earmstrong8, Author at Inspired By Everyday Beauty

Celebrating My First Art Exhibition Experience

Way back in March 2024, I wrote a blog about the frustration and disappointment of not getting accepted into juried exhibitions. My advice to you, but mostly to myself, was to Try, try again!; work on meta skills for the process of submitting; and never give up. I set myself the goal of getting into a show in 2024. I also promised to let you know what it felt like when I got a submission accepted.

Update: Although I missed my 2024 timeframe by a week or so, in early January, 2025, I had a submission accepted!

Right after the New Year, I submitted three pieces to The Cline House Gallery 2025 Annual Juried Show, which runs in Cornwall, Ontario from January 23- March 1, 2025. Within a week of the entry deadline, I received the wonderful news that one of the pieces “Burst of Spring” had been accepted. Finally!

After answering countless exhibition calls throughout the year, and receiving an equal number of lovely ‘thank you, but no thank you’ email messages, my determination had paid off. It felt fantastic! It felt like I had ‘arrived’.

I excitedly started texting friends and family. In my excitement, I told everyone the wrong date. I guess you could say I was a little flustered. Eventually, I settled down enough to get the correct date out to everyone and I eagerly anticipated the opening night reception. I spent the next two weeks silently (and sometimes not so silently) muttering ‘Woo Hoo!’, and making travel plans to attend Opening Night.

Of course there was a blizzard on January 23, and we were facing a slippery, blustery, two-hour drive. Not to be deterred, I pivoted and booked train tickets…there was no way I was going to miss this event!

We arrived early, accompanied by our friends Pat and Guy. Pat was not going to miss the opening night. She was the one who had first told me of the Cline House Gallery, and she was the one who had encouraged me to put in a submission for the exhibition.

Stepping into the Gallery just before 7:00 p.m. I got my first surprise–the gallery was already packed with visitors and artists!

The Cline House Gallery is a beautiful space and both the variety of media and the caliber of art was amazing: sculptures; oil, water colour, and acrylic paintings; glass works; collages; batiks; mixed media; wood carvings; metal pieces; photography; and even beautifully intricate pencil drawings. My piece “Burst of Spring”, seemed to be the only fibre art piece. I felt very fortunate to have been included.

The event was sponsored by Desjardins Financial and there were some very generous prizes. I didn’t pay much attention to the prize list, as a first timer I didn’t really think I was in the running. I was just excited to be included in an exhibition!

“Burst of Spring” was beautifully displayed on a prominent front room wall. As we wandered through the exhibition marveling over the works, my husband called me to a spot in the corridor for surprise number two. He had spotted “Morning Kaleidoscope” another one of my pieces! Then, in the next small side room, surprise number three — a sighting high up on a wall, my final piece “Teabag Peonies”.

Seeing your art displayed in public for the first time is a pretty heady experience. It is a feeling like no other. It isn’t just pride, it is something more. It validates your identity as an artist. It also creates a very deep sense of satisfaction at being able to show others your interpretation of beauty. People look at your work with appreciation. People take in and interpret the piece for their own pleasure.

It was shaping up to be one of the best evenings I have ever experienced. The reception was warm and welcoming and the atmosphere joyous. Meeting other artists and chatting with friends and supporters, both old and new, was so much fun. Time flew by.

Soon, we were asked for our attention to be given to the award announcements, which suggested to me that the evening was almost over.

The first prizes awarded were “Juror’s Choice“, each one having been chosen by a juror as their favourite piece.

Chris Chrysler’s multi-media “Phoenix Rising” was chosen by juror Frank Mulvey. Candice Nixon’s glass piece “Bubble Weave” was chosen by juror Jason deGraaf, and Helen Karanika’s abstract, “ Walk on the Beach” was chosen by juror Anne Barkley. All exquisite and unique pieces.

