It’s about raspberry crumble squares.

If you’ve been reading this substack for a while, you’ll know this isn’t a recipe blog (and I don’t plan on turning it into one). But baking has always been part of my creative life. I love making things with my hands and that includes baking and cooking!

Yesterday I shared a photo of these raspberry crumble squares on IG, and several people commented on them or sent me messages saying they looked delicious. It made me think that the recipe deserved a permanent home instead of disappearing into my Stories, so here we are.

Before we get to the recipe, I want to give credit where it’s due.

I’ve been baking from Smitten Kitchen recipes for well over a decade. Deb Perelman of Smitten Kitchen is one of those recipe writers whose recipes I trust almost without question. They’re approachable, thoughtfully tested, and they’ve never let me down. Most of all they are always delicious!

These crumble squares are heavily inspired by two of her recipes. I borrowed the buttery shortbread base from her Raspberry Crumble Tart Bars and the oat crumble topping from her Raspberry Breakfast Bars, then adapted them into the dessert I was craving using frozen raspberries picked from the bushes in our backyard.

If you’d like to see the original recipes that inspired mine, I’ve linked them below. If you enjoy baking, I can’t recommend Smitten Kitchen highly enough.

Now let’s bake.

Backyard Raspberry Crumble Squares

Makes: One 9 × 9-inch pan

These are somewhere between a fruit crumble and a dessert bar - a buttery shortbread base, a generous layer of tart raspberries, and a crunchy oat streusel on top. I’m happy to say that they were a big hit at a family gathering this past weekend!

Ingredients

For the shortbread base

• 210 g (15 tbsp or just under 1 cup) unsalted butter, softened

• 75 g (⅜ cup) granulated sugar

• 1¼ tsp vanilla extract

• ⅜ tsp salt

• 260 g (about 2 cups) all-purpose flour

For the raspberry filling

• 400-450 g frozen raspberries

• 3 tbsp granulated sugar (use 4 tbsp if your berries are very tart)

• 1½ tbsp cornstarch

• 1½ tsp finely grated lemon zesT

For the oat streusel

• 100 g (1¼ cups) rolled oats

• 80 g (⅔ cup) all-purpose flour

• 75 g (⅓ cup packed) brown sugar

• ¼ tsp salt

• 105 g (7½ tbsp) cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes

Method

Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Line a 9 × 9-inch baking pan with parchment paper, leaving enough overhang to lift the finished squares out easily.

Bake the shortbread

Cream the butter and sugar together until smooth. Mix in the vanilla and salt, then stir in the flour until a soft dough forms.

Press the dough evenly into the prepared pan.

Bake for 18-22 minutes, until the edges are just beginning to turn golden.

Make the streusel

In the same bowl (because why use a new one?), stir together the oats, flour, brown sugar, cinnamon and salt.

Add the cold butter and work it into the dry ingredients with your fingertips (or a pastry cutter) until you have a mixture of fine crumbs and larger buttery clumps.

Make the raspberry filling

After the shortbread is baked, combine the frozen raspberries, sugar, cornstarch, lemon zest, lemon juice and a pinch of salt in a large bowl.

Gently toss until everything is evenly coated.

(I did this at the end of the shortbread’s baking time so that the raspberries didn’t thaw and get too liquidy before baking but if you’re using fresh berries, this could probably be done sooner.)

Assemble

Spread the raspberry mixture evenly over the warm shortbread base.

Scatter the oat streusel evenly over the raspberries.

Bake

Return the pan to the oven and bake for 40-50 minutes, until the topping is golden brown and the raspberry juices are bubbling around the edges.

Cool

Allow the crumble to cool completely before slicing into squares.

(If you can’t resist sneaking a warm spoonful from the corner of the pan, I completely understand.)

Thanks for following me on this little detour into the kitchen.

Most weeks you’ll still find me sharing paintings, music, sketchbooks, sewing projects, and the occasional creative rabbit hole. But every now and then, something comes out of the oven that feels just as worth sharing as something that comes off the painting table.

If you make these raspberry crumble squares, I’d love to hear how they turn out. Leave a comment below or tag me on Instagram so I can see your version.

Happy baking!

Melissa

One of the biggest things happening this summer is that the silversmithing studio where I teach and manage shop is moving into a brand new space at the end of the month. I’m genuinely so excited about it (and I’ve been hyping it up to my students every chance I get!).

I’m looking forward to being back at street level. We’ve spent the last eight years tucked away on the second floor, and while it’s served us well, it’ll be so much fun to have a bright storefront again, with people wandering in and streetcars rolling past the windows. I snapped a photo from inside the new space looking out onto the street, and every time I look at it I get a little more excited.

This will actually be The Devil’s Workshop’s fourth home in 21 years, and I’ve had the privilege of working and teaching in every single one of them. It’s kind of wild to think about all the memories attached to each space and all the new ones we’re about to make.

So in the midst of that excitement, one thing I have been trying to do is slow down a little. Not necessarily by doing less (because that hasn’t really happened), but by making space for the kinds of projects that fill my cup.

For me, that has been sewing.

Somewhere over the past 2 months I caught the sewing bug again, and I haven’t been able to shake it. In the past couple of months I’ve made two Morning Glory Tops by Sarah Kirsten (one matches a skirt I made a few years ago), a pair of All Day Culottes by Matchy Matchy Sewing Club, a self-drafted quilt-like skirt and two Ogden Camis by True Bias! And if you can’t tell from the photos below, I love burnt orange, lol.

It’s funny how different sewing feels from painting. Painting asks me to make every decision from scratch, while sewing lets me settle into the rhythm of construction and problem-solving. Both are creative, but they exercise different parts of my brain, and lately sewing has been exactly what I needed.

Digging through my fabric stash also inevitably uncovered a collection of unfinished projects.

During the pandemic I made handmade fanny packs using fabric, many of which I hand dyed myself, paired with colourful printed linings. I found several that were almost finished, waiting patiently in a storage bin. Now that I’ve finally learned how to use a serger properly (mostly just the threading got me), I think I can finish them much more easily than I could a few years ago. My hope is to get them completed and listed in my Etsy shop this fall. I’ll share a few photos of some of the finished bags from before because I still love them.

Outside the studio, we’ve been enjoying the fruits of summer, literally.

