A Year's Worth of Flowers

With Valentine's Day just around the corner, I have a gift for you: a year's worth of flowers. I hope you enjoy them (...and I'm sorry, but you have to share them with everyone else on the internet).

Last year I decided that I would try to take a photo of every type of flower that I found growing on the Small Pond Arts farm here in beautiful Prince Edward County. I went out with my camera almost every single day, looking for something new. 

The project started out slowly, but the first flowers of the year always send my heart a-flutter. After a gruelling winter, spring had arrived!

Things really started going gangbusters in May.

Many of these are non-native species, planted by some flower-loving gardener who lived here before us.

I enjoyed the daily ritual of walking around the property, peering at the ground, training my sense of observation.

June brought many more wildflowers, and many vegetables in our garden started flowering.

July saw the sunflowers and hollyhocks burst into their full glory, and one lone poppy sprang out of nowhere.

The only decorative flowers that I plant every year are sunflowers; it's become a tradition. We've got a great spot for them, and in the fall we love watching the blue jays who visit to feed on the seeds.

Blue Jay perched on a sunflower

By August things started slowing right down. Although there was still lots in bloom, these tiny purples were the only new flowers I could find.

I know there are a few species that I missed. Some last just a few days, and then they are gone...

And that, my friends, is a year's worth of flowers at Small Pond Arts, some 95 varieties! I have yet to identify most of them, but perhaps that is a job for another season. 

Make sure you take the time to stop and smell the flowers!

The Artists' Trail

There is a path in our woods. We call it the Artists' Trail. 

Visiting artists and guests are invited to create a piece of art and leave it on the trail, and everyone is welcome to explore it.

It's hard to resist the call of a path cut through the trees.

Let me show you a few things along the trail. DUCK!

It's a bone mobile. Most people run into it.

We maintain the path, but let nature entangle itself with the artwork.

Wind and water take their toll on every piece in one way or another. This carving by Peter Paylor was a light golden colour when we installed it:

 Many have left their mark here.

And their bright ideas...

There are love letters...

Nests...

And a sculpture that you shake to make a wish...

If your wish *happens* to be finding a place to create a sculpture in nature, then you are in luck!

When you reach the end of the trail, there is a view so beautiful we can't show it to you here...

You'll just have to come and see it for yourself.

The public is welcome to explore our trails; just check in at the gallery so we know you're out there!

Producing Artwork: Taking the First Step at Small Pond Arts

(This is a guest blog post, written by one of our former resident artists, Christine Legault. Make sure you check out her website to see more of her recent work. - Krista)

Coming to Small Pond as a one-month resident last April was a fundamental step in taking myself seriously as an artist. Being 26 years old at the time, I had an undergraduate in architecture, an undergraduate in philosophy, 3 years of travel behind me, and numerous different directions I wanted to take in life. A bit lost, my desire to produce artwork and work creatively was a starting point that I decided to take seriously. How, with who, and in what capacity; I had no idea. Wanting to be an “artist” is something that, like any profession, shouldn’t be taken lightly.

Christine in studio at Small Pond Arts; evidence of her nature walks 
is taped to the walls behind her. This practice of incorporating natural, found objects into her work would become an ongoing theme.

To be successful as an artist is the same as being successful as a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, an architect, or anything in life. Producing art requires a practiced skill of showing up and working. Except, instead of writing, you are working through ideas and you are producing visuals. An attempt, a draft, a sketch of what’s on your mind; that’s all any artwork can ever be. A lawyer shows up and reads, then writes, an artists shows up, and then draws, paints, sings, or moves.

Eggshells by Christine Legault, 24" x 36"

While showing up every day at Small Pond my practice (of producing artwork) grew.  I made deadlines, I developed a routine, I pushed myself to work, even when I was bored or tired.  Krista and Milé considered me an artist, and so, by consequence, I also considered myself an artist. I produced 10 paintings that were 36 x 36 inches in the 4 weeks that I was there. Squares that fit together in colour. It was mindless, not from a photograph, not complicated, not something that I was particularly attached to, but still something that I worked on. Every day.  I knew that the physical outcome wasn’t at all what mattered. What mattered is that I was forced to try and that I had a goal that I had to achieve. I knew that I was at the beginning of what will be a long process for me, and I somehow had to stop being scared of what I would produce. 

From there, I went out to New Brunswick and I deliberately tried to continue the practice I had started at Small Pond. 

Christine in studio in New Brunswick

I was more familiar now with using studio space in the capacity I wanted, and I knew more what I needed in order to produce a series of artwork.  I needed supplies, immediately, I needed to take breathers (week-long ones), I needed freedom and privacy to try things, I needed a way to get around and be in nature. So, I created that environment for myself, I worked on a farm in the odd weeks of being in the studio, I used materials I was attracted to, I didn’t worry about what this all meant. I just worked.  That’s when - the work started to actually be my own.

Paint by Christine Legault, 48" x 60"

Without taking that first step at Small Pond, I still wouldn’t know how I do/don’t work well in certain creative environments. Worse even, I wouldn’t know how fulfilled I feel when I’m working as an artist.  Being an artist-in-residence is important because it says to the world: “Hey! I value creating art enough to make it my job." All anyone can ever do is try, and that’s exactly what Small Pond is there for.  To help you try, and to encourage you to keep trying. Thanks to Krista and Milé for providing such a great opportunity for emerging artists to have a place to grow.

All it Takes, card by Christine Legault