inspired by everyday beauty Archives - Inspired By Everyday Beauty

Where do I find the time?

It feels like I haven’t accomplished much art making this summer, but the months have filled with lots of adventures, travelling, exploring and picture taking. Art is always on my mind, so while I was enjoying the great outdoors all of my senses, as well as my camera, were recording sights, sounds and scents. I was storing up the raw material of ideas for future creations. I was filling my reference bank to tap into all fall and winter.

The mystery at this point is what will I create? Where will I start? As usual, I have more ideas and plans than I will ever have time for, but somehow I will just dive in and see what emerges.

Luckily, I have a few specifics to guide me.

*Frosted Window Pane in production* 12″x12″

I am just finishing up some pieces that have been accepted into the Cline House Gallery Merry Mini Exhibition, which opens in Cornwall, ON on November 6. Here is a sneak peek at a “Frosted Window Pane”, one in a 12″ x12″ series.

I am still working on my second sewer fish piece–it’s definitely going to be the longest piece I have ever made. But guess what… all summer I have been seeing new manhole covers and gelling up a new montage in my mind!

The fall will also bring work for two upcoming challenges. The first is for my Studio Art Quilt Association (SAQA) local “Land Between Group” which has decided to start a new challenge based on the theme of Art Connections. This is a pretty broad category and I’m not sure yet where my thoughts will focus.

The second challenge will be interesting. Our Kingston Fibre Artists group has decided to pair up this year for our annual challenge. Artists and their partners will work together to create two 10″ x 10″ pieces using only black and white. One partner will create mainly in white with accents of black and the other vice versa. I have never worked in only black and white, and I will just be getting to know my partner and her art. I expect it will be an exciting challenge and a great learning opportunity.

This summer, I’ve been dabbling in natural dyeing with soy milk, avocado, and golden rod. I’ve been adding to my stash of hand dyed fabrics. On the weekend of Sept. 20, I am heading up to Wintergreen Studios to participate in a day-long workshop on “Found Colour and Natural Dyeing” to add to my repertoire. Who knows what that will lead to, but it will be lots of fun!

As a member of Kingston Fibre Artists I will be joining in a local exhibition to held at the Studios of artist Michelle Reid, 36 Hatter St., Kingston, ON on October 4 & 5, 2025.

Did I mention my balloon work? Ha ha, this is a fun one. A few years ago for a significant birthday, a friend gave me two huge shiny balloons–of course even once they had shriveled and deflated I couldn’t bear to throw them out. Stashed them away, and then early this summer got inspired to create a huge, shiny art piece exploding with colour. Still in progress, but it will be a piece that is pure fun when it’s finished.

Oh yes, and then there is my hankering to do some more work with wool. I have started collecting old 100% wool blankets which no one seems to want any more (still accepting them if you want to toss any my way!). I love the texture of woven wool, and the smooth buttery sensation as it moves beneath the needle. I also have a few old sweaters, well past their best date, some moth eaten some worn through with love. I think I’ll work on matting and felting them to see what I get. Then, I hope to put all of that together into some sort of piece.

I only have one question really. How is it that anyone says they get bored in retirement?? My challenge: finding enough time for all the projects brewing in my mind!

Work with what you have

Creating Wilderness Reflection

What happens when you want wool fabric and can’t find any? Well, in my case, I decided to make it!

I had an idea for an art quilt created in wool, and I started searching. I couldn’t find any new fabric even close to 100% wool. I soon realized that even if I did find it, the price would be way beyond my budget. I considered recycling old woolen blankets and started keeping my eye open. Word went out to family and friends (still collecting) and I started to search auctions, yard sales and community garage sales. I came up with a few good blankets that I’m sure will work for some future project (read–that have now been added to my stash), but none of them were in the right colour palette.

An idea was hatched.

I have lots of wool roving, no surprise there. So, I decided to build my design and then wet felt it into a piece. One small snag that I forgot to mention, it needed to be bigger than anything I had ever wet felted before. Bigger in fact than my dining room table. I was committed to the idea though, so I forged on.

I was inspired by a photo I took while kayaking on Varty Lake. It showed a perfect reflection of cedars and scrub pine in the little bay that we often explore. High in a tree, there is an osprey nest that we have watched over the years. Often we see tiny chicks keeping their hunting parents busy.

