Archive

Becoming Place, Hornby Island 2025

 

 

 

 

 

The gift of doing an artist residency for me, is to explore a geographic place through observation, collecting, learning history, photographing, drawing, arranging and making. This is the second ‘Becoming Place’ installation I have created, the first was during a month long residency at the Hugo Burge Foundation. These have become like a giant sketchbook through which I can share my experience and what I call the ‘poetics of place’.

Click here to see Becoming Place, Borderlands Scotland

I Feel I Know You, Too 2025

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the third day of my five week artist residency at the Jeffrey Rubinoff Sculpture Park on Hornby Island, my father passed away. I was over four thousand kilometres away from him and yet I felt him leave. My world changed in an instant and the efforts to continue making artwork toward a scheduled exhibition became deeply challenged.

Thinking about the fragility of life and the mystery of consciousness, about earth, soil and natural growth, this piece became a sister piece to an embroidered textile installation from 2023. I felt the need to ground myself while also portraying the vulnerability of life and loss and the difficulties of communicating in words. Sometimes we sense beyond language, as I believe we do with nature.

The braille dots are made from soil and clay dug with my hands from the area near the barn studio, molded on reclaimed paper plates then poured over with resin after being sundried. The cursive text, a call and response to ‘I feel I know you’, is formed from wild grass.

Go to I Feel I Know You, 2023 to see the sister installation.

Becoming Place 2024

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hugo Burge Foundation     Marchmont Estate    Duns, Scotland
Watercolour, graphite, macro photography, paper, thread, collected ephemera

Garden Constellate 2024

 

 

 

 

 

Garden Constellate, 2024
On site at Marchmont Estate, Borderlands Scotland through the Hugo Burge Foundation
Artist in Residence studio and in situ on the estate grounds
Fallen branches, feathers, fire ashes, plant leaves

Lift You Like A Prayer 2024

 

 

Embroidered shroud
macro photography transfer on reclaimed, pigment-dyed fabric, branches, leaves, butterflies, bird nest, feather-made bird, clay frog, soil
Installation size variable

Photography by Toni Hafkenscheid & the artist

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Close to four hundred dots were embroidered with turquoise wool, spelling in braille the following lines from a poem by 13th-century mystic poet Jalal al-Din Muhammad Rumi.I have come to drag you out of yourself and take you in my heart. I have come to bring out the beauty you never knew you had and lift you like a prayer to the sky.’

For me, these words encapsulate what it means to really see beneath and beyond the surface of our lives; to hold space for grief, loss and vulnerability; to embrace with all our senses the living and that which has passed on from the material world yet is held precious in our living memory.

Building on the idea of conversations between the known and unknown, possibility and stagnation and ultimately life and so-called death, this installation features a shroud as its focus.

The 226 x 112 cm I 89 x 44 in fabric piece is made from well-worn, reclaimed bedsheets hand-dyed with graphite and pigment, photo transfers of macro-photographed decaying plant-life hand-stitched with silk backing. It is suspended away from the wall and draped in front of a collection of tree branches, dried leaves, butterflies, stones, a bird nest with sleeping bird and a single clay frog who also appears to be sleeping.

I feel I know you 2023

 

 

 

 

 

Embroidered braille with wool, embroidery thread & string on reclaimed sheer curtain, driftwood Projected photograph
228.6 x 276.9 cm I 90 x 109 in

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Through the embroidered braille phrase I feel I know you, there is a suggestion toward the sense of touch as one would use when reading braille. Each circular character is stitched to appear like a lush forest floor, highly tactile and evocative of something beyond the communication of the words it represents. On the opposite side, in embroidered cursive reads ‘I feel I know you too’, suggesting a response and an interwoven relationship between the known and unknown. It calls for use beyond the five surface senses to access our emotive sensibilities, drawing ourselves into more expansive, incorporeal realms.

With the projected floral shadows and gently moving light source combined with its semi-transparent fabric, this re-purposed sheer curtain also speaks to what may lay beyond our line of vision, delving into the realm of possibilities. From this piece there is an invitation to return to nature where immersive and healing experiences can provide us with further connection to each other and ourselves.

Within this piece is a personal reference to my mother who many years ago lost her eyesight first in one eye, then the other, yet through a number of meticulous surgeries, cumbersome post-op regimens and natural remedies, regained the ability to see albeit without centre acuity. Now in her mid-eighties she maintains a dedicated gardening routine, inspiring everyone who experiences her colourful, sprawling garden. Her love of nature, the healing arts and her skills with sewing and knitting continue to inspire my own creative journey and through this piece it is my wish that others may also find their way into the garden, the forest, the lakeshore and our wild, spectacular natural environment.