When it came time for the final award the “Best of Show”, to be honest, I wasn’t paying full attention. I think I was a little tired from all the excitement. I was content just to be there. I was happy to have seen some talented artists win juror’s prizes for their beautiful pieces. I was still marveling over the number of people in the packed rooms and I was already on sensory overload. I was curious though, to see which piece the jurors could possibly choose as ‘best’ from such a large number of outstanding pieces. I was still having a very difficult time deciding how to cast my own vote for the “People’s Choice Award”.

The announcement started by describing the “Best of Show” as having been a unanimous choice for the thee judges. The name of the piece was announced; “Burst of Spring”. In the short pause that followed I was thinking, “Burst of Spring?, hmm, that’s my title”. Next, I heard my name. I think it is an understatement to say that I was absolutely stunned. I turned to give my husband a puzzled and inquisitive look and he nodded and nudged me forward. In addition to being my chauffeur, frame-maker, constant supporter, and evening arm candy, he was now at the ready to verify what I had heard, and to give me a little nudge forward to accept the award.

I cannot describe the next few hours, other than to say that I was transported to dreamland. I was amazed, honoured, and elated. I listened to the jurors’ words being read to the audience, and I gratefully received the award from Desjardins representative, Stephane Leger (Insta: @desjardinscoop). Pictures were being taken, and I didn’t need to be asked to smile!

It was indeed an event that surpassed my wildest imagination of what a first exhibition would feel like.

The exhibition runs at the Cline House Gallery, in Cornwall, Ontario until March 1, 2025. If you want to get in on voting for the “Peoples Choice Award” check it out!

Many thanks to Emily MacLeod and Tracy Lynn Chisholm of the Cline House, Pat and Guy Davies, Yvon Schinck, the City of Cornwall, and Stephane Leger of Desjardins Financial.

Anti-aging

This year, I started off the Christmas season buying myself an advent calendar from the 1,000 Islands Soap Company. It is a beautiful chest of treasures and samples with one treat to be opened every day in December. For several solid reasons that I won’t go into, I decided it was best to start opening on November 1^st.

On Tuesday, November 5^th, I opened box number five—I stick to only one a day, no cheating—and found a small container of anti-aging cream. My skeptical husband raised an eyebrow, but I decided to try it out and applied it generously during my morning routine.

Late in the day on that same Tuesday, I went over to Shoppers to get my flu shot. When checking in, the woman looked over my registration form and muttered “66”. I detected a surprised tone. I asked, “66 what?, What’s 66?” . She replied, still with the tone, “Your age. You’re sixty six?”.

I confirmed, “Yes, that’s right.”

She confirmed, “So you’ll want the extra strength seniors’ dose?”

Now, I admit that everything is open to interpretation, but my interpretation was that I certainly don’t look my age, could the cream have started to work?…maybe I don’t really need the anti-aging cream?

When I got home, I proudly described the encounter to my husband, who I may have described earlier as being incapable of telling even the smallest lie. His interpretation? “Maybe you better keep it up with that cream.”

Dyeing in the street

This summer while out on my daily walks, I frequently passed by the most beautiful manhole covers in the north end of the city. The covers are relief designs of fish, a gentle reminder to any of us who look at manhole covers that our waterways are all connected. Sewer water and street runoff eventually flow down into our lakes and rivers. The implicit message is that we should be mindful of what we put down the drains and onto our surfaces as all toxins have the potential to poison our precious resource. OK, maybe not everyone picks up that message, but I sure wish they would!

In truth, what I have been thinking as I’ve passed by is what cool rust-dye prints these fish could make on a piece of cotton. Unfortunately, these two manhole covers are situated in a fairly heavy industrial park strip.

Not the best situation to set up a makeshift studio. And, I wouldn’t want to be using any process that would risk toxic substances being left on the ground or in the drain.

