Before Studio Agnew, There Was a Gym
A story about early mornings, community, and learning how spaces are built before they’re seen.
6/24/20264 min read
When I look at Studio Agnew now—at the classes, the workshops, the planning, the setup, the cleanup, the creative energy, and the people walking through the door—I can trace so much of it back to a gym in Longmeadow, Massachusetts.
My mom was a school teacher, and my dad was too for a time right out of college, and later also worked as a salesman. But one of the biggest things I watched him build was something outside both of those roles. He became the director of St. Mary’s CYO and Suburban Basketball in Longmeadow, and what started as a small local program eventually grew into something special. When he first took it on, there were around 150 kids playing. By the time he was done, that number had grown to over 1,000 players over the years.
But what mattered most wasn’t just the growth. It was how he built it.
He created a program that was fun, accessible, welcoming, and centered on learning. Kids from first through eighth grade could join, whether they had played before or had never even tried to shoot a basketball. He coached my brothers and me growing up, and he built an in-town basketball program, along with travel programs for the parish St. Mary’s CYO and Longmeadow Suburban league, where participation mattered just as much as competition.
He raised money to improve the gym, turning the court from tile to poured-in-place rubber flooring, painting the walls, and adding safety mats. He made sure players had an end-of-season banquet, and every kid walked away with something to remember it by—a medal or trophy, or a team T-shirt depending on the team.
He even created a program just for first and second graders. He split the court in half and ran two mini courts side by side, with parents packed into the gym watching their kids learn how to be part of a team, move their bodies, and have fun. After the games, parents could buy a fresh donut and a juice box for a dollar. It was simple, thoughtful, and full of care—the kind of detail that made the whole thing feel special.
And me? I was right there in the middle of it.
My brothers and I grew up in that gym. We’d be there at 5:30 a.m. before games started, helping my dad get everything ready. We’d set out the basketballs, pull out the bleachers, get the score clocks going, open the snack bar, and pop fresh popcorn. I learned how to count money and make change, though I’ll admit I wasn’t very good at it at first. My brother definitely picked it up faster than I did. My dad was the one doing everything else—coaching, organizing, problem-solving, cleaning the court, keeping the whole machine moving.
At the time, I probably didn’t realize how much I was absorbing. But I was watching. I was learning what it takes to run something for a community. I was seeing how much effort happens before anyone else arrives. I was learning that creating a good experience for people takes work behind the scenes—quiet work, repetitive work, generous work that often goes unnoticed.
As the program grew, more parents got involved. There were coaches, referees, bookkeepers, and other families who wanted to help. Soon, some of the kids of those volunteers wanted to come in early too—to shoot hoops, help out, and be part of it all. My dad welcomed them in. He made room for people to belong there.
And in a way, I carved out my own little place in that world too.
In a previous Sketchbook Stories post, I wrote about all the little art corners I created for myself growing up. The gym was one of them. In the back of the school kitchen, there was a folding table where I’d bring stamps, paper, and colored pencils and sit making things while the games were going on. Even in the middle of all that noise and motion, I found a place to create. If my memory is correct I think I even passed out my art on index cards to people as they left or arrived at the gym.
That feels important now, because I think Studio Agnew is built from both sides of that experience.
It’s built from the part of me that loves to make things—who has always needed a corner to create in, no matter where I was.
But it’s also built from the part of me that grew up watching what it takes to make a place run.
Later, when I got older, that same early-morning rhythm carried into another job. Once my brothers and I turned sixteen, we started working grounds crew at Longmeadow Country Club. My dad had caddied there when he was younger, and now we were there before sunrise helping prepare the course for the day ahead.
That job taught me something similar in a different setting: so much has to happen before people arrive to enjoy a place. Whether it’s a basketball game or a round of golf, someone has already put in the quiet work to make that experience possible. There’s something peaceful about that kind of work—the behind-the-scenes effort, the preparation, the care, the rhythm of getting a place ready.
And I think that’s one of the reasons running a studio feels so natural to me now.
Because Studio Agnew isn’t just about teaching art classes or making artwork. It’s about creating a space where people can come to learn, relax, try something new, and enjoy being creative without pressure. It’s about making room for beginners. It’s about creating experiences that feel welcoming and thoughtful. It’s about building something that serves a community.
When people walk into one of my workshops or classes, they see the creative part—and of course that matters. But there’s also so much they don’t see: the prep, the packing, the supply ordering, the lesson planning, the samples, the cleaning, the setup, the small details that help people feel comfortable enough to simply sit down and begin.
That part of the work feels deeply familiar to me.
I grew up watching someone build a community program with heart, generosity, and consistency. I grew up seeing what it meant to make something accessible, joyful, and meaningful for other people. And now, decades later, I realize I’m doing the same thing in my own way—just with paint, paper, ink, and creativity instead of basketballs and scoreboards.
Before there was Studio Agnew, there was a gym.
And before I knew I wanted a studio, I was already learning how to build one.
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107 E. Central Ave.,
Howey-in-the-Hills, Fl 34737
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Studio Agnew is located in the heart of Howey-in-the-Hills, Florida — a working creative studio for classes, workshops, and community art experiences.
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