I was thinking today about all the tiny vessels I used to make in my early days of working with clay. Sometimes, I’d spend the entire three hour class on one tiny pinch pot. At the time, my children were very young, and I had a newborn in the mix, so the scale now makes more sense. Maybe it was all I could manage. Maybe I needed the intense focus that zooming in on something so small provides. Most of the pinch pots ended up in a bin, but the respite they gave me through what was a demanding time made each and every one worth the hours I spent on them. I owe much of my focus, steady hand and attention to detail to those teenie, tiny bowls. They were probably much lovelier than I realized at the time. The beauties below are by ceramic artist, Alana Wilson.

It’s always interesting to see how an artist manifests from one medium to another. There’s a thread that runs through the work and each new medium gives way to fresh possibilities and perspectives. I find it reassuring to see a cohesive style, and to draw connections. Humans always like to see the thread. But I am also inspired when an artist’s range is such that they can keep surprising us. I’ve seen Mirena Kim’s ceramics over the years, but I never knew that she also painted and made large scale sculptures. The work is all so different that one might imagine it’s three artists at work. And maybe it is. Maybe, like Matryoshka dolls, we are all artists within an artist within an artist searching for ways to express what lives inside. It comes out in the way arrange flowers in a jar, do our makeup, or set food on a plate. It comes out in the way we tie a scarf, part our hair, or doodle on a pad of paper. It’s in everything we do. Each little thing offering a fresh possibility and perspective on the whole.

Trish Anderson’s textiles look like every colour imaginable is dripping down the wall. “Sometimes I have a hard time not using all the colours” says the Savannah-based fibre artist. Her hand-tufted rugs –– they belong on a wall –– are unabashedly exuberant. Imagine Delaunay and Pollock with a tufting gun. Oh, and bring Sheila Hicks into the studio. Anderson’s work is eye popping. Have a look.

It happened from one day to the next. Just like that the city pavements are covered in leaves. “On my count,” bellowed the Silver Maple, “Three, two, one” and they all came falling down. It’s always such a treat to walk through the university and see it raining leaves. Crimson. Copper. Acid yellow. The path outside our front door is a carpet of russet and gold. What’s beautiful about this slither of Autumn is that the no matter how many leaves land on your doorstep, there are still just as many on the trees.