I’ve been asked the question “So what is this?” more than a few times since I opened in May 2025, by strangers, passersby, curious pop-ins.

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My usual answer is, “It’s a creative flex space with artist-led workshops and movement on Wednesday evenings and Friday mornings.” It’s just enough to gesture at broad yet vague truth, that this is a place of play.

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Four years ago, after a long west coast summer, I landed on Vancouver Island. I lived in a small, semi-off-grid home where I showered outdoors, even in the snow, learned the sacred art of a dry outhouse, and swam almost daily in the river just down the trail. My bedroom had a little wooden window that funneled the moonlight, often a blue haze, so bright it would wake me. Living ontop of a small mountain, I had never felt closer to the moon. 

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In that darling small home, I started carving spoons and shaping slabs of walnut, sitting cross-legged by the small fire that heated it. It wasn’t so different from childhood, when I’d play in my dad’s shop, gluing and nailing scraps of wood on my very own milk crate workbench. I never knew what I was building, but I loved the doing. As a kid, I was often found hauling tools and bits of wood into the forest by the creek to build forts—early expressions and manifestations, I now realize, of that tiny home nestled among the tree. It was there, on the mountain, that I first began naming my projects Blue Moon.

Eventually I moved from this home, settling elsewhere but I kept building, with wood, with leather, with clay, with junkyard scraps and desert glass. I dyed with cyanotype. I painted with earth. After a little wandering, I began my biggest creative project yet—sculpting the studio from the floor up. Here, I began to play again.

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So, when I’m asked “What is this?”, the real answer is this,

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It’s a space, not confined to these four walls, where people are invited to come, learn, explore, and connect. A place where play is mandated. Where workshops, movement, exhibits, and collective collaboration connect us back into our hands, our bodies, and our selves, so we can hold others.

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It’s a place where we can collectively feed into the energy of the 13th moon, an invitation into the sacred unknown, reflecting the abundance of creative energy, the power of intuition, and the wisdom of liminal, flexible thresholds. They say a Blue Moon is “a time between time”, which I interpret as, a moment where rules loosen and connection to the unseen and maybe unknown become more possible. Where we are not separate from the Earth, from each other, or from the magic.

 

That is Blue Moon Collective. 

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My future visioning is already expanding now that a foundation has been laid for this second home. New and evolving forms of play will be shared when the moons align.

In the meantime, you can be part of this collective by joining workshops, attending movement classes, or co-working with me in the studio during the weekdays.

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You can also support the evolution of Blue Moon by donating, whether that’s financially to help cover ongoing studio costs, or through materials like art supplies, tools, or inspiring books in need of a new home. As this one-woman show continues to research funding and grants, every contribution helps keep the spirit of this space alive and growing.