ccbc's artist interview series with larissa piva
The CCBC’s Artist Interview Series is published on the 15th of each month. Our intention is to connect readers with the incredible artists in our space, consider craft through the lens of an artist, and encourage people in their own journey with craft.
Artist Biography: Larissa is a queer artisan, writer, and exploration enthusiast privileged to live, listen, and learn on the traditional unceded territories of the Quw’utsun peoples. She has an MFA from the University of British Columbia and is an alumnus of the Tools for Change Residency. As a visual artist, she mainly focuses on creating functional items from salvaged wood designed for sharing, especially those found in the kitchen, and she enjoys creating art that replicates the colours and movement of nature. Her visual work has been juried by the Craft Council of BC, The East Side Arts Society, Rainforest Arts, and others. Larissa continues to grow her practice through offering community workshops, continued education, and participation in local artist collectives. When she isn’t developing her crafts, you can find her having a snack with her wife, singing out-of-tune to her tomato plants, or snapping amateur photos for later inspiration.
salvaged materials. I enjoy crafting items found in the kitchen or home. With a Mediterranean background, family and food are important parts of my upbringing, and designing items meant for sharing comes as a natural passion. One of my favourite moments is when I suddenly remember a random piece of wood sitting in a dusty corner of my closet, and a triumphant internal roar goes, “THAT is what this is for!” It’s so incredibly satisfying to give something destined for the landfill a new, wonderful purpose in a stranger’s life.
Could you share a bit of information on what has inspired you in the past to make your work, or what is inspiring you