Connected : The Blue Butterfly Complete

It started with the Blue Butterfly—a Morpheus butterfly— an image that arrived two years ago and quietly landed on my list of ideas.

The Morpheus blue symbolizes transformation, spiritual growth, new beginnings. Its vibrant wings have long been linked to hope and healing. But what I love most is this: a butterfly can only fly when its wings move together—connected at the heart. Without that center, there is no lift, no rise, no possibility of soaring.

Back and Forth

This piece first appeared as a collector’s idea, then drifted toward becoming a workshop project. For more than a year she floated between the two—never fully landing—until she finally settled as a workshop: Connected at Heart Center.

Oddly, the online workshop arrived at a time that didn’t quite fit. Attendance was low, yet the women who did join carried powerful, tender stories about why this symbol mattered to them. Their artwork turned out stunning—each wing a reflection of someone they loved, or a part of themselves they were finally ready to reconnect with.

Wings are important

With the two wings came the realization that I needed to create two pieces. My intention was always that the workshop invite each person to listen closely to what their own heart wanted to hold—whether that was a mother, a sister, a friend, or the part of themselves that needed to be seen again.

She landed

And, as butterflies do, she continued drifting—from flower to flower, hand to hand—until she unexpectedly returned to me through a beloved patron as a collector’s commission.

Connected: Soul Sisters.

My intention was to keep the spirit of the workshop alive while weaving in the kinds of fabrics, details, and techniques that transform a simple project into a true collector’s piece.

It all began with the gown’s fabric — a vibrant print custom-ordered from a small textile studio in Poland. The moment it arrived, I knew it carried the energy this piece needed.

Bodies of sculpted heads in clay and covered with vintage Japanese chirimen silk.

The sculpted heads are formed in clay, then wrapped in vintage Japanese chirimen silk — a fabric that brings both subtle texture and quiet history to each face.

Once the silk is applied, the faces are gently tinted and painted by hand, allowing the features to emerge softly from the fabric. Each eyebrow is embroidered with fine black silk thread.

In the photo below, you can see how beautifully the chirimen silk catches the light and enhances the contours of the face.

Final Images

I’m often asked about the difference between my Collector’s Pieces and the projects created in my workshops. While both carry my aesthetic and intention, they are made in very different ways.

Collector’s Piece:

Collector’s Piece begins with a sculpted clay head, allowing for intricate shaping, expressive detail, and a great deal of time and refinement. The fabrics I use are often one-of-a-kind, vintage, or sourced from small artisans. Accessories are either vintage treasures or handcrafted by me. Every element is deliberate, layered, and uniquely its own.

Workshop Piece:
Workshop designs are created to be accessible to students around the world. The fabrics are more readily available, and the faces are formed through needle-sculpting rather than clay. These pieces are still beautifully challenging, but less intricate than the collectors' offering, giving students the joy of creation without the complexity of advanced techniques.

In this case, the size was also a difference. My collector pieces are more substantial in size at 29". This workshop piece is 18".

Detail Images

Silk velvet hand-dyed heart.

Each circle is hand-colored using alcohol inks on silk noil fabric. Appliqued and topstitched.

The back of the wings is depicted in a color that mimics the monarch butterfly.

Wings are tied onto the gowns.

The hats were created in a whimsical fashion, each with one antenna, noting that we may need another to complete the picture of life.

Side note: The antennae are primarily for smell, to find mates, food, and host plants, and for flight stabilization, acting like a gyroscope.

Cotton with vintage trim and Peruvian cotton pom poms.

Gown interiors are vintage Chinese silk from the 1950s.

Pantaloons are made of cotton fabric with a Japanese cotton hemline.

Boots are cotton fabric lined with chartreuse silk dupioni. Silk ribbon ties and vintage flowers.

Soles are chartreuse silk dupioni.

Close-up of printed fabric hemline topstitching.

Full image of back.

Connected...

Without the Wings.

My Thoughts

Artmaking is such a curious thing. The pieces that truly matter always seem to arrive through the heart first. When I try to think my way forward, everything feels like effort and friction. But when I let the image move through me—when I let the heart lead—the path opens, the wing lifts, and the work takes flight on its own.

Closing Reflection

My hope is that these pieces remind you to pause, soften, and let your own heart speak first. Creativity doesn’t ask for perfection—it asks for presence. It asks for trust. It asks for the quiet courage to follow what feels alive inside you, even when the way forward is unclear.

When your wings feel uneven, return to your center.
When your ideas feel heavy, return to your heart.
There is always a moment—small, luminous—when something inside you clicks open, and what once felt impossible finally rises.

May your own creations, whatever form they take, find their way into the world with ease, grace, and the steady lift of a heart-led beginning.