I started to build the piece, layering wool roving to create the shoreline trees, overcast sky, clouded sun and the reflections. This stage took many days, maybe weeks. As it grew, I took lots of photos to check the overall look from a distance. By the time I was finished, the piece was about two inches thick, and I was praying that a gust of wind wouldn’t blow through the house!

As usual, with each step of a project I froze for a minute thinking that one step further could ruin everything. But again as usual, I took a deep breath and continued. The next step was to cover the piece with voile and wet it down with warm soapy water. This step flattens the wool to a very thin layer and it can now be gently massaged by hand until the roving starts to tangle enough to stay in place.

This massaging stage is my favourite. It is very therapeutic, rubbing and massaging the wet soapy mess with bare hands, swirling and circling, something akin to finger painting, but very clean! Even on a small piece this step can take a while. With this huge piece I was in for a good few hours of therapy.

Eventually, the wool piece magically starts to separate from the top cover and the voile can be gently removed.

The piece itself is very wet and soapy, and still quite fragile. A sheet of plastic bubble wrap is now placed over the top. Next comes the felting.

The process of felting the wool means agitating it until all of the fibres start to shrink and mat together. The fastest you have ever seen this process happen is when you’ve accidently put a woolen sweater or blanket into the washing machine—ta da—that’s the quick route to felt!

In art, we are trying for a slower, more controlled process. The usual method is to roll the piece up in bubble wrap or bamboo placemats to give a rough surface, but with this piece I used two steps.

Recently, while rummaging in a thrift shop, I found an interesting, notched rolling pin. This proved to be the perfect tool to roll the piece while it was still on the table. I think keeping it flat helped to keep the trees and details in place while they were felting.

Then, I rolled the piece, bubble wrap and all, onto a pool noodle and started rolling, rolling, rolling. I rolled in all four directions, first with my hands, and then, as my wrists were giving out, with my arms. Yes, it was a bit of a full body workout.

The felting takes a long time. It is only done when it is done. I kept unwrapping, straightening out, and rewrapping between the directional changes to feel the fabric that was forming. When its done the whole piece has shrunken and tightened up into a dense felt.

*Felting is finished, but it’s still very soapy*

Not done yet though! The piece is still full of soap and if it isn’t thoroughly rinsed the soap will eventually degrade the fibres. Rinse, rinse, rinse. This whole process is really about repetition, I think that’s why it is so meditative.

Once all soap is out it is time to get rough. This last stage is called ‘fulling’ and it means scrunching up the piece and throwing it, onto the table. Throw, throw, throw. You are literally shocking the fibres into tightening up even more.

Finally, its time to rest—both the maker and the felted piece. I laid it out to air dry over night.

Now I had my wool piece and it was time to sew. I placed it on top of a piece of wool batting and hand basted the two layers together.

I used free motion machine stitching to work in the detail of the trees, bushes, sky and water; added a few other details with hand stitching; and finally added the osprey and its nest of chicks.

How long did it take? I’m not sure…I forgot to set the timer.

Wilderness Reflection is currently showing in Proof of Life: 2025 Alumni Juried Exhibition, Marianne van Silfhout Gallery, St. Lawrence College, Brockville Campus. June 23-August 1, 2025.

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

Try, try again!

On an early summer morning I sit on the dock watching. The sun rises over the distant woods and their reflection lights up the calm and quiet lake. Onshore, the wind begins to stir, and the waves become active, signaling it is time to start a new day.

One of my goals for 2024 is to have a piece of work accepted into a juried exhibition. It’s a great learning experience that drives home the old adage ‘If at first you don’t succeed….’

Preparing to enter a call isn’t as fun as creating art, but if you want to get your work seen and enjoyed by others there are skills to be mastered. I give myself regular pep talks and remind myself that if I want to get into an exhibition I have to submit entries!

I dipped my toe into the juried exhibition waters by responding to a couple of calls for Virtual Exhibitions–shows that exhibit worldwide through virtual galleries. These calls are a little less daunting as they usually don’t have specific size restrictions, and they don’t require shipping an accepted piece to the exhibit site.

