Every once in a while, someone discovers what I do for a living and says, “wouldn’t it be easier to just print it digitally?”

You mean, instead of taking my intricately detailed drawings and carving them painstakingly into a woodblock, and then inking them by hand and printing them using a big roller and a 2-tonne iron printing press built in 1891, just scan it and go – boop – and the machine spits it out?

Okay, fair question.

We live in an age of unprecedented technological growth and innovation, and while I want to be clear I’m not knocking the usefulness of digital technology, I do believe traditional craftsmanship has something uniquely important to offer, and is worth preserving and passing down.

Here’s the thing: learning to make things with our hands keeps us smart, remembering how to think and not just what to think.

It’s also satisfying in a particularly special way. Handmade objects are imbued with an energy that comes through, for the creator and the audience alike.

I have a hunch that you already know this. 

Setting up the press at Atelier Circulaire. Photo by H Walkstrong.

Setting up the press at Atelier Circulaire. Photo by H Walkstrong.

Studying the markings of a butterfly’s wings or the specific way a vine twists around the stem of a plant will teach you a great deal about how the universe is put together.


Recently I was at the print shop and the technician Carlos – an expert lithographer and endless well of fascinating history lessons – said to me, casually, 

“You know… to master this technique, one lifetime is not enough. It would take several, I think.”

And then he looked down at the new edition of prints I was signing and said, “Your woodcuts are magnificent. You must keep going.”

High praise, that. And a mighty call to action.

 It’s fun to think that you are continuing the work from a previous unknown lifetime, when you were a blacksmith or a baker or a termite.

Anyway, all of this got me thinking about how engaging with our creativity and self-expression has an incredible capacity to heal us, both individually and collectively. It connects us to each other and what it means to be human.

It’s a really beautiful thing.

And it feels special to have the opportunity and the honour to continue a tradition that keeps us connected to history, to each other and to the natural world – especially in an era when people are feeling increasingly disconnected and disillusioned.

If one lifetime’s not enough to master your craft, then your life’s work is just to set up your next incarnation as best you can, which is awesome because it frees you to simply focus on the journey, as you won’t be reaching the destination until much later when you’re a frog or a temple or a mushroom.

How cool is that?

Now I’d love to hear from you! What’s your favourite thing about traditional craftsmanship? What do you do to indulge your creative curiosity? What work from a previous lifetime are you continuing? Tell me in the comments below.

And for the love of handmade, thank you for being here.


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Howling at the Moon

“Somewhere to the eastward a wolf howled: lightly, questioningly. I knew that voice, for I had heard it many times before. It was George, sounding the wasteland for an echo from the missing members of his family. But for me it was a voice which spoke of the lost world which was once ours, before we chose the alien role; a world which I had glimpsed and almost entered… only to be excluded, at the end, by my own self.“

– Farley Mowat, Never Cry Wolf

HOWL .  Limited edition handmade print on Japanese paper. Matted size 11”x14”

HOWL. Limited edition handmade print on Japanese paper. Matted size 11”x14”

A few years ago I stumbled upon an old copy of Never Cry Wolf, the 1963 novel from influential author and environmentalist Farley Mowat. The story is partly based on Mowat’s experience being sent to the Canadian Barrens by the government to examine the northern wolf population and their relationship with the caribou.

I got pretty quickly hooked into this tale of wilderness and scientific expedition. Seeing wolves through the eyes of a biologist sent to live in one of the harshest, most isolated places in the country was so valuable, and I learned many surprising facts about the nature of wolves.

The complexity and sophistication of their social world struck me most.

Their playfulness, collaboration, and family bonding activities were amazing, and made me instantly fall in love with these creatures. Far from being ruthless killers, they actually keep the caribou population and general ecosystem healthy, subsisting mainly on rodents and other small mammals, and only hunting the weak and sick caribou, keeping parasites and disease down in the herd.

I was absolutely horrified to learn that the Canadian government implements a wolf cull program, killing on average 500 wolves per year in the province of British Columbia alone. This barbaric practice has been going on for decades and continues to this day, despite considerable scientific evidence that it does not help restore declining caribou populations – the pretext for the cull. 

I probably don’t have to tell you the real threat to the caribou population. (Hint: what has two legs and likes to shoot guns).

It can be difficult not to feel powerless in a situation like this, but it’s worth remembering that there are actually many ecological success stories when it comes to restoring balance to a compromised ecosystem. (If you haven’t seen Peggy Oki’s Ted talk about her lifelong efforts to protect the earth’s whale populations, I highly recommend.)

Together, let’s create a happy ending for this story.

We can learn to live in greater harmony with our earth. We have to try - it’s the only home we have. 

Even the smallest of acts can help make a difference. That’s why 10% of the profits from the woodcut print HOWL will be donated to Pacific Wild’s campaign to save BC wolves.

Click here to learn more.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for being here. Aouuuuuuuuuuuuu.


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Hortense the Monarch

I recently had a wonderful experience that I would like to share with you. You see – I have this beautiful friend who works in a flower shop. Her arrangements would make your heart skip a beat, I’m telling you.
One fine day back in September, she called me up to say she had an unusual favour to ask of me. She proceeded to tell me about the unsuspecting little creature she had found inside a bouquet at her shop. It was none other than a chubby little monarch caterpillar.