A few years ago, raspberry canes started sneaking under the fence from our neighbour’s yard. Every summer they’ve spread a little farther, and this year we’ve had our biggest harvest yet. The berries are slowing down now having reached their peak about a week ago but all in all we have picked around five pounds of raspberries, with bags tucked away in the freezer waiting to become something. I’m thinking maybe some kind of buttery shortbread based square.

Our pup, Lucky, has also become invested in raspberry season. She has somehow figured out how to pluck the ripe berries right off the bush herself, which is both adorable and unhelpful when you’re trying to harvest them.

Painting has taken a bit of a back seat recently, mostly because my sewing projects have completely taken over my drawing table. My goal this week is simply to clear that space so I can get back to work. I already have a couple tarot card illustrations drawn and ready for paint, and I’m excited to finally start bringing them, and the project, back to life. I’ve also begun planning my 2027 Women & Guitars calendar, which will have an additional theme this year that I feel will enhance the images.

I’m learning that slowing down doesn’t mean standing still. Sometimes it just means paying attention. Picking raspberries in the backyard. Finishing old projects instead of always starting new ones. Making clothes that I’ll wear for years. Clearing the table so there’s room to paint again.

That’s where I’m at this summer so far - teaching, biking, picking berries, finishing projects, making clothing and clearing the table to paint again.

Thanks for following along (even when I disappear for a little while sometimes) and until next time!

Meli

PS. Here’s a song I’ve been listening to on repeat lately.. it’s an old song of one of my favourite bands.

I finished this painting this afternoon and I thought it would be fun to show you both versions that I ended up making.

The first (below) was created digitally in Procreate and Illustrator as part of an online challenge. It was a great excuse to experiment with colour, and I have to admit there’s something sooo satisfying about being able to completely reinvent a palette with a few clicks. It’s playful, fast, and opens up all kinds of possibilities - I could seriously toggle that recolour art button for hours and sometimes have.

But after I finished the digital version, I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like as an actual painting. So I pulled out my gouache dry palettes, neocolor 2s (which I use like watercolour) and pigma pens and painted it the way I’ve been making my tarot cards and other recent work.

And no surprise.. I like this version so much more.

Watching the paint drift across the paper, embracing the small imperfections, and letting the ink do what it wants to do that feels much more like me. Digital art is an amazing tool, and I’ll definitely keep using Illustrator, especially for surface pattern design. But I think I’m coming to accept that I’m happiest when my hands are covered in paint.

Maybe that’s what I’ve been figuring out all along. I don’t necessarily want to quit making digital artwork - I want to make paintings, drawings, and ink illustrations, then bring those into Illustrator later to create repeat patterns, fabric designs, and other products. This feels like the best of both worlds.

The subject felt natural too. A woman standing in the desert with her guitar.

I’ve always felt connected to the desert and I can’t really explain it. I’ve only really been to one once but when I was there, everything became quieter. The vast open space, the resilience of the plants, the endless sky... it gives me a peace that few places do. Maybe that’s why it keeps finding its way into my work. Plus, cacti are just fun to draw!

I’d love to know which version of the image you prefer: the digital one or the hand-painted one. I know where my vote lands.

Thanks for following along while my creative process continues to unfold!

Meli.

I was in my hometown for a quick visit this week, and ended up with a bit of unexpected free time while waiting for my train home. The train was delayed, so I wandered downtown and revisited a couple of old haunts. I haven’t lived there in over 20 years, so it was strange and tender in equal measure. Some places are still there like the old bookstore, stubbornly sitting like it has refused to participate in time passing, and some are long gone, like the club my friends and I used to go to for “Mo Gravy” nights, dancing and sweating to funk music mid-week and learning something I’ve never forgotten: as my ex-bandmate and friend once title a CD mix he gave me, “Jazz is the teacher, Funk is the preacher.” after the song by James Blood Ulmer.

After wandering a bit I was looking up new releases and started listening to the album Wandering Star by Haylie Davis which came out a couple of weeks ago in the station as I waited for my train, jotting down notes as it played. (Later while looking up a YouTube video to post here, I would read similar comparisons as what I’m making below, haha).

This album feels like a warm day off where you wander around the house in your pyjamas for a few hours, lingering over an easy but delicious breakfast with someone you love, a cat or dog curled up nearby, and nowhere in particular to be. It immediately brought to mind the records of Karen Carpenter and Carly Simon, with those clear, piercing vocals sitting at the centre of the music, and some of Emmylou Harris’ twang thrown in for good measure.

There’s an early-’70s quality to the engineering that I responded to right away. It almost sounds as though it was recorded to tape. Whether it was or not, it captures a warmth and spaciousness that so much of the music I grew up loving possesses.

By the end I caught a faint echo of Elton John’s album Tumbleweed Connection from 1970, though with a lot less cowbell. Maybe it’s the piano, maybe it’s the slow confidence of the songs, but something about it brought that record to mind.

What I love most is how forward the vocals are in the mix. That approach feels increasingly rare in contemporary recordings. Here the instruments sit back in a cohesive way, allowing the lyrics and Haylie’s voice to lead the conversation. The occasional steel guitar solo steps forward when needed, and the slide guitar throughout gives everything a kind of nostalgic feeling, like a postcard you find that you bought from a place you only half remember.

Standout tracks for me are Lily of the Valley and Horns of Time. The latter feels like a song I might have written in another life, albeit in a more folk-oriented incarnation. The title track, Wandering Star, is lovely as well.

I’ll definitely have this one on repeat for a while. More than anything, it gives me the feeling that I’m listening to a real artist playing with a real band in a real room. Everything feels human, lived-in and beautifully unadorned. Not flawed in execution, but in the best sense of the word - alive.

And then I just kept it playing as the train pulled out, watching my hometown slide away behind the window while the album stayed with me all the way out of town.

Thanks for reading!

Meli

The biggest excitement this past week was the opening reception on Thursday for World Pup at Gallery 1065, a group exhibition featuring artwork of dogs that runs from June 11-21. I have a painting of Lucky in the show, and the opening was a lot of fun. A few canine guests stopped by to check out the artwork, which definitely made for a more entertaining gallery experience than usual.

I also submitted my public art proposal last Monday. It was my first time applying to a public art call which was nerve wracking, and while I’m trying not to think too much about the outcome, I’m glad I did it. Now comes the waiting part, so wish me luck!