Nevertheless, this section of my walk was always occupied with thoughts of how I could clean the dirt off the covers; what size cotton I would need; how I would hold down the cotton; how I would keep the trucks off the cotton; whether anyone would steal my cotton if left unguarded; how I would transport my supplies; where I could unobtrusively set up a lawn chair to wait while the rust process evolved; how many hours I’d have to wait for the rust to transfer… So many logistics to conquer in the name of street art.

This weekend, with it’s usual abruptness, Labour Day was upon us. The summer is officially over. It was looking like my chance for lifting a print this year would soon be gone.

The other day, I took a different walking route and I came upon the very same manhole covers only two blocks from home, safely located in the middle of a sidewalk. Aha, I thought, if we get one more sunny day, I might just be able to do it.

I started by running a little test at home. I wanted to make sure my idea would work before venturing out into public where I might be seen playing around a sewer cover. With a vinegar-soaked piece of cotton, some rusty washers and a hot sunny piece of the driveway, the experiment worked. All I would need would be a harmless vinegar/water solution, and recyclable plastic bags.

The next day, before I could lose my nerve, I gathered up my supplies: vinegar to wet down the cotton and the cover, pre-dyed cotton with a watery indigo pattern, zip lock bags to weigh down the wet fabric for maximum contact, a black garbage bag to cover the piece and capture the sun’s heat (to speed up the process), a comfy lawn chair for the wait, a sunhat, and of course, my beloved iPhone for timing and doing crossword puzzles during the wait.

I headed off to the site just after noon. I got set up without any problems, found a nice shady spot for my chair (no need for a sunhat, could have used a sweater), and set the timer for an hour.

When the chimes rang, I took my first peek. The rusty washers I had thrown on for good measure were starting to give a nice print, but that was it. Not even the slightest discoloration from the manhole cover let alone the beginnings of a nice fish print. Hmm, it wasn’t looking good.

Determined to give it the best shot, I waited another hour and still I saw nothing but a wet piece of cotton. My phone battery was about to die, I was chilled to the bone, and I was in desperate need of a bio break. I gave up and headed home for a hot bath.

I was feeling pretty disheartened, but my husband reminded me that Thomas Edison once said that no experiment is a waste of time and that even a failed experiment could teach us something…we can for a certainty learn how a thing cannot be done. After puzzling for a while on why it was unsuccessful, I verified with a quick google search what I suspected: manhole covers are treated to resist rusting (duh).

The problem was that by this time I was fully committed to that fish print and I wasn’t ready to give up. So, during my wakeful hours in the night, I made a new plan. I decided to use the cover as a relief plate, similar to doing a charcoal rubbing. To make the print permanent, I could use my brayer and thickened, water-based ink to transfer the pattern onto the cotton.

This morning, I packed up a new bucket of supplies, added a sweater, and headed back to the site. I tried a test piece of cotton. It worked!

I was on a roll. Why print one fish when you can print a whole school of fish! Within about 45 minutes I had printed and printed and printed, blues, golds, coppers…

Success! My original idea for fish printed on a piece of indigo pole-dyed cotton turned out just as I had hoped. As a side bonus, I have a long piece which was meant to be my test scrap that I also love. Two for the price of one! Next up, the fun of sewing them into something.

Inks, pigments and playing in the woods

This year, to celebrate the summer solstice, I participated in a day-long workshop foraging in the woods and then using the bounty we collected to to make inks and pigments. We also tried our hand at making fresh flower prints, and we learned how to make artists’ charcoal from willow branches. It was a fantastic day and lucky for you, I got lots of pictures!

We started off on a morning hike through the woods with very dark clouds looming. Everyone had rain gear and boots and a healthy sense of adventure, so the on and off rain that hit didn’t dampen the adventure.

The hike began with some lessons on foraging responsibly: do no damage, do not take anything that appears to be unique or in short supply, and do not take more than you need. With this in mind, most of our walk was spent observing and in my case, taking pictures. It was only on the way back that we collected a few samples of mud, rocks, flowers, leaves and bark.