 

 

Photography by the artist & Toni Hafkenscheid

Room For Us All 2024

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vintage books, reclaimed chair, organic matter, unfired lake clay, tea bags, embroidered hair on organic cotton, lady bugs, handmade bunting

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Room For Us All began as an inner dialogue and visual expression about feelings of isolation, loneliness and segregation. Working in my tiny garden studio, new to the small neighbourhood on the southern shores of Lake Huron during the overwhelming sense of muddy uncertainty that fermented from lock-downs and segregation, I found solace in reading, researching, drawing and imagining.

The initial elements were a single chair, a hand-embroidered piece of organic cotton, using my own trimmed hair to create whirling patterns of vines; dozens of collected vintage books, paper-clay cup and a small table on which the cotton was to be spread. As I started to settle and I worked to heal my anxiety with daily walks in nature, conversations with distant friends and processing my move back to Canada, the idea shifted into a surreal dreamscape, a visceral reckoning with elements both known and unknown.

Without the table, it presented itself as a more capacious blend of domestic and nature-made elements; an extension of the inner ramblings of shadow work and creativity. This is what entanglement means to me: connectivity interwoven with the joys and challenges of learning and discovering.

Installed in the gallery space, it is a gathering of sorts, a releasing of isolations and a coming together of disparate ideas, thoughts and in darker hours- fear, all while celebrating a deepening camaraderie with nature. I am fascinated with the concept of non-duality and what that encompasses. Here, where there is clearly one seat and a single cup, it is suggested through the title that we are interwoven with nature’s symbiotic energy alchemizing room for us all.

 

IN DISCUSSION : SIOBHÁN HUMSTON WITH SUSAN MADSEN

The following text is excerpted from a discussion between the artist and her long-time artist colleague and friend Susan Madsen in February 2024.
Initials SM and italic font indicates the words of Susan, and SH for Siobhán Humston.

SM I am looking at the stitched hair (Room For Us All); there is an edge of weirdness to it but it is very root-like looking and it seems to reference that quest for roots that is one of the big themes in the show. And the ceramic cup which is made from a pressed leaf mold but has a rootiness to it as well.

SH The curator brought up about hair being used for nests by birds, like when they find clumps of it laying around and also people often use it in compost, putting it in the garden, so then that ties into the context of the garden. I think that in a very practical sense, I ask what materials can I gather that are interesting; what do those materials say about the work. As Goethe was known to ask: where are you in the work? Where is the artist in the work? Then, what does it infuse the work with? For this project, every time I trimmed my hair I just kept it. It’s clean. It’s not knotted, it’s not tangled but it links into what can be done with hair. When I lived in the Okanagan I had my hair analyzed and it was one of the most fascinating things. I got back this long sheet of paper and on it was everything that this person had learned from one tiny lock of hair. It was incredible. I guess there is further excitement about using it for that underlying reason. I have questioned whether this piece even works both on its own, or within the context of all the other pieces. I won’t really know until it is installed but I think it being presented as a surreal dream-scape pulls the elements together to make it cohesive. I am interested in providing a unique spark for the imagination of the viewers. Allowing the hair embroidered floor piece to coexist with the woven organic chair, the bunting, dozens of lady bugs, the books, clay balls and broken branches makes for the setup of an intriguing open-ended tale.

 

Photography by Toni Hafkenscheid & the artist

Dance for All the Minutes of All the Days 2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stop motion film (2:27 loop) with reclaimed pheasant wings mounted in clay as part of an installation of branches, hand-made bio ink drawings & twenty-eight shelves displaying bones, feathers, seaweed, stones etc

 

From the Forest We See Ocean, From the Ocean We Feel Land 2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From the Forest We See Water, From the Ocean We Smell Land, 2017/2018
In situ, Haida Gwaii Museum
Graphite paintings of islands on photographic paper suspended with fishing line from tree branch
190 x 85 x 160 cm I  75 x 33.5 x 63 in

The Stories We Tell 2015

‘The Stories We Tell’ short film

 

 

 

 

 

The Stories We Tell, 2015
National Geographic cut outs, short film

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Over the course of several months, I cut out and arranged these shapes on one of the walls in my post-grad studio. They are cut from the car, watch and camera ads from a stack of found vintage National Geographic magazines. The man-made construct of the grid interacts with the natural forms that are not clearly defined as one thing or the other. Perhaps the shapes are coral, or trees or antlers, or river tributaries; the play of human-made elements helping to build a narrative. When it came time to take the ninety-six pieces down, I decided to document the process, and did so at the onset of the evening to highlight the light and shadows in the room. I put together this short video with those photographs and constructed a soundscape to accompany and build a sonic narrative.

 ‘The Stories We Tell’ short film