Of course I was thrilled to say YES when she asked me if I would care for it. She brought the caterpillar over in a little flower bowl with some sticks and leaves, and a big lush bouquet of milkweed to go along with it. I would later be amazed by how much leaf matter such a tiny creature could rapidly consume.
We named our new friend Hortense, it seemed to fit. Over the next few weeks, I learned a lot of new information about monarchs. Watching this creature do its thing, curiosities would naturally arise and pretty soon my whole household was googling monarch facts on a daily basis.

Here are some Important Monarch Facts we learned:

  • Monarch caterpillars eat only milkweed leaves, and a lot of them. One monarch can defoliate an entire plant during its larval (caterpillar) phase, which is up to about 200 leaves in 2 weeks. That’s a lot of leaves if you’re 2 inches long.

  • I also learned the word defoliate, which is a pretty good word.

  • Monarch caterpillars are very impressive poopers. Very. Must be all the defoliating.

The more I researched monarchs, the more I learned how many diseases, afflictions and predators they can encounter in their lifetime. I began to realize the odds were really stacked against this little creature, who had been transported as an accidental stowaway from much farther south, all the way up to Canada, presumably in a refrigerated truck. Thankfully at least food was not an issue, as there were plenty of plants in the truck to defoliate.
One day I came home and found that in the few hours I had been gone, Hortense had transformed into a chrysalis. I have no words to describe the wonderment I felt at coming home to find this completely transformed creature. It bared almost no resemblance to its prior form, having liquefied and reformed as a pupa in a matter of hours.

During the 2 weeks of the chrysalis phase that followed, I did more research and learned more about monarchs, especially caring for them in captivity. The more I learned, the more I realized the fragility of this creature’s life and all the potential challenges it could face. I began to temper my enthusiasm with a cautious optimism instead. I really wanted to see Hortense emerge victoriously as a butterfly, but I also realized there were so many ways the metamorphosis could be compromised, and I needed to prepare myself emotionally that she might not make it.

This was not an easy task as I had already become quite fond of this little bug. I managed to allow myself to detach from the outcome and focus on my amazement at what had already come into my life and happened. I have Hortense to thank for this lesson as well, which I couldn’t help but extrapolate to other areas of life. I think a lot of us, myself included, are in the habit of focusing on what we have yet to achieve, and we don't always take as much time to reflect on what we have already accomplished. We have so many dreams and goals and aspirations and we put a lot of effort and energy into taking care of things, so feeling like we're not yet where we want to be can lead to frustration.


The chrysalis, dotted with gold flecks, slowly turned from a bright, soft green to a dark, translucent hue. One sunny afternoon, a wing moved and POP, the chrysalis opened. Then just like that, Hortense made her way down and out of the chrysalis. She hung below, gently flexing and pulsing. I was so transfixed watching her I almost forgot to capture the moment on camera. 

Once her wings had dried off and unfurled fully, we slid a chopstick into the bowl, giving her something to crawl out on and hang out. And hang out she did, for many days without moving too much. We were not sure she would actually fly. But we kept feeding her orange nectar every morning and she drank it up and that was encouraging. We all really liked her.
This whole thing got me thinking about how watching the processes of nature unfold around us in real time has the power to nudge us beautifully into the present moment. It’s very hard to stay focused on some minor irritation from your day or worry about the future when you come home to check in on your house butterfly. The magic creature just grabs your attention and fills you with wonderment by the simple fact of its existence.


The amazing thing is these processes are unfolding around us all the time. They are as common as dirt (and they’re happening in the dirt, too). Even if you live in a city and don’t necessarily have access to old growth forests and wild animals on a daily basis, there are always cues to our connection with nature and environment that we can tap into if we so choose. The truth is, and I felt it so closely with Hortense, we are nature, and we are our environment. There is no place where nature ends and we begin. We are all part of the same ecosystem, growing out of it like fruit popping out of a tree, and then that fruit puts caterpillars on trucks that run on dinosaur bones and… wait, where was I?
Ah, yes. The infinite energy of nature and life itself. Pretty cool stuff.

Anyway, one warm and sunny October morning, I awoke to find Hortense fluttering around inside the little enclosure we had made for her. It was time for her to go. I took the mesh laundry hamper that was her home carefully out to the balcony and lifted the little flap of fabric I had clipped to the opening. She knew what to do. Just like that, she took off on the breeze, flapping her little wings. Seeing her fluttering through the trees in the neighbour’s yard before disappearing over the next block brings tears to my eyes now as it did then, this precious little creature surviving against all odds and flying away in the sunshine.
We were sad to see her go, but so glad to have known her, and we mused about her journey over the next few days. She was smart to leave before this terrible storm hit... I checked the weather in upstate NY, it’s looking clear and sunny – great flying weather.... She must be over the Carolinas by now... She’s probably sipping tequila in Mexico... Keep an eye on the mail, maybe she’ll send a postcard.


Over the weeks and months that followed, I crafted a piece of art that would become a love letter, a joyful ode to the lovely Hortense, who in our short time together taught me many things about life, death, resilience, temporality, and the infinite wonder of our beautiful world. Thank you, Hortense.

You can view The Mighty Monarch woodcut by clicking here.