It is still pretty early in the season and there were lots of wild flowers to be seen along the way. For my little pouch of keepers I picked two wild columbine, a couple of purple cow’s vetch and two bunch berries. We also saw lots of clover and daisies and other common field flowers, but I chose primarily for colour.

One bonus to all the rainy days we’ve had was that mushrooms were popping up everywhere. I do not know how to identify mushrooms, but I marveled over the variety of colours and shapes. They are easily overlooked while you are concentrating on the the trail, and trying not slip on roots and mud, but if you keep your eyes open you will spot them.

I have always loved lichen and it is abundant in our area. On this trip, we saw three different categories of lichen. Covering most of the exposed granite we saw lots of ‘crustose’ lichen, that’s easy to remember because it looks like a crust. It is so common that we often don’t even notice it. On a damp tree, we spotted some ‘foliose’ lichen patches, which looks a little leafy. To my delight, on an old decaying log, I saw some of my favorite ‘fruticose’ lichen. It has has little upside down funnels that look like fruit cups. Sometimes, all kinds of lichen crowd together and compete with moss for space. You can use lichen for creating natural dyes, but unlike mushrooms lichen takes an incredibly long time to grow so we decided to let it be for now.

*Lunch was well underway when we returned*

Before we knew it, the morning was gone and our tummies were rumbling, so we headed back to the lodge to dry off, fuel up with a delicious lunch and get down to creating. ¹

Laura, our instructor had prepared lots of different work stations so that everyone could spread out to different activities and play at their own pace. She had a stock of pre-made inks and pigments, paper, brushes, hammers, mortars and pestles, soap, willow branches, eye droppers, pH shifting agents, and lots of glass vials and jars. Let the science begin!!

We had decided as a group to do two different ink dyes, one with birch bark and one with sumac leaves. We also had some buckthorn berries and some avocado pits and skins from Laura’s kitchen. Most natural dyes will shift colour if you alter their pH or add iron or copper salts. A separate work station had been set up so we could experiment.

I guess now would be a good time to mention the difference between ‘ink’ and ‘pigment’. Ink is made by boiling down plant matter to leech out the colour making a concentrated, water based ink. Think of boiling water with tea leaves.

Pigment on the other hand, is non-soluble and is made from pounding, or grinding various types of rock or clay. Once ground down to as fine a powder as possible, the pigment can be added to a substrate to create a paint or a pastel. Mica, can be ground into a pigment which will add sparkle and shine to your paints, inks or pastels.

In our case, we used a bit of honey and soap bar shavings to make a playdough type mixture, then rolled it into drawing pastels. We had gathered some interesting rocks and clay, and, some of us even came back with a few bits of mica.

Out near the open fire, Luke filled a tin can with slim willow branches. He added a tight lid in which he had punched air holes. Then, he tossed the sealed tin into the fire. Soon, we had a tin of artists’ charcoal!

As if we weren’t having enough fun already, there was one more activity to try. We had each gathered a few wild flowers and Laura had prepared pieces of water colour paper for us. We made a ‘flower sandwich’ with our blossoms and the two pieces of paper. Then we gently hammered until the colour of the flowers created a two-for one print.

The end of the day came very quickly! For me it was a perfect day of fresh air, good food, good company and creativity.

I came home with a nice selection of natural inks to try out on some watercolour painting. I also made a blue-green pastel stick and chose some willow charcoal sticks for some sketching.

Of course, the day got me thinking of how to use these dyes and pigments on fabrics. When I got home I ordered a book Make Ink A Forager’s Guide to Natural Inkmaking, by Jason Logan, so I could keep on learning. Who knows what will come next!

*My selection of natural dyes for watercolour painting*

The venue for this workshop was Wintergreen Studios Wintergreen Studios an off-grid wilderness facility. Check it out! ↩︎

Golf Upset

I know I usually post about everyday beauty, but this adventure can’t go untold.

