I want living people to buy work made by living artists because there is no moment like this, and together we tell the story of Now. What you pay for a piece is a measure of your love for human nature, for our collective insistence upon creativity, no matter what.
I wonder about Gifts of all kinds, about how and if we choose to receive them. Not prizes, rewards, entitlements or charity, but Gifts.
Something vulnerable and connective happens around them.
Something shifts. It’s always a story.
Join me in August 2025 at keiramcarthur.substack.com/podcast for a series of audio stories called Tales of Gifts and Wonder.
To meander is to slow down, to bend around things so as to know them, touch them gently before moving on through this curve to the next. It’s like a labyrinth, but also a passage through a place, a task – any experience, consciously or not. If it’s a deep curve, it will be overwhelming, a painful transformation. We have choice though, to resist, or go with the flow.
I know people as unstoppable and prolific as ragweed. I know mayflower people, bloodroot people, wild grape folk who can topple old tired structures with patience and determination. What if we blossom anyway amid the chaos, beautifully and defiantly, like plants do?
A solid eighteen inches of snow since Saturday afternoon in the GTA. All available vehicles, from snowblowers through skid steers and pickups with plough attatchments to massive snowploughs all in 24-hour play on the roads.
Trees are relational beings that are never solitary, always connected. The same is true of Humans. Thank you to everyone who toured the show, for your conversation and your sincere engagement. What a pleasure that was!
New perspectives too, washed clean by the emotional waves. I’m curious about the active differences between inheritance and legacy. Is it choice, I wonder. Also I wonder about the ideas we cling to as though they define us. They do not. Memory, like main stream media, is unreliable.
At this moment I’m barefoot in a wingback chair charting the movements of the mice in my ceiling and the family downstairs (a thump, now tears). Pre-solstice sunlight travels through the plants and across the floor.