19,000 screen-printed butterflies (out of her total 26,000) are suspended from the ceiling on a series of branches gathered by a local arborist. Of the fourteen times this show has been mounted, Monique Martin, creator of this sanctuary, points out that St. John’s has provided the best offering of branches she’s received yet, with Kelowna coming in second. There are twenty-six different types of butterflies in the room—all real species, except for three (pantone; glow-in-the-dark; and symphony, which features piano keys). Mostly monarchs, Martin says, as that’s the type she started this project with. Blue, pink, black, orange, yellow, white, turquoise, and many other colours also appear on the wings floating overhead. 

Other creatures that can be found silkscreened onto the floorcloth include beetles, ants, bees, ladybugs, frogs, toads, water striders, dragonflies, snakes, and the hint of a chipmunk’s presence—tiny footprints. Plants and other landscape features the on the mural include dandelions (yellow flowers; leaves; and the fluffy bits that come out once it’s gone to seed, both attached and floating), wild rose leaves, different types of grass, a stream, river rocks, stones, dirt, pine cones, pine needles, twigs, branches, bark, pieces of logs from felled trees, moss, lichens, lilies, and other flowers,berries, and plants I couldn’t identify. 

Each butterfly is held up by a magnet or attached to a wire. I find a rogue monarch on the floor that had fallen from a branch in the commotion of the opening. I picked up its delicate form in my hands and gently handed it to Martin’s partner, who casually magnetized it back onto the nearest wire above our heads. The butterflies are transported in sandwich bags, Martin tells us. It took them two-and-a-half days with ten people to install this show, and Martin highlighted the placement of shadows in her process. The Craft Council ceilings are a bit lower than some other galleries, so we have the unique opportunity, Martin tells us, to place a chair somewhere on the floorcloth and stand with our heads surrounded by butterflies. Naturally, I did this as soon as I was able. A feeling of calmness, taking a deep breath with the butterflies—what else could I possibly have to worry about with hundreds of wings hovering inches from my face? It takes you out of reality for a moment. I turn, and a butterfly appears over my shoulder, as if it has just taken off to float elsewhere in the room. 

Five out of the total fourteen panels of the floorcloth mural are featured at the Craft Council. Martin completed this printmaking process by standing on frames and building up the colour layers with no way to accurately align the images: “I did downward dog for five months,” she tells us. She brought the prairie sections for this show, since the landscape is so different from ours here on the coast.

The context for this project’s title, “breathturn”—not inspiration, always context, Martin says—came about during pandemic lockdowns, after starting to make monarchs in 2019. Teaching virtual art classes through a time of so much uncertainty, Martin looked to the butterflies, who never knew what would be happening tomorrow: “In a breath, everything can change.” She wanted to create a space where people could breathe—and this exhibition certainly helped me to stop and take a deeper breath. 

Nicole Haldoupis is a queer writer from Toronto. Her first book, Tiny Ruins (Radiant Press, 2020), was shortlisted for four 2021 Saskatchewan Book Awards and the 2022 Bressani Literary Prize. It is currently being adapted into a feature-length film by Rogue Rock Pictures. She’s the managing editor at Paragon Press, a former editor of Grain and untethered, and an innkeeper at the Rendell Shea Manor. She lives with her partner and cat in St. John’s, Newfoundland and Labrador.