There hasn’t been a lot of art-making happening lately, but I did spend the better part of three days making a skirt.

I started with four different fabrics from Alexia Marcelle Abegg’s Warp and Weft collection (circa 2019/2020, see screenshot above

of Ruby Star Society catalog from that time), sewing them together into long stripes before cutting out the pattern pieces. My original plan was to keep the stripes running straight, but somewhere along the way I decided they looked much more interesting meeting diagonally in the centre.

I’d been hanging onto this fabric since the pandemic. Back then I was making a lot of masks and generally spending more time sewing, and I had accumulated quite a collection of Alexia’s fabrics because I absolutely loved what she was doing (and still do!). Looking back, I think her work was one of the things that nudged me back to surface pattern design. Seeing someone create fabrics that felt so distinctive and personal got me thinking about designing my own patterns for clothing, bags, and other sewn projects like I had done when I was in school.

Making the skirt felt a little like making a quilt and a garment at the same time. I drafted the pattern myself, which involved a fair amount of measuring, remeasuring, and crossing my fingers.

It’s definitely not perfect, but I like it, and I learned a lot in the process. I also discovered that if I want the inside to look as good as the outside, I’m probably going to have to learn how to use a serger. That is future Meli’s problem.

Musically, I’ve been listening to Billianne’s new EP this week and really enjoying it. If you’ve been paying attention, you know I always love a good singer-songwriter, and these songs have been keeping me company while I’ve been sewing, writing applications, and commuting to and from work.

That’s about it from my corner of the world this week. Teaching, dogs, skirts, applications, music, and the arrival of sandal season.

Thanks for reading as always!

Meli.

I’ve been teaching all week, which always takes over more than it looks like it should on paper, and even with a break on Tuesday evening and a bit of time to meet a friend on Wednesday, it still felt like there wasn’t much space between things, just small pauses which mostly consisted of sleeping each night.

In the middle of that I’ve been getting ready for an upcoming exhibition at Gallery 1065 called World Pup, opening June 11. It’s a group show where all the artwork features dogs, and people are encouraged to bring their own doggie friends along. The work will be hung at dog height, which is a pretty brilliant decision, although I suspect most visitors will spend at least half their time looking at the dogs instead of the artwork, and I’m including myself in that group!

I will have one piece in the show, a painting of my dog Lucky, which feels exciting and fun to me. I plan to go to the opening with a friend, who might bring her dog with us. Lucky is busy that night (she’s also pretty reactive so she’ll enjoy chilling at home more than attending).

At the same time I’ve been deep in thinking about and writing a call for artists application, which has been taking up most of the leftover mental space this week, the kind of thing where you think you’re just editing a few lines and then suddenly it’s much later than you thought and you’ve rewritten the same paragraph in five different ways, each one shifting how you understand your own practice depending on the angle you’re looking at it from. It’s my first time applying to something like this, so there’s a nerve wracking aspect to it, but it has also been cool, because having to write things out in a cohesive way without using too many words but still actually communicating the range of what I do, has made me feel more certain in the fact that it does all belong together, even if my work moves across drawing, metals, pattern, and anything in between.

At home, we (mostly my husband and neighbour) finally finished building the fence and filling the bin in the backyard (see photo of my husband standing on pieces of our old fence), so Lucky has her space back again, and she’s been moving through it like she’s re-mapping it, slow sniffing around, pausing in places like she’s checking if anything has changed since she last had full access.

I’ve had Yebba’s recent album on repeat all week.

I saw her last Saturday at The Danforth Music Hall with a couple of friends. The show was good, if a little uneven in lighting, and she seemed fairly introverted on stage, or maybe just not fully at ease. I know that feeling from the performing side, of having to perform or teach when you’re not feeling entirely steady, sometimes your body still does what it needs to do while part of you is elsewhere, wanting to fold inward a bit but continuing anyway because that’s what the moment requires.

It wasn’t a negative thing to watch, it just made me think about how much work performance can be whether it feels or appears effortless in the moment or not, and I still really enjoyed the music itself.

The opener (and one of Yebba’s background singers!), Astyn Turr, was also really memorable, especially her cover of Everybody Wants to Rule the World, which I’ve shared a short clip of. That song is also my mum’s ringtone for when she calls me, so hearing it live in a concert had a positive connotation for me.

That’s mostly what this week has felt like - everything sitting on top of everything else, teaching, applications, exhibitions, backyard logistics, music, and small personal threads that move through all of it without needing to resolve into anything tidy (thankfully I’m okay with messy).

Back to finishing up my application. It’s not due for a couple of weeks yet, but I’m hoping to have a few friends look it over before I submit it, so I’m trying to get a solid draft finished now and leave myself some time for revisions.

Thanks for reading!

Meli

I just realized it’s been two weeks since I posted here, which somehow feels like a long time but also only about four minutes.

Last week I met up with my friends , and in Kensington to draw for a few hours and it felt really good for my brain. We sat on a patio (the first nice day of spring!) at Pamenar with sketchbooks, cider, and cookies I had made at home, and spent a few hours drawing and talking while the neighbourhood buzzed around us.

One of my favourite things has become sitting with other creative people with no agenda besides making things and noticing things. Storefronts, passing dogs, weird signs, women reading books, tiny colour combinations you want to remember forever.

After that we wandered to another spot for a quick bite before I biked home in a dreamy and creatively refilled state that only comes from spending time with good art friends.

Meanwhile, at home our driveway currently looks like a small home renovation reality show. My husband and our neighbour are tearing out a 30-year-old fence and rebuilding it, so there’s now a giant construction bin parked outside our house that is becoming the visual theme of my week.

Yesterday I was walking from yard to bin throwing random little pieces of wood and debris into the far back corner of the bin while occasionally shouting “cornhole!” when I landed one. If you watch the show Shrinking, you’ll understand. Brian (played by Michael Urie on the show) planted that seed in my brain and now apparently this is who I am. And honestly, it felt good to say it, haha.

Physical work is grounding when your brain feels cluttered. Creative work can feel foggy sometimes. You wander around inside ideas for weeks. But fence demolition is extremely clear - Old fence gone → new fence starts to go up -> wood goes in bin → successful cornhole shot celebrated.

