other properties. I had this idea of Bedlam Farm being a creative place, a center for artists and writers, it was a vague idea. I offered Maria the use of the Studio Barn in exchange for weekend care of the animals – I had a lot of animals then, and was struggling to keep  up, and I had no good use for the barn.

To my surprise, she agreed and our friendship was born in the Studio Barn.  She would come twice a day on Saturdays and Sundays, and for a long time, I never saw her, then I would offer her some tea and she would sometimes accept. She was so quiet then, so shy, she did not  have a voice, and I was falling apart then, I was lonely, going to pieces. We always saw through the craziness in one another, we both saw the person the other really wanted and needed to be.

For a long time, she only came in the night in the Studio Barn, worked until dawn, and I heard her come and go, but never saw here. She never visited the farmhouse or spoke with me. I respected that.  I knew she was shy and private, and I didn’t want to intrude. Then, both of us were divorced. I started bringing chocolates and bread and cheese, and leaving them there for her. Like a shy cat, she would eat them in the night and I would collect the plates in the morning.

She spent more time in the daytime and I visited her more often. We spent so many wonderful nights in the Studio Barn, talking about writing, art life, encouraging one another, healing each other from the awful trauma of divorce. We always make one another smile, even when neither of us was smiling much. We joked about our panic attacks, traded notes and tricks for surviving them. We had them daily. She was almost solely responsible for my photography, every photo I ever took was a love letter to her.

Neither of us ever imagined being together then, but our friendship deepened in that barn, and our love grew and was nourished there. In the winter, we would sit by a roaring wood stove and drink hot chocolate and I would cheer her potholders and quilts and she would encourage my photography and help me see a better life. It will be better, we told one another, there is love, and we can find it. I did not know it was right there in that little Studio Barn.

I can never look at that building without choking up, feeling my heart swell. There, Maria’s artistry took hold and flowered and moved over to the Pig Barn, where she held her first art shows, and drew thousands of people. Amazing an odd little structure like that, not really a barn at all, not graceful or expensive to build, yet to me as magnificent and luminous to me as the Taj Mahal. I owe it so much, I will make sure it’s next owner loves it too.