Summer news/letters

Cut a Path Through the Weeds and Call It a Garden

It’s high summer, and the corn in the fields around us is towering at seven feet, it waves pinkish tassels like mad which are actually the male part of the plant releasing pollen to be caught by the silky ears of the corn, it’s female counterpoint. (Plant sex! he he) It’s a beautiful reminder that this season, like all things, will soon pass. This summer has been one of the busiest yet—we’ve been preparing three public art projects involving stone carving, ceramics, and cement.

When my kids were younger, I never tried for studio time in the summer. It was too hard to go back and forth from studio to momming. We’d adventure around Ontario—swimming, hiking, and collecting memories. At most, I’d keep a sketchbook for ideas and observations, storing inspiration for a time when the studio would call again. Now, my eldest is 21 and my youngest 12 and living busy lives- giving me the time and space to get to work. It’s been a true joy to get into some flow—working (and playing!) on projects that excite and challenge. 

The work is physical—bucket scrubbing, floor washing, stone grinding—and I love it that way. I’m grateful for a body that enjoys the effort, and for a childhood that taught me the value of hard work.

Our “lawn” is wild with chicory, and between kiln firings and carving sessions, I’ve been digging up the roots—determined to try out making chicory coffee. The garden that runs the length of our studio is a mix of cherished plants I know well and volunteer plants that aren’t assholes, teaching me the quiet art of cultivating a life that is nourishing and sustainable. (life mantra- no assholes!) I don’t plant a big veg garden as I don’t have the energy for it and the farmers in my area are much better at it than I! I do not have a green thumb and in fact no longer allow myself to have indoor plants as I am not a good plant mom. Most mornings, I wake early to find time for the more meditative aspects of my practice—like making a swan-shaped lidded box for my daughter to take to university, or testing new forms and glazes. Honey (our dog) and I make it to the forest most days, visiting favourite trees despite the bugs—even if the blackflies did get both my ears one day, leaving them puffed up and comically swollen. Walking daily is a practice I have kept for more years than I can remember and essential to my wellbeing. 

Some days I  get out early on my bike before the big gravel trucks start bombing around, (we are surrounded by quarries) it’s fun to keep track of what plants grow where and what is happening in various fields. (The winter wheat has just been baled!) At first I liked visiting certain fields because it reminded me of Alberta and I’d get a little nostalgic. On the day I found a large Alberta Rose bush growing ditch side I realized that it is far more productive to appreciate the moment and I feel very happy and content that this place at this time is home.

My audio playlist shifts with the task at hand: instrumental, piano-based music when I’m creating something new; podcasts on spiritual healing while cleaning; long sci-fi audiobooks for the long hours of stonework. My Audible library is getting a solid workout—I’ll share a few favorites below.

After 20 years of building a practice, this is the first summer I’ve been able to make art full time. This year I turn 50! I feel deeply privileged to be here—and proud of the persistence it has taken.

I’m excited to begin sharing more about our current projects. Michael and I have been collaborating on a public artwork for a new park in Newmarket. Inspired by our love of trees, we’ve created five sculptural tree stumps/ remnants—each incorporating ceramic, cement, and cast recycled glass walnuts nestled into crevices. The park is home to a mature walnut grove, and we hope visitors (esp the little ones!) will enjoy exploring this work as much as we enjoyed making it.

This fall, I’ll be exhibiting a new piece in a group show at the Canadian Clay and Glass. The theme is “home and thresholds.” For the piece, I cast 16 blocks from an experimental mix of earthenware, wild clays, crushed bisque ware, cement, and scavenged glass—materials pulled from our rural property and “art supply” debris pile. I reimagined the cinderblock through a sculptural vocabulary, casting each block face with root-inspired imagery. It pushed me technically and creatively, and I can’t wait to see it installed and in dialogue with other artists. 

Looking ahead, 2026 will be a big year: I’ll be mounting my first solo museum exhibition at the Canadian Clay and Glass Gallery in Waterloo early in the year. Shortly after, I’ll be exhibiting at the newly appointed Goldfarb Gallery at York University. I feel deeply honoured and energized by these opportunities to share my studio practice.

 I hope your summer is filled with moments of beauty, curiosity, and creation.

Collecting wild clay from the Mulock Park construction site to incorporate into the sculptures, and a tiny fossil I found while processing!