I like thinking about how inspiration usually sneaks back in sideways for me. Through music, long bike rides home, conversations with friends, drawing badly for a while, sitting in cafés and even through throwing wood into bins like and feeling like a shot put athlete, lol.

I’ve also been slowly working away on a new painting based on a back alley scene from when I lived above a store on Queen West around 10 years ago. It has a scrappy Toronto feeling that I’m always nostalgic for. And I recently got a piece accepted into a gallery show, which I’m pretty excited about! I’ll share more details about it once the opening gets closer.

Today I found this song while making a playlist of songs to check out for next year’s calendar playlists and I’m feeling it. The video is really fun!:

Thanks for reading. More tarot art and music coming soon.

Thanks!
Meli

A few songs have been following me around lately in a pretty specific sequence, so I thought I’d share them along with some pages from my 100 day project. This week I passed the 75 day mark!

On the bike ride to work I’ve been listening to All I Ever Asked by Rachel Chinouriri pretty much on repeat. It has a combo of forward-motion energy and optimism and makes biking through traffic while trying not to get flattened by another vehicle a bit easier (while listening on one headphone pretty quietly, lol). It makes my morning ride start out charged instead of sleepy.

Then once I’m at the studio and the torch is going and everyone’s settling into their projects, I’ve been putting on Coats by Aldous Harding and Stay by Leith Ross. Both tracks feel a little weird but also tender and I love them.

I’ve been continuing to work on the 100 day project pieces and started working on some small floral studies for BSA Club’s May Flowers and have been enjoying making spreads of three little vignettes every 3 days in my Royal Talens sketchbook. (Plus a preview of the next few days bc I couldn’t stop myself from making them!)

I would love to know what everyone else has been listening to lately! Share in the comments if you like.

Hope everyone has a nice weekend!

Meli.

Two people, holding each other in the middle of a field. A guitar leaning against them. Train tracks stretch off in the distance but they’re not going anywhere - at least not right now.

This is my Lovers card, and it’s (again) probably not what you’d expect.

Traditionally, The Lovers is about love, sure, but it’s also about choice, alignment, and moments when something actually matters and you have to meet it honestly.

I didn’t want to depict something overly romantic or performative. As a teen reading tarot cards for the first time, that’s exactly what I thought this card meant! But now I see it differently. There’s no dramatic eye contact, no angels, no “look at us”- just two people holding each other close in their own quiet, private moment.

To me, this card is about choosing each other, choosing to stay and choosing connection even when things feel uncertain.

The guitar ended up there almost without thinking, but it feels important. It’s not being played, yet it carries weight - like a third presence or a shared language. Maybe it’s the thing that brought them together, or what keeps them connected. Maybe it’s witnessed everything they’ve been through together. I was listening to Joni Mitchell’s very first album A Song to a Seagull while painting, and that dreamy, floating vibe definitely snuck into the card too.

The landscape matters here too - open sky and grassy fields, mountains in the distance - and those tracks off to the side. It’s grounded, real, like a place they’ve stopped for a moment. The tracks suggest movement, direction, maybe even leaving - but they’re not following them. For now they’ve chosen to stay here.

The more I sat with this card, it became about being open, letting yourself be changed, and holding all of yourself without separating parts out. The connection isn’t just between two people it’s also to yourself, to where you are, and to the world around you.

It’s bringing to mind Arlo Parks’ lyric from South Seconds - “yeah you know that I’m scared, I’m scared of love but I try to trust we want the same things.” That tension of being scared but still opening up is exactly what this card is holding. And there’s a mix of reflection, surrender and love underneath it all, holding us up and holding us accountable to one another.

This card isn’t about falling in love. It’s about what happens when you stop resisting connection and let it change you.

What’s your take on The Lovers? Do you feel it’s about romance, choice, or something else entirely? Let me know in the comments - I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks for reading as always!

Meli

I’ve been thinking about a stretch of time when I was living and touring with my band. There were five of us in a house, four guys and me. It was chaotic, creative, occasionally exhausting, and also kind of magic. When you live that close to the music (and to each other), everything hits a little deeper.

This video was filmed on the front porch of that Delaware house by Mitch Filion of Southern Souls. No stage, no separation - just us, figuring it out in real time.

Being the only woman in the band had many layers. I loved it, I learned a lot, and I’m proud of what we made. But there were also moments where I felt a bit outnumbered and a bit quieter than I wanted to be. Which is funny, because my voice literally cut through in our four-part harmonies. Still, there’s a difference between being heard and feeling fully seen.

I remember how much it meant, back then, to come across other women in bands. Even just a glimpse - on a lineup, on a stage - felt like a small signal flare. Like, oh good, it’s not just me. We’re out here. That feeling stayed with me, especially in the quieter moments too - writing songs alone in my room or out in the garage, trying to find my own voice inside all of it.

I think that experience stuck with me more than I realized. It’s part of why I care so much now about celebrating and making space for women in music - and in creative work in general. I touched on my time at “Delaware House” in my November painting post, which is all about that quieter, in-between energy and the role music played in it:

Lately I’ve been deep in teaching mode and haven’t had much time for my tarot project, but revisiting this era feels like a quiet nudge back into it. That same mix of intuition, tension, and atmosphere is exactly what I’m trying to hold onto in the tarot work.

Hoping to get back to the drawing table today and see what shows up.

thanks!

Meli

This morning I found myself in full calendar-reshuffling mode - I’ve rejigged my 2026 calendar to work as a school year version, so it now runs from July 2026 through June 2027.

If you’re someone who mentally starts fresh in the fall or would like a July start, you can check it out by clicking here! Below is the cottage-y scene from July’s guitar woman.

On Thursday I went to the One of a Kind Show here in Toronto (a huge Canadian maker’s market that happens twice a year) and it completely inspired me. There’s something about being in a room full of people who are making things, selling them, standing behind them and talking about them that makes the whole idea of doing a booth someday feel very real and very possible.

Some standout artists for me:

• Art Van Leeuwen

• Janine Payne

• Christina McKenzie

• Bark Woodshop

• Archerade (by my lovely coworker, Sasha Oda!)

I’ve also had a bunch of people asking about my scarves lately, which makes me so happy because I love how they turned out. I was wearing my Grantchester Meadows (based on the Pink Floyd song) scarf at the One of a Kind show and a few people at asked me where I bought it… which felt like a very good sign. If you want to see that one, it’s right here! It’s also available in a couple of other colours and sizes. The photo below is my original colour-way in the 30”x 30” size.