I invite you to visit My Website:

Lotus or Manchu Slippers

Chinese culture has been a long-standing and enduring interest of mine for over 25 years. I find great inspiration in many aspects of the culture, including what they find beautiful and fashionable. It makes my heart beat faster or skip a beat with excitement.

As I was perusing my Pinterest page, I came across my board, and that prompted me in a "timed" moment to pin more pins. In that moment, I thought to write an article about Louts and Manchu slippers. I started to research only to find an article I had already written! Hummm....so here it is!

 Reprint from April 2015

I was recently given these tiny Chinese Lotus Slippers by a very dear friend...

This prompted me to share with you my limited knowledge about these shoes...I have studied the Chinese Children's Hats for over 15 years, and I'm starting to understand them. Chinese culture is varied and has considerable depth. You could spend a lifetime on just one subject.

In today's world, we are very sensitive to the suffering of others. We care deeply for others and their welfare. This is a wonderful thing... There is a carefully negotiated balance. Although our deep caring can bring judgment, which may cloud our understanding, especially of times that are now part of our distant past or our culture...

Lotus Feet

During this period, women did not have a voice, and the only way to make their mark on the world was to marry well, thereby bringing honor to their family.

The generally accepted theory credits Prince Li Yu, who ruled one of the ten kingdoms in southern China. It is said that he had a favourite concubine, who was a superb dancer. “Precious Thing” toe danced inside a six-foot-high platform shaped like a lotus flower made of gold. Chinese women resorted to permanent disfigurement to execute the choreography. When the women of the concubine started to bind their feet to copy Precious Thing, the bindings were likely very loose in comparison to what they would become.

Lotus feet were a critical, life-demanding necessity among Chinese women (mostly Han). This showed they did not need to work and was a symbol of aristocracy and wealth in a patriarchal society. Many families that were not of the aristocracy would groom their oldest daughter for this position in life. The custom was outlawed and finally followed through on in 1912.

Women from wealthy and noble families focused their fine artistic creativity and energy on footwear for their tiny bound feet, racing to achieve uniqueness and beauty and distinguish themselves from others. 

 

 

We can examine the darker side of this custom, which lasted for 1,000 years.

We can also examine the beauty that contradicts that period...

Lotus Slippers

silk

These tiny little masterpieces were mainly made from silk in the cities. In villages and poorer sections of the country, cotton was used because it was less expensive and more durable.

cotton

Embroidery

The embroidery on the shoes was hand-sewn by the women who were to wear them, though younger girls often enlisted the help of their mothers and sisters. Commercial patterns were available, but many women created their own designs, tailored to their region and personality. This was the only time in a Chinese woman’s life when creativity was encouraged. 

Sole shot of a black silk lotus shoe with elaborately 

embroidered sole featuring fish, 

lotus flowers, roots, and seed pods.

The lotus flower, a symbol of summer, purity, and fruitfulness, was the most popular. Chinese characters, leaves, animals, fish, and flowers were also incorporated into embroidered decorations. The bottom of the shoes could also be embroidered. As many wealthy women spent their days sitting with their feet up, the bottom of the shoes needed to be just as attractive as the sides.

Shanxi-style lotus shoes, silk with silk 

and cotton embroidery. 

Denver Art Museum; Neusteter Textile Collection: 

Gift of Miss Louise Iliff.

This lotus shoe from Shanghai features a complex 

embroidered motif expressing a bride's desire 

for her husband's career success. 

Bata Shoe Museum

Red silk wedding shoes with red soles 

showing 

caked dirt and signs of wear. 

Bata Shoe Museum

More slippers

Unable to find credits for these

a well-loved and worn pair

Unbound Feet

Manchu women did not bind their feet was in part because it they were ordered not to by the Emperor and other men, who saw their feet as a marker (the marker) of ethnic difference. They were also able to gain all the benefits of footbinding, a visible symbol of their refinement and culture, without having to bind their feet. 

“Those who imitate the clothes of another country or order their women to bind their feet, [they] have their bodies in our dynasty but their hearts in another country.”

Manchu women were forbidden to bind their feet by an edict from the Emperor after the Manchu started their rule of China in 1644. However, few complied with the edict. As its prevalence increased, the Manchus, wanting to emulate the particular gait that bound feet necessitated, invented their own type of shoe that caused them to walk in a similar swaying manner. These "flower bowl" shoes were typically placed on a high platform, generally made of wood, or had a small central pedestal. Bound feet became a significant distinguishing marker between Manchu and Han women.

A Manchu girl shows off the typical dress 

of the ruling Qing dynasty. 

The picture is from the mid-nineteenth-

century collection of William Lockhart

more Manchu Shoes

My hope is that it gives you a glimpse into the Chinese culture and their thought process of that time in history!

I love art, and I love history,
but it is living art and

 living history that I love...

Wm Morris