Aaron Copland's Table

Ah, the things you may not know about those you live with. Little did I know that Chris has been harboring a secret love.

I have never been to Copland House, the charming composer's retreat once home to Aaron Copland himself, but I imagine the approach to the cottage feels serene and significant. Once inside, we face that which Christopher has long lusted after:

Aaron Copland's table.

A farmer made the wooden desk for Copland in the 1950s, and it still serves as a sturdy and flexible workspace for those who compose at the house. You can see it in the foreground in one of the images here. It is basically a large, un-fussy plank of wood.

While I was away in D.C. last week, Chris decided to bring this obsession into our house (gasp!). His attempt to re-create the Copland table without purchasing a new desk looks something like this:

This large, un-fussy plank of wood now residing in our study allows Chris to sprawl out as he does his writing. It also allows him to work right in front of the window, which, to this humble cube dweller, is as good as it gets. As silly as it is, I sort of love it. One day, I will get him the huge, heavy table of his dreams.

What fascinates me most about the Copland table is the idea of an historic workspace. Does the weight of past work done at that desk always inspire artists, or does it sometimes just turn up the pressure?

Whether it's Jane Austen's dainty little work table or O. Henry's cozy booth at Pete's Tavern, a workspace reflects its occupant. Some folks seem to need clutter and spontaneity to inspire them, while others thrive in an orderly environment. 

Most workspaces live and breathe in their own rights. There are dozens of magazines and hundreds of websites devoted to creating the perfect workspace. Have you created yours? Mine is still evolving, but I'm looking forward to seeing the first work Chris creates at his new table.

[edit: If you love peeking into people's houses like me, this book features photos of famous writers' workspaces.]