The scarves are one of those pieces that started as a drawing and then became something you can actually wear, which still feels a bit magical to me.

The rest of my weekend was spent in the studio teaching two wedding band workshops on Saturday and Sunday, which always feels like being invited into a meaningful moment in people’s lives. Some really sweet couples making rings for each other - no big deal 🥲

And in between all of that, while I bike in the cold to and from work, I’ve been listening to Raye’s new album, which is wow. Big voice, big feelings, a little bit devastating in places.

Here’s a track if you want to hear what I mean:

That’s a little snapshot from my corner of the world this week. More soon, and I’ve got a few new tarot things waiting in the wings so stay tuned.

thanks!

Meli

I haven’t shared a playlist in a while, and I’ve been thinking about some of the songs I’ve been listening to lately, so I thought I’d share them with you.

The past few weeks have been full. I was doing a tarot card a day for a while and started to feel a bit overwhelmed keeping up with it alongside everything else, so I shifted gears and decided to focus on colour studies for the 100 Day Project instead, and just work on the tarot cards when I have the time. I wrote about this a couple of weeks ago, too, but am repeating it here in case you missed it.

(Below are a few of my colour studies - I’ve been doing them for the past couple of weeks and they’ve been really fun (and a nice change of pace).

These three songs have actually helped me move through that shift. It’s a short list that move through a feeling. I’ve been thinking of it like a spark → tension → release. One song leads into the next and shifts something in you, even if it’s subtle.

These are for when you feel a bit stuck creatively.

1. The Spark/Chispa - “West Memphis” by Yebba

There’s a line in this that really gets me: “What’s realer than the part of you that you don’t even claim?”

That feels like a starting point. Not trying to be better or more polished, just noticing what’s actually there. The part you’ve ignored a bit, or the part that doesn’t fit neatly into who you think you are now.

The song itself isn’t pushy or overly emotional, but it’s clear and it cuts through the noise.

I also love how Yebba sidesteps what people expect from her. It leans more folk/rootsy than R&B or soul, and that choice feels like part of the message. You don’t have to stay inside the version of yourself that makes the most sense to other people.

(Also I’m seeing Yebba in May and I’m very excited about it!)

2. The Tension - “Reverie” by Snail Mail

Then comes that slightly uncomfortable middle.

This song feels like being dropped into a room where you’re expected to play along with something that doesn’t quite sit right. “VIP coming through / look alive…” - there’s this pressure to make space for someone who’s decided they matter more than everyone else.

And then: “met a guy so far up his own ass / I gotta laugh to keep from crying” It’s funny, but also kind of bleak. Like, is this really what we’re doing?

The chorus flips it though: “But I could do it all the time with you… from our castle in the clouds the planet looks so small”

Two realities. The outside one that feels performative and a bit hollow, and then this smaller, real one that actually matters.

Creatively, this is that gap between what gets attention and what actually feels right to you. The song doesn’t resolve the tension, it just let it exist.

3. The Release - “Seabird” by Ellie O’Neill

And then this one opens things up a bit.

“I will never be the right kind of girl…” and “Learn to sing like a wild seabird…” They are such simple lines, but they feel like permission. Not to get it right but to make sound and to be unconfined.

This isn’t a dramatic breakthrough, it’s a loosening, a softening. The kind where you might pick something up and start, even if it’s messy or incomplete.

A sketch, a few lines, playing around with something. Nothing major, but you’re moving again.

If you want to try it, just listen to the songs in order and don’t do anything else at the same time. See if anything shifts, even a little.

I’ve been thinking about doing more of these in a slightly deeper way with tarot and prompts as a kind of monthly reset, so this is maybe a bit of a preview of that. Let me know if this resonated with you and let me know if there are any songs that get you creating these days.

Meli.

This is my Hierophant and she’s not exactly what you’d expect.

Traditionally, The Hierophant represents institutions, organized belief systems, and the passing down of knowledge through established structures. He’s a teacher, a guide, someone who initiates others into a shared way of thinking or being. There’s a sense of tradition. Of “this is how it’s done.”

So naturally, I made mine an older punk!

She’s anti-establishment, subversive, and probably spent a good part of her life pushing back against the very systems this card is usually associated with. At first, it feels like a contradiction. But the more I sat with it, the more it made sense because punk has its own structure. It has codes, visual language, and lineage. There’s history there, passed down through music, community, zines, and shared spaces.

I’ve been reading Girls to the Front by Sara Marcus, and it’s been sitting in the back of my mind while working on this card. The book highlights how knowledge and power moved through the Riot Grrrl scene. Older women sharing ideas, experiences, and encouragement with younger ones, often outside of traditional systems entirely like handmade zines and onstage during their shows. It’s not organized in the same way as religion or institutions, but it still teaches. It still initiates. And it is very intentional about bringing women and girls to the forefront of a movement, asserting their right to be there loud and proud.

So my Hierophant exists within that world.

She’s older, experienced, and sitting slightly elevated above two younger figures who are listening to her. That’s a direct nod to the Rider-Waite-Smith composition, the teacher and the two followers, but here it feels more like a conversation. Maybe someone speaking between sets or after a show. For the young initiates, it’s a moment where something clicks and you realize you’ve found your people.

In my card, the setting is a graffiti-covered stage wall (plan to add more to this!) instead of a cathedral. Symbols layered into it: anarchy, feminist imagery, belief systems, but not the traditional kind. The guitar and amp take the place of religious objects. Music becomes the ritual. It’s the way in, even if you can’t play yet. Many of the first female bands of the ’90s Riot Grrrl era proved you don’t have to know how to play. You figure it out while shouting what you need to say.

I kept a few smaller details to tie her back to the traditional Hierophant. She wears a cross necklace like the Rider-Waite-Smith version as a visual anchor. But she also has a “riot grrl” tattoo across her knuckles and a set of keys tattooed on her arm, symbols of access, of unlocking something, of maybe having been on both sides of the door.

That’s where this version of the Hierophant really landed for me. She’s not tearing down structure entirely. She’s just part of a different one. She teaches, yes, but what she teaches is how to question, how to think for yourself, and how to exist outside of the mainstream while still finding community.

There’s also a quiet tension there. At one point she was the rebel. Now she’s the one passing things down. It makes me wonder where the line is between rebellion and tradition, and how easily one can become the other over time.

It also feels like an interesting contrast to The Emperor in my deck, the industry figure, the one holding power within the system. This Hierophant exists just outside of that, shaping culture in a different way. Passing knowledge hand to hand instead of from the top down.

Overall, I really love the energy here. It feels unexpected, yet still rooted enough in the original meaning that it holds together. And it definitely feels more accessible to me than the traditional papal figure of most tarot decks.

I’d love to know what you think. Does she still feel like a Hierophant to you?

Next up: The Lovers and The Chariot. Both make a bit of a departure from the traditional motifs, but isn’t that what making your own deck is all about? I’m loving reinterpreting the details to form my own language, and I hope you’re enjoying being along for the ride.

Thanks for following along,

Meli

I wanted to wait to finish this article until I had finished painting The Hierophant so I could do the same compare/contrast that I did with The Empress and The High Priestess, but time has been against me lately. I’ve found very little of it to work on my tarot cards beyond my notes app and voice notes, where I describe ideas as they come to me and revisit them later. I haven’t done much painting at all in the last week or so.

Wellll… that’s not entirely true. I did finally finish painting The Emperor!

I had inked it at the start of March but wasn’t feeling it, so as you know if you’ve been following along, I got sidetracked making the Ten of Pentacles and Ten of Swords. I’m really proud of finishing those and happy with how they turned out (see below for photos of each suit).

Back to The Emperor.

The Emperor in my deck is a woman. I’ve mentioned this before, but the whole deck represents women of all kinds, similar to one of my favourite current decks ( So Lazo’s Rainbow Tarot, see more below). Since my theme is Women in Music / Women & Guitars, it felt right - and important - to centre women in these traditionally male roles.

(A quick plug - I love So Lazo’s deck for a lot of reasons. I followed along as they shared bits and pieces of it over the years, and when it was finally complete I bought it right away. Their character work and colour choices are incredible, and I especially love how they represent a wide spectrum of identities - women of different races, body types, and gender expressions all existing fully within the deck. It feels expansive and real.

Their work definitely played a role in nudging me toward making my own tarot deck. I actually have their World card printed out and taped up on my studio wall, which feels like a quiet little reminder of what’s possible and I own their Strength t-shirt which I wear a lot!)

Traditionally, The Emperor is a masculine figure representing authority, leadership, structure, protection, and the claiming of space. He’s a ruler archetype - steady, decisive, and grounded in the material world.

When I first wrote down who my Emperor was, this is what came to mind: she’s an older record exec in a boardroom. She’s been through the musician’s journey herself and has come out the other side after fighting the good fight (because, let’s be honest, doing music professionally has its ups and downs). Now she’s guiding new talent into the industry. She holds authority, but it’s informed authority - she knows exactly what it’s like to be on the other side.

Visually, I still look to the Rider-Waite-Smith deck as my anchor for symbolism and composition. It’s the deck I know best, and I like having that thread running through my work even as I reinterpret it.

One detail I wanted to include was the ram’s head, which appears in the RWS Emperor and connects to Aries, the sign associated with this card. I noticed there are four ram heads in that image, which led me down a small rabbit hole about the number four. Not only is The Emperor the fourth card in the Major Arcana, but four also represents structure, stability, and foundation in the material world, all very Emperor energy.

So I carried that into my piece by including four framed platinum records in the background. They speak to both structure and success that is earned, not accidental.

From there, I layered in details to build out her world: a guitar to show she once played (and maybe still does), a bookcase, a folder and coffee on the table, and her hand resting on a laptop. She’s fully embedded in both the creative and business sides of music. There’s also a blurred cityscape outside the window - secretly the Toronto skyline, because I had to sneak my city in there somehow.

And then, of course, the look. I wanted her to feel powerful but not predictable. She has grey hair—she’s seasoned and not hiding it. The pink suit bucks expectations a bit, and the red top and boots add a bit of tension and confidence. It’s an unmistakable power suit.

Overall, I’m really pleased with how The Emperor turned out. She feels grounded, experienced, and in control in a way that isn’t forceful.

What do you think? What does she say to you?

Up next: I’m almost ready to ink The Hierophant. I finished the digital sketch this morning, and The Lovers are on deck after that.

Thanks for following along as always!

Meli

Maybe it was a bit foolish of me to think that I could paint something charged with meaning every day while teaching five days a week and, you know, also doing all the life stuff that has to be done from day to day. Meal prepping, sleep, taking care of my pup when I’m home, and spending time with my husband, while also keeping up with friends and family. Okay, yeah, it was a bit unrealistic to think that I could do it all. So today I changed my tack a little and decided to make some colourful art with lines and no end goal, and I really loved it. I think this is more to the point of the 100 Day Project and more in line with what I did last year, which was my first year of the project.

Regardless of all of this, I’m proud of the nine Swords cards that I’ve completed thus far, and I thought I would show them here in a post instead of the notes that I’ve been posting daily. I know some of you are reading this over email and don’t see the notes here on Substack!

Over the creation of the cards I’ve made so far, I’ve really thought about 1) how I can make these cards unique while still carrying the echo of the original meanings, and 2) how to weave them into my theme of Women in Music. Last week I posted about the suit of Pentacles and explained how they came to be represented by guitar pedals. The idea to represent the Swords as band t-shirts came to me late one night before bed as I pondered how I could make Swords cards that didn’t just involve a bunch of swords on each card, that sounded boring to me, without having too much figurative work in there. As you will see, some of the cards do have figurative elements, but I felt they suited the cards in those cases, so I decided to keep them that way. Who hasn’t had a band t-shirt with a person on it?

I also decided that the band t-shirts would each have a genre of music associated with them and thought it would be cool to come up with unique names that related back to the meaning of the cards themselves. So I did just that! Here are the Ace to Five, and then below the Six to Nine, with brief explanations of the meaning of each card.