I’m back to golf this summer. After having taken a couple of seasons off, I decided to give it another go and I’ve joined a foursome in a local ladies’ league. It is a small, friendly group and we four have all agreed that we are just out for fun, nothing competitive.

Competitiveness and ambition aren’t the same thing are they? I think there is a possibility that we each have a streak of ambition. Of course, I can only really speak for myself.

Last week, I had a pretty good game, so this week it was only natural that I would want to improve, right? Plus, this week the ‘game of the week’ was best score on a secret hole. How fun! That would take the pressure off trying to perform on any particular hole. In my secret analytic mind, I figured the chosen hole must be number five.

Five is the longest and trickiest hole. A par 5, it starts off high, has bit of a dog leg, is flanked on the left side by sand traps and on the right by a very long marsh. Easy enough though, with a plan. Keep it centered, drive to the corner of the leg, then straight up the fairway to the green. Don’t even think of the water or the sand.

My drive went a little left, but otherwise pretty much as planned. Donna was in trouble though. Her ball had hit the very edge of the right-hand marsh, hard to tell at a distance if it was just in or just out of the water. She was safely off to the side searching in the reeds, so I decided to take my second shot. Somehow, and I’m not sure exactly how, my ball flew right, skimmed her leg, and landed at about the same spot as hers, but definitely in the water.

I went over, to apologize for the close call, and to help look for the balls. As I was leaning into the soggy edge of the wetland, I saw movement in my periphery. It was one of those eerie moments when time both slows down and speeds up. The movement was a cart slowly rolling toward us. The movement picked up speed. By the time I realized that the bag was purple, and mine, it was hitting a ridge at the edge of the marsh. As Newton’s law of movement will have it, even though the wheels had come to a stop, the weight of the clubs continued, ass-over-tea-kettle as my mother would have said, and the whole works catapulted forward landing upside down in what I then determined by the odor of close proximity, was more of a swamp.

OMG! How could that have just happened? I was in shock, and I took a minute to pick out the two balls I had spotted in the shallows. Terri, the first to snap back to reality yelled, “never mind the balls, your clubs are sinking!” Yes, the bottom of the golf bag was just above the surface, detached from the cart, which was also completely upside down. They had come unfastened in the crash. Both were sinking fast. I leaned helplessly toward them, but they were beyond my reach. “Wait!”, yelled Donna, “don’t go in! Someone, give me a pole!” Pole, nine iron, whatever, by thinking quickly, she was able to hook the strap of the bag and pull it toward us. As soon as it was close enough, I eased it out, carefully keeping it prone so I wouldn’t dump its contents aka, my clubs! With the bag, and what looked like most of the clubs back on dry land, my attention turned to the cart which by now was almost fully submerged. Hmm, how deep could this be?? As I eased into ankle-depth muck and grabbed the edge, trying to pull it to safety, I saw first my water bottle, then my visor, then a purple club handle bob to the surface.

My efforts oscillated back and forth between the floating objects and the sinking cart, but all were just beyond my reach. Donna, still on the scene, and thinking more clearly said, “here, let me hold on to you”. Yes Donna, who is approximately 10 inches shorter, and about 100 lbs smaller than me, was holding on very securely to my skirt. Just to be clear, at this point, if I went in, we were definitely both going in. That is teamwork though, and we did it. All bobbing paraphernalia and the cart were successfully pulled on shore.

Meanwhile, Terri had been on deck to hand over poles as needed, but Jackie had been rendered helpless with laughter.

I reloaded my bag on the cart, noted that yes, the brake had been on, verified that our snacks were safe in their waterproof pouch and fished my phone out of its not-so waterproof pocket.

We let the next team play through while we collected ourselves.

It was only later that I realized that while all the distraction was underway, a deer fly had slipped up my shorts and bitten the cheek of my butt—but that is a whole other story.

