I first discovered Studio Break a couple years back, when I’d returned to college for art and was spending long weekend hours in the studio drawing still lives with charcoal. It had a large backlog of episodes to fill that time, and it featured artists talking about art…what could be better when you’re having to determine how to draw a flat piece of paper in perspective?
The best thing about this podcast is that host David Linneweh does not come to the mic with an agenda. He is not flogging a related magazine and video course, encouraging boomers with too much disposable income to experience “the new golf.” He is not pushing a style of art or privileging the atelier life over the academic. His guests don’t all just happen to give lessons via the same website. He is not trying to convince you to buy into crypto.
What Mr. Linneweh does each episode is to hold a conversation with a working artist, exploring their interests, ideas and techniques, then relating them to the art they are producing now. It is refreshingly unpretentious and animated conversation, honest conversation, the kind of talk that illuminates so much because the connections made are so organic.
As said, there is no privileging of style here. Studio Break doesn’t concentrate just on abstract artists, or figurative artists, or illustrators, or sculptors…the show has hosted people from all these modes of practice and more. An interview with a photorealistic painter might be followed by someone who makes abstract sculpture from scrapped paper plates they find in a particular alley every morning. The variety of perspectives is refreshing and always gives me fuel for thought about my own practice.
To top it off, Mr Linneweh also sponsors annual competitions for student and professional artists, and features the winners and finalists in their own episodes. Especially for giving students a venue to express their ideas, the podcast deserves high praise.
Oh, and the host is also in a way cool ‘90s indie-sounding band, which just warms the nostalgic cockles of my heart.
Some of the early episodes are a bit rough around the edges, but worth hearing for the voices and to chart the growth of the host’s interview chops over time. In this way, the podcast is a neat metaphor for consistent studio practice. I’ve rambled way too long, and gushed way too much.
So: Subscribe. Listen. You won’t regret it.
