Rachel Reeve is an interdisciplinary artist based in Nova Scotia's Annapolis Valley. Working primarily in printmaking, textiles, sculpture, and installation, she explores relationships between the natural world, memory, and lived experience.

Her practice incorporates direct impressions of seaweed, botanicals, fish, and other organic materials, drawing upon the forms, textures, and physical traces of the more-than-human world. Her years living and working in Japan continue to influence her approach to materials, composition, and the relationship between art and nature.

Reeve holds a BFA from NSCAD University and has exhibited in Canada, Japan, and the United States. In September 2026, she presented Frondescence, a solo exhibition at Usagi Gallery in Brooklyn, New York.

My artistic practice is rooted in a lifelong relationship with the natural world. Through printmaking, textiles, sculpture, and installation, I explore the connections between body, landscape, memory, and personal experience.

Nature printing is central to my work. Seaweed, plants, and marine life participate directly in the making of an image, leaving impressions shaped by their particular forms and textures, as well as the pressure and movement of my hands. Each print holds something of the encounter between material and maker.

I first experimented with gyotaku, the Japanese practice of fish printing, in 2015, when a friend shared a recent catch. Since then, my work has expanded to include a range of marine species, seaweed, and botanical forms. I am drawn to the immediacy of these processes, the irregularities that emerge, and the possibilities of working with materials that have their own histories.

Early Influences

Growing up on a rural farmstead in Ontario deeply shaped my relationship with the natural world. Adopted at two and a half, I often sought solace in the woods, fields, and gardens, where nature became both a companion and teacher. Through life's hardships, it offered a sense of trust and belonging that continues to inform my work.

Another significant influence on my design sensibilities was the Georgian stone house in which I grew up. Built in the 1860s, its Palladian architectural features reflected an emphasis on symmetry, simplicity, and solidity. The stately stone structure sparked my lifelong interest in architecture, history, geology, and gardens.

I am deeply grateful for the nurturing my grandmother provided. With meticulous attention to detail, she cared for her home, her cooking, her family and friends, and the many interests that filled her days. Her daily rituals became a profound source of nurturing, curiosity, and exploration.

During the summers, my two older brothers and I would often visit my grandmother, usually for weeks at a time. Each day, she would set up her card table with its quilted cover in the centre of her living room. One side of the room held a large picture window overlooking the front yard, lined with stately old maple trees. Opposite the window was her piano, and behind the table stood a mint-green sofa beneath a large painting of a serene river winding through an autumn landscape.

There, as a little girl, I sat each day at this magical table. With my grandmother's tender love, it was always graced with an assortment of art and craft materials. While the warm scent of cinnamon and apples filled the house, my hands transformed those materials into expressions of art. Through touch, I discovered a way of connecting with materials, imagination, and the world around me.

Sometimes, my mind would wander back to the adventures of the little rabbit from the story my grandmother had read to me the night before: Now run along, and don't get into mischief.

Years later, at that table, I would ponder the tenacity, courage, and vulnerability of a fiery red-haired girl from another story we read together. As an adopted child, I saw my own reflection in this orphaned girl. I understood her longing to know where she came from, her yearning to be understood, and the feeling of being alone in the world.

The art table and the stories were gifts from my grandmother. Today, I carry the love she instilled in me—to create art, to write, to be courageous like the little rabbit, and to be vulnerable yet optimistic, like that tenacious red-haired girl.

Art, Education, and Practice

A fascination with printmaking during the Art Fundamentals program at Sheridan College led me to pursue a BFA at NSCAD University in Halifax. While studying, I worked at a flower shop and began creating botanical etchings, with plants such as the Monstera leaf becoming central to my work.

Seeking a deeper understanding of art history, I took a semester away from my studies to travel through Europe. Captivated by historical architecture, I spent hours sketching buildings and filling a notebook with architectural drawings.

Upon returning to NSCAD, I continued exploring botanical prints and developed an appreciation for the simplicity and design of Japanese Zen gardens.

After graduating, I moved to Tokyo, where I lived and worked for three years. My time in Japan deepened my appreciation for its art, architecture, gardens, and cultural traditions, influences that continue to inform my practice. In the years that followed, I lived in Hawaii, Maryland, and California, where my two sons were born.

In 2005, I returned to Nova Scotia with my young sons. Alongside raising them, I continued teaching visual art, developing inquiry-based programs for children and facilitating creative experiences within schools and arts organizations. In 2018, I began devoting more time to my own artistic practice while expanding my workshops to include adults.

In 2024, with support from the Canada Council for the Arts, I attended the Nature Printing Society's annual workshop at Western Oregon University, further developing my exploration of seaweed and tree ring printing.

In September 2026, I presented Frondescence at Usagi Gallery in Brooklyn, New York. Bringing together large-scale nature prints on paper and textiles, installation, and personal symbolism, the exhibition explored relationships between the body, landscape, memory, and the more-than-human world.

Alongside my visual practice, writing has remained an important part of my life. Through journals, personal correspondence, and observations gathered over more than thirty years, I continue to explore the relationships between memory, imagination, and artistic expression.