From Ontario to Victoria, Atlin to Whitehorse — Meshell Mervin’s path as an artist has been shaped by movement, discovery, and community. Her creative spark was first lit at 19 while traveling in Kenya, when she painted a Baobab tree and realized she had found something she never wanted to stop doing. Since then, she’s spent more than 35 years honing her practice, finding her voice in collage, textiles, and embroidery.
Now based in the Yukon, Meshell draws inspiration from the North’s landscapes and people, weaving layers of story and texture into her work. This fall, her art will be showcased at the Yukon Arts Centre Gallery as one of the six finalists in the Yukon Prize 2025 exhibition which runs from September 11 to November 14 — a chance to see her vision come alive on gallery walls.
Continue reading to learn more about Meshell’s journey, her inspirations, and the art that has shaped her life.
You’ve worked with textiles, animation, portraiture, and now laser cutting. What keeps you curious to explore new tools and mediums?
There’s always a spark, an idea that pulls me in. I remember taking an animation workshop and just being fascinated on how incredible would it be to see my images move. I saved up for a camera and software, and though it’s been about 15 years since then, I still think about the way animation plays with images whenever I paint. I call animation my “mid-career crisis.” Now with the laser cutter, I see possibilities of returning to animation someday — the cutouts make it easier to explore that movement again.
What does your studio look like when you’re in full creative mode? Organized chaos or calm sanctuary?
Definitely organized chaos. It goes in cycles. Before I started this project, I spent months cleaning my studio, putting everything in its place. But once the ideas start flowing, I just dive in, and before I know it, things are piling up everywhere. I work with so many different materials, so the mess is really just part of the process.
Your Yukon Prize finalist pieces are stunning — what’s the story behind Invocation to the Chinook of Chu Niikwan?
There was an artist residency in Whitehorse called Chu Niikwan, which was a partnership between the Yukon Arts Centre, Arts Underground, and the Kwanlin Dün Cultural Centre. “Chu Niikwan” is the Southern Tutchone name word for the Yukon River. I had this idea of a migration of Chinook. It’s an environmental piece, rooted in my grief for what’s happening to salmon in the rivers — and how that mirrors what’s happening to the planet.
I wanted to do something, it’s hard to feel so powerless. So I imagined creating these magic little fish that could guide the salmon home. It became a kind of prayer for their return. The installation includes about 800 small fish, each about 8 inches long with magnets on the back.
How has working with the laser cutter at Yukonstruct changed or expanded your art?
It’s been revolutionary — a very big change. At first I thought it would save me time, but really, it just changed the way I spend my time. With technology, some parts are faster, but others still demand attention and care. Laser cutting is so different from scissors. The fabric edges burn slightly, creating a whole new texture. It’s exciting because it opens up so many possibilities. And honestly, the supportive atmosphere at Yukonstruct makes a big difference too. The people are kind, and the services fit hand in hand with what I do.
Do you have a favorite piece you’ve ever made, or is that like asking you to choose a favorite child?
I’d say Shiva Kitchen Dance. It’s a portrait of me in the kitchen as Shiva — the boys were little, the kitchen was messy, and life was full. I made it in 1997 as part of an exhibition of portraits about my home and studio life. That one still feels really special.
What’s your go-to snack or ritual when you’re deep in a creative flow?
Lattes, for sure! And candied ginger. Though I had to cut back because of all the sugar. When I’m working, I sometimes forget to eat altogether, but there’s always coffee and water by my side.
If you weren’t an artist, what do you think you’d be doing?
Honestly, I can’t imagine doing anything else. When my kids were young, I thought that maybe in another lifetime I might have been a nurse or a teacher. Also, I’ve always been more of a “make” person than a “purchase” person — creating is what keeps me happy and keeps my mind healthy.
What’s the most Yukon thing about your art practice?
Back in B.C., I worked mostly with oil paints. But when I got pregnant, I needed to find a non-toxic medium — which was tricky. By the time I came to the Yukon, I discovered textiles. I saw an appliqué piece that looked like a painting, and I thought, what if I turned my paintings into fabric? That’s when my medium really shifted. The Yukon influenced that change, and it shaped the way I represent the land in my work. In my earlier pieces, you’ll even see a lot of cabin life woven in.
You’ve been creating for over 30 years — what keeps you inspired to keep going?
Curiosity, mostly. There’s also just a deep need to work. It keeps me healthy, especially for my mental well-being. The materials themselves inspire me too. With fabric, even scraps on the floor spark ideas when I see how they fit together. And with painting, I love the whole experience — being in the paint, even getting it all over me.
What’s one project or dream collaboration you’d love to do in the future?
While I was hand stitching delphiniums, I got to thinking: maybe I should bring my embroidery machine back into the process. I bought it back in ’95, but it was actually made in 1950. It’s a solid industrial machine that’s built to run. The fellow who sold it to me showed me how to handle basic repairs, so I’ve kept it oiled and tried not to do anything too foolish with it. Once I did get into trouble and had to call the sewing machine guy, but thankfully he talked me through fixing it over the phone. The beauty of this machine is that I can make it do whatever I want. Now I’d love to scale things up and really explore embroidery again — make it a bigger part of my work moving forward.
How do you hope people feel when they see your work for the first time?
I want them to feel something, anything. I hope they feel lifted in spirit and imagination, that they get curious and start to wonder. I hope they ask questions, look closely, maybe even get lost in it for a while.
Mountains or rivers for inspiration?
Both show up in my work, but rivers inspire me more. The flow, the sound, the constant change — you can’t stop a river.
What song would be on the playlist while you’re stitching or cutting away?
I used to listen to music, but I get too affected by it and spend way too much time trying to find the “right” song. About 10 years ago, I switched to audiobooks, and now they help me focus so much more.
Anything Else You’d Like to Share?
I really want to highlight how much I value Yukonstruct and the Makerspace. It has truly revolutionized my work. Honestly, I can’t imagine how else this could have happened for me if the space weren’t available. What’s happening there is such a genius idea, and I’m incredibly grateful to be associated with it. The resources, the support, the community — it’s an incredible gift for artists.
For more on my work, visit: Meshell Mervin – Yukon Prize and meshellmelvin.com