Ace of Swords
A moment of clarity. A sharp truth cutting through the noise and offering a new way forward. (late 2000s Indie Rock)

Two of Swords
Indecision and avoidance. Sitting between two choices and not quite ready to face either one. (Shoegaze/Dream Pop)

Three of Swords
Heartbreak, plain and simple. The sting of loss, grief, or emotional pain that can’t be ignored. (Emo)

Four of Swords
Rest and retreat. Taking a step back to recover, reflect, and regain some mental space. (Slowcore)

Five of Swords
Conflict and tension. Winning at a cost, or realizing that not every battle is worth it. (Punk/Post Punk)

Six of Swords
Moving on. A transition away from something difficult toward calmer, steadier ground. (Indie Folk)

Seven of Swords
Secrecy and strategy. Acting behind the scenes, sometimes out of necessity, sometimes out of fear. (Experimental Electronic)

Eight of Swords
Feeling trapped. Being caught in limiting thoughts or situations that feel impossible to escape. (Art Pop/Experimental Rock)

Nine of Swords
Anxiety and overthinking. The kind of worry that creeps in at night and won’t let you rest. (Gothic Rock)

The Swords are traditionally not the most positive looking cards and tend toward the fatalistic or tragic, but they live in the realm of thought and intellect. I feel like they more often reflect our inner voice than actual things that happen to us, which is kind of a relief, especially considering how dire they can look. I’m talking to you, Three and Ten!

To me, this suit is less about what’s happening around us and more about how we’re processing it. The stories we tell ourselves, the spirals we get stuck in, the clarity we sometimes fight our way toward. They can be heavy, but they’re also honest, and there is something useful in that.

I have drawn out the Ten of Swords in Procreate and hope to transfer it to paper this week and paint it later in the week so I will update the post once I’m done for posterity - It’s a Metal band. Thanks for reading and for being here!

Meli.

If you didn’t catch the earlier post where I explained why I chose guitar pedals as the visual language for the Pentacles suit, you can read that here.

The short version is that Pentacles deal with the material side of life - work, craft, skill, resources, and the slow building of something tangible. Guitar pedals felt like a natural metaphor for that world. They’re tools that shape sound - small pieces of equipment that quietly influence the final result.

To keep the traditional symbolism present, I placed the pentacles on the knobs and controls of each pedal. The pedal itself then represents the action or energy of the card.

At this point I’ve completed the ten numbered Pentacles cards, with the court cards still to come.

Here’s how the suit is shaping up so far:

Ace – Clean Boost - A spark of potential. The clean boost lifts your signal, revealing the power that was already there.

Two – Loop Pedal - Balance in motion. Layers rise and fall as the looper keeps the rhythm of creation turning.

Three – Chorus Pedal - Harmony through collaboration. The chorus multiplies your voice, building something richer than one line alone.

Four – Compressor Pedal - Control and stability. The compressor holds the signal steady, preserving every note with quiet discipline.

Five – Glitch Pedal - Fracture and uncertainty. The glitch pedal breaks the signal apart, beauty emerging from disruption.

Six – Effects Loop - Exchange and balance. The effects loop shares the signal outward and returns it transformed.

Seven – Delay - Patience and reflection. Each note echoes forward, rewarding time and careful listening.

Eight – Overdrive / Workhorse - Dedication to craft. The overdrive shapes tone through steady effort and daily work.

Nine – High-End Reverb - Refined abundance. The reverb surrounds your sound with space, luxury, and independence.

Ten – Dual Drive - Legacy built in layers. Two drives combine within one foundation, stacking strength into lasting tone.

Working on these cards has been a really satisfying way to think about Pentacles through the lens of music and gear. The suit feels very much about the practice of making things - learning your tools, refining your sound, and slowly building something solid over time.

Next up I’ve been working on the suit of Swords, which are represented by band t-shirts! I’ll explain more on how that came about in a future post!

Thanks again for following along!

Meli.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how differently these two energies move now that I’ve completed both of these card paintings.

The High Priestess, for me, is the moment after the show. Backstage, it’s finally quiet but the sound is still ringing in her ears. The amps are no longer humming, the crowd has gone home, yet something lingers in the air. She sits between expression and introspection, in that thin veil where what has been seen meets what is still unseen.

She represents trusting the pause. The privacy of thought. The kind of wisdom that doesn’t need to announce itself or explain itself. There’s authority there, but it’s earned quietly.

The Empress feels different.

She is rooted in her home, but moving fluidly through life. There is nothing contained about her. She is creative origin - the fertile force from which ideas emerge before they are shaped by systems, contracts, or gatekeepers.

She is the artist in the flow before anyone asks for a strategy.

Her power is soft but undeniable. There’s magnetism there. Sensual intelligence. Emotional literacy. She trusts her body as much as her mind. Creation doesn’t feel forced - it feels natural, cyclical, embodied.

If the High Priestess holds the quiet wisdom that lives behind the veil, the Empress lives in the visible world - allowing what is inside her to take form.

Both are powerful. They just move differently.

As I’ve been painting these cards, I’ve started thinking more intentionally about how I want to approach the rest of the Major Arcana in pairs. I’ve begun painting The Emperor and have planned out The Hierophant, though I’m still finalizing the sketches on that one (think: a badass aging punk woman passing her wisdom down to the younger generation).

I’m interested in exploring a similar compare and contrast there - something that touches on what we could call divine feminine and divine masculine energies.

In this deck, if you haven’t noticed already, they will all be represented by women. It feels important to me to show that these archetypal forces aren’t confined to gender. They’re creative energies we move through.

This project is unfolding slowly. I’m fitting it into the snippets of time I have, and I was lucky enough to have a few focused days with it this past weekend. I’m learning as I go.

I’m grateful you’re here while it takes shape!

Melisas

Initially, I thought I would finish all of the Major Arcana and then tackle the minors. But with the start of the #the100dayproject, I wanted to narrow my daily practice to something more manageable.

Enter the Minor Arcana.

At first, I began painting cups, thinking I would move through the Suit of Cups slowly collecting paintings of my favourite vessels at home and at work. I still plan to do this. But then I started thinking about how guitar pedals might work as the Suit of Pentacles.

I didn’t want to omit pentacle imagery altogether, and I definitely didn’t love the idea of painting ten nearly identical guitar pedals for the Ten of Pentacles. It felt repetitive and a little uninspiring. I also wanted each card’s meaning to relate to the type of pedal, and having multiple pedals per card (beyond the Ace) started to feel cluttered.

Then I had the idea to place the pentacles by numbered card on the knobs of each pedal - and that was it. I had to start immediately.

