A few weeks ago, I reworked the background on a piece that had been exhibited last year. It got me thinking about a question that I’ve been asked several times, “how do I know when a piece is finished”? I started writing the first draft for this blog post yesterday. Coincidentally, earlier this morning while my new work was being photographed by Ted Clarke for an upcoming exhibition, a studio visitor asked if the work was finished. I paused before responding because I was ta

I learned something about myself this past summer. When I was cleaning my wool fabrics, fresh out of the dryer, I caught myself several times stroking the fabric. I would start daydreaming and loose focus on the task. I love the tactile quality of fibre, especially tweeds. The weave structure has a feathered translucent quality. I contemplate what it might look like hand hooked. I AM ATTACHED TO MY MATERIALS I am attached to my materials. They are the underpinning that prov

Someone asked me, “how are things going in the studio”? “I’m in the love stage”, was my reply. I’ve just finished my work aptly titled Scattered. It’s now installed in the gallery and I can cut myself a bit of slack over the next few weeks before I begin research for the next piece. In my last blog post do not disturb the water, I compared the creative process to a giant squid. There’s no doubt that at times the process is very squid like with its flailing tendril like misst

Viewing art in a gallery is one experience, making it is another. Like some of you I’m a gallery goer who likes to view the finished work and bring my life experience to the narrative. I’m also the artist who explores concepts that are supported by the materials and techniques I use. And I’m the maker who has mastered her techniques and has a deep connection to the materials and the process. Expanded square hand hooked. Detail. #4 cut. I keep coming back to one of my favori