One thing is certain. At least I’m pretty sure. I am not going to have the lowest score on hole five.

PS Sorry, there is no video footage for verification

Year of the Beaver

By now you know that I am Inspired by Everyday Beauty. Each summer, there seems to be one animal that takes first place for number of sightings on my trail walks, cycling adventures and kayak outings.

In previous years, we have had the ‘year of the rabbit’ when our property was inundated with small and friendly bunnies;

‘the year of the turtle’ when every kayak ride was sure to happen upon turtles basking in the sunshine;

and ‘the year of the snake’ when I spotted water snakes from the dock, garter snakes in the grass, brown snakes on the trails, black snakes on the shores and even a green snake on the trail.

It looks like this year is shaping up to be the year of the beaver. Beavers are usually very shy and illusive creatures. We often see signs of their visits, pointed stumps left on the shoreline and in the swampy areas or piles of limbs built up into dams, but we rarely see the actual beaver.

About seven or eight years ago, we had one right on our lakeshore, and I was able to get lots of good closeup pictures as he methodically munched through our small shrubs and saplings. This was a onetime event though and I hadn’t seen one since.

Admittedly, I have been keeping an eye out this year for a beaver sighting, hoping to get some good pictures for a friend. Maybe I’m channeling mother nature. Or, maybe I am just seeing more of what I am looking for.

Last Friday, we went for a beautiful cycle ride along the local trail. We stopped for a rest at a waterfall and I spotted two abandoned beaver dams at the base of the stream. These dams had been partially removed, likely by the village authorities as they were no doubt causing flooding in the park.

As I was kneeling to get a ground level picture of the dam, something big swooped above my head. I lifted my camera lens and started shooting without even focusing and got a beautiful picture of a great blue heron in flight. I had been so intent on the beaver dam, I completely overlooked a heron on the stream bank!

Look closely or you’ll miss the heron in flight (centre trees)

On Sunday, what was forecast as a sunny afternoon turned out to be cool and overcast, with a bit of wind kicking up some waves. I opted for a long walk rather than a kayak tour of the lake.

While doing the half-way turn around at the municipal park, a woman sitting by the lake called out to me, “Do you know much about snakes?” “Well, not really, but if it was black and in the water, it was likely a water snake!” I was lured in for a look and we both got out our phones and started googling, red, water, snake, Ontario….no images matched what she had seen. We were focusing on our phones, and as an aside, she said, “…I just saw the weirdest thing, there were bubbles in the water and then, I heard funny noises. Could it have been beavers?” I was doubtful. Mid-day, parkland, not much in the way of surrounding saplings or streams.

Then I heard it. A funny mewling sound, kind of like a cross between kittens and puppies crying, and it was coming from the reeds.

*Two heads in the water, and adult beaver and its kit*

I inched closer and closer to the sound and spotted something dark, with little hand-like paws, munching away on the grasses. It was in fact two beavers! One larger, likely the mother and one very young kit. They were well hidden and seemed not to notice me. They seemed to be communicating with both burbling out their little chorus and mother was prodding the young one to swim out of the reeds.

*Admittedly, this looks a little like Loch Ness, but I assure you it is an adult beaver!*

I wasn’t able to get a clear photo so I decided to catch the action with video.

Watch as the adult beaver guides its kit to safely hide under the dock

The mother started nudging and corralling the little one to swim to toward the floating dock. Every time the baby fell behind a bit, she turned to scoop it along. They disappeared under the dock and then the adult came back out and returned to the reeds. As it swam, I could make out its square, blunt head, and I could see its hind legs doing a rapid flutter kick. When it reached the shore, I realized there was a second little one that I hadn’t seen. The routine was repeated as this one was also marshaled to safety.

By now we observers had been joined by another woman and her young granddaughter and it was likely our presence that was spurring the beaver to move her kits to a more secluded safety spot. I decided to back off and continue my walk, content that I had just witnessed a rare and thrilling site.