I tend to work best like that. Strike while the iron is hot, for better or worse.

So here I am a couple of days later - after multiple note-taking sessions and a surprising amount of research (I’m not a gear head by any means, and I’ve been in bands and around enough pedal boards to know roughly what these things do but I needed to make sure my symbolism would hold true) and I’ve finished the Ace and the Two of Pentacles. The Three is inked in and ready to paint later today. The Four is roughed out in Procreate. The Five has a very loose pencil drawing.

The Two of Pentacles, represented as a loop pedal, feels especially fitting - adding and refining layers, responding to what’s already there. It mirrors the larger theme of this deck: how creatives navigate art and livelihood at the same time, always adjusting and adapting.

It feels like the Pentacles suit is officially underway.

I’m not giving myself a strict timeline, but I hope to complete all 78 cards over the next 10–12 months. After that, I plan to print the full deck and do a small run.

Women in Music is something I care deeply about. Even if I’m not actively pursuing my own musical career right now, I want this deck to exist as a reflective tool for creatives - especially those building a life around their art.

This project isn’t about predicting outcomes. It’s about expanding meaning. It’s about visibility, creative risk, balancing practicality with intuition, and continuing to make things even when the path feels uncertain because we must create to feel alive.

So here I am, at the beginning of something I’m genuinely excited about.

I hope you’ll enjoy following along!

Meli.

I’ve been watching a documentary called Pink Floyd: In Their Own Words today and enjoying it immensely.

There’s something about hearing artists reflect on their early days, their experiments, their awkward interviews and half-formed ideas. At one point I went down a YouTube rabbit hole and found this old clip where an interviewer tells them he thinks they might be… too loud. Imagine saying that to Pink Floyd with a straight face! The band just sits there, slightly amused, defends the loudness and stay fully themselves.

It made me laugh. And it also made me weirdly emotional because I’ve been thinking about how their music shaped the way I draw. Not in a fan-girl way. Not in a poster-on-the-wall way. More like a current that’s been running under everything for years.

When I studied metalsmithing and surface pattern design at OCAD, I didn’t consciously think, I am designing like a 60s psychedelic band. But repetition was already in my bones. Repetition in their music, the way a bassline circles, the way a lyric returns slightly altered, the way a sound expands and contracts and expands again. That is repeat pattern design! A motif. A shift. A variation. A loop that, if you’re successful in your repeat, feels alive instead of mechanical.

Songs like Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun feel like pattern to me. Layered, rhythmic and hypnotic. You don’t just listen to them. You enter them.

And then there’s Grantchester Meadows. The pastoral English softness. The birds and the barking of the dog fox. The quiet and the space between notes. That song is basically an atmosphere. When I made my Grantchester Meadows pattern collection in 2024, I wasn’t illustrating the lyrics. I was chasing that feeling. The meadow as mood. The hush. The melancholy that isn’t heavy, it just thoughtful.

Psychedelia, too, has always given me permission to loosen up. The Floyd’s early work is strange and abstract and not always tidy. That looseness absolutely shows up in my linework. The swirls. The slightly off-kilter shapes. The willingness to let something be dreamy or wonky instead of precise.

And I love that tension they hold so well, the melancholy and the brightness sitting side by side. A song can feel sunlit and lonely at the same time like in the song Fat Old Sun. That duality is something I reach for constantly in colour. I don’t want everything to be cheerful. I don’t want everything to be dark. I want that in-between space where both can exist in harmony with each other.

I was lucky enough to visit The Pink Floyd Exhibition: Their Mortal Remains when it toured through town a couple of years ago. Seeing handwritten lyrics, stage props, the physical artifacts of something that feels almost mythic brought it all back to earth. It reminded me that this massive cultural force started with people experimenting in rooms, trying things, being told they were too loud. There’s something comforting about that.

Music has always had a hand in steering the wheel for me. Even when I pivoted to metalsmithing. Even when I’m teaching on a given week and barely have time to paint. The soundtrack is always there. It informs the rhythm of my pen. The density of a pattern. The way I build a repeat so it feels like it’s breathing instead of marching.

I made a playlist of my favourite Pink Floyd songs, the ones that continue to colour my work and my thinking. It’s not a “greatest hits.” It’s more of a wander especially through their earlier years with Syd Barrett which is my favourite time of Pink Floyd’s different eras. I’ll link it below if you feel like disappearing into it for a bit.

Meli’s Pink Floyd Mix

Because that’s the thing - we return to certain music not just because it’s good, but because it becomes part of how we see. It shapes our internal landscape. It changes the our thoughts and informs our feelings.

Art echoes across mediums. Sound becomes shape. A guitar line becomes a curve. A lyric becomes a motif. A drum pattern becomes a repeat tile.

And years later, you’re sitting on your couch watching a documentary and realizing that what some thought was just background music was actually a blueprint for creation.

I’d love to know if there is a band that shaped the way you see things?

Thanks for being here and for reading as always!

Meli.

Since the beginning of January I’ve been back to teaching six jewellery workshops a week, which has been energizing and also very energy consuming. A lot of my time lately has gone into showing up for students, planning, adjusting, holding space for their projects.

It means there’s been a little less painting than I’d like!

I have been working in small pockets though. I’ve started my long-term tarot project, which I’m excited to share more about soon. And I’ve been making a few small portrait-sized pieces of everyday scenes. Quiet studies. I posted one last week of some wool-socked feet propped up on a radiator and looking out a window to a snowy street below with an I❤️TO mug.

One more thing I did make time for was turning the Zodiac Women & Guitars series into prints.

The originals are small, 6×8, and still very new so I’m not ready to part with them yet. But I wanted the work to exist in another form.

I chose giclée printing so the colour and detail would hold up. They’re available in 8×12 and 12×18. I’m partial to the 12×18 because it gives the image more space to breathe, but the 8×12 feels intimate and easy to place.

If one of the women ever resonated with you and you’d like one for your space, the prints are here in my Etsy shop.

I’m also considering making prints of my calendar guitar women. If that’s something you’d want to see, let me know!

I’m lucky to be off this weekend for a long weekend and plan to work on more paintings & celebrate Galentine’s with a couple of lovely gals - my partner and I have our dating anniversary on the 15th and will go out then instead! I hope you get a little space for something that feels like yours this weekend.

Thanks for reading!
Meli