Those early submissions gave me my first bitter taste of rejection, but they also gave me the courage to enter other exhibits. I have now moved forward to calls for on-site exhibits at various local and international venues.

There is no denying how disheartening it is when a piece is not accepted for an exhibition. It is never easy to get a rejection, but there are always lessons to be learned. It helps to keep focused on the positive. I think back to the enjoyment of creating the piece and I add some questions to my pep talk: Did I enjoy making the piece? Do I like the piece? Did I learn anything along the way? Could I make a better submission next time? As long as all of those answers come back yes, then I will keep on trying!

Someone said, “if you keep doing what you have always done, you will keep getting the same result”...or something along those lines. So, I’ve been digging for answers on how to improve my chance of success in the exhibition world. While continuing to develop and improve my creative work, I will also need to learn as much as I can about the submission process and improve those skills.

When debriefing with friends and seeking counsel from fellow artists and mentors, I am told repeatedly that rejection may have little to do with the quality or beauty of the actual piece. Not only do all of the technical components of the submission matter, there is also an element of luck! There are tales of pieces being rejected by several exhibitions then going on to win prizes. Reportedly, even well established artists still suffer rejection from time to time. The message seems to be unanimous: don’t give up, keep up the determination, and keep on trying!

Here are some of the tips I have gleaned so far.

Theme: Understand it

Every call for exhibition has a theme. Although themes typically can have a wide interpretation, they are not vague. Make sure you understand the exact definition of the words given as the theme — they weren’t chosen lightly. Give the theme a lot of thought, make sure you understand it and that you consider it in the current context.

When I first started to think about the themes, I thought I had to create a piece to fit the theme and I struggled. Through experience, I know that when I try to create a piece to ‘fit’ a specific call or request, I overthink things and inevitably the piece starts to look forced.

What seems to work better for me is first creating a piece of work and then thinking about how it might fit into a theme.

Artist’s Statement: Pin it to the theme

My art tends to fall somewhere between realism and abstract — closer to realism. Most often pieces are created as interpretations of things I have found in natural settings. I am after all ‘Inspired by Everyday Beauty’, What perplexed me was seeing exhibited pieces that were definitely very abstract fitting into exhibit themes.

The key seems to be the artist’s interpretation. In an exhibit, or submission to a call, the artist’s only shot at explaining their piece is through the artist’s statement. The statement is the opportunity to pin the piece to the theme.

I need to master the art of writing about my art. The required artist’s statement usually allows only 100-200 words to describe the piece. It is important to use these precious words not only to describe the art, but to engage the viewer, and that may best be done by evoking some emotion. What moved you to create the piece? How does the piece depict your intension?

There are lots of resources to be found on google, but also start to read and pay attention to artist statements you see in shows and in virtual galleries. Take note of style, voice and vocabulary.

A great resource I’ve found is Art-Write: The Writing Guide for Visual Artists, by Vicki Krohn Ambrose.

Photos: Aim for perfection

Most calls for exhibits require electronic applications accompanied by one or two photos of the work. Consider that the photos you submit are your only chance to make a visual impression on the curators. Make sure your photos are top quality to give your piece its best chance. Your submission will be one of hundreds they receive. You don’t want your piece discarded in the first sort because of a poor quality photo! The call will give specific requirements for the quality of the photos, but also make sure that they are focused, evenly cropped and squared up, and that the lighting has kept the colours true to life. Keep in mind that in many cases, if successful, your photo will be used for promotion, print or even display (in the case of virtual exhibits).

Curators: Get to know them

Often, curators choose only 30 to 40 pieces from a very large pool of submissions. The curators are putting together a comprehensive show and the chosen pieces must gel visually, conceptually, and spatially. This is where there is an element of luck. You have no real idea what the overall picture of the exhibit will look like. Let’s face it, the curators themselves may not know until they see the pieces they receive. You can up the odds on your luck by doing a little research. Check out the curators: take a look at their past shows; take a look at their work to get a sense of their style; consider the venue; and consider the audience. I am not saying to do this and then cater your work to the curator, but the more you know about the curator, the more you will understand the suitability of your piece for this particular show, at this particular time.

I cannot yet tell you what it feels like when a submission is accepted, but I’m going to keep on trying and you can be sure I will let you know as soon as it happens!

This blog was written in light of many enriching conversations with my mentor Irene Koroluk (irenekoroluk.com). I am grateful for her guidance.

Dye With Love

As you know, last summer I became captivated with the Magic of eco dying. At Summer camp I had lots of fun playing around with old cotton fabric and different leaves and flowers that I had gathered on my walks. You also know that I like Creating with purpose.

I decided the next step was to try printing on paper.

I had a few dry runs. Or, I should say wet runs. My first attempts to press leaves between rust-water soaked papers resulted in a bit of a soggy blur. I’ll spare you pictures of that mess!

Through practice, I discovered a few tricks:

use a good quality paper–I used cold press water colour paper
wet the leaves rather than the paper
separate all the leaf layers with parchment paper to avoid bleed through
stack the papers and press them very tightly between two ceramic tiles
steam (i.e. not immersed in water) for 90 minutes
cool completely before unwrapping to peek at the creations

I used six 8″ x 10″ pieces of paper folded in half with leaves in between every layer and every layer separated with parchment paper.

If you are following the math, that means I ended up being able to make a three-section journal, each section with two nested sheets. Folding the sheets in the middle means each section has 8 printed sides and the whole journal is 24 pages.

Some of the parchment papers were too beautiful to discard. I added a few into the journal for secret note space and textural variety.

The original intention was for words to be added free form throughout the journal, but I knew that it might be difficult to dive in and start to write on the flora imprinted pages. I added some lines for encouragement and to give sections for guiding script. I added dyed lined paper, and also stitched in some black lines. I remembered how as a child I had loved running our old Singer treadle machine with no thread over paper pretending to sew. This seemed like a fun idea to add texture and the suggestion of lines.

Next of course, I had to figure out how to bind the whole thing together. A a quick google search lead to directions on how to bind a book with waxed thread.

*Three sections bound with waxed thread*

After binding, there were a few long ends on my threads, which once braided were too nice to cut, so I added some wild turkey feathers, foraged on a summer walk, to serve a book marks.

My dear friend Martha in her retirement is focusing on a love of the written word and expressing herself through poetry. What better reason to create a special journal in which she can scribe beautiful words. This journal was definitely a project of dyeing with love.

*The final poetry journal dyed with love*

A Room of My Own

It was many years ago that I heard of Virginia Woolfe’s Room of One’s Own, but I recall that even then, when I had neither the funds nor the room to be creative, I thought it a brilliant idea.

I feel as though finally, I have arrived.

After a full renovation of our house, a process that spanned over ten years as my husband lovingly made our house a home, the final piece was an upstairs atelier for me!

As you know, since retirement I have plunged into creative pursuits of all kinds and creativity needs space! Not just for an afternoon, but sometimes for more lengthy periods as projects evolve and “mijote” as the French say. It may be possible that my husband tired of my work areas spreading throughout the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, the basement, and occasionally the bedroom. But, whatever the impetus he came up with the great idea to build me a room of my own–an atelier where I could have all my bits and pieces at hand, and keep all my bits and pieces somewhat contained!

I love it! Once and for all I have almost all my ‘stuff’ together in a workable space. There is room for a big design board to post and plan works in progress; my new sewing machine fits into my old 1913 Singer machine table; a workbench gives space for drawing and printing and painting; an in-wall ironing board allows for quick pressing and doubles as an alternate work surface; lots of shelves house books and papers and supplies; and a big reclaimed glass cabinet stores a good chunk of my fabric stash.

The laminate floor works well for spotting rogue pins and quick sweeps, with a couple of sheepskin rugs for cozier footing when needed. The roman blinds can be pulled right up for maximum light. The sliding pocket door closes off the nearby washroom (read water supply), and opens up for more light and heat when needed.

The light is optimal: two big north east windows providing natural light are supplemented with a bar LED light for drearier days and night work, and a desk lamp for closer hand work.

The space is small, but efficient (8′ x12′) and everything is within reach. I’ve been spending winter days holed up in my atelier happily working away on projects, listening to CBC radio and gazing out at the neighbourhood.

That my friends, is the explanation for not having posted a blog in a while…I’ve been too busy playing and creating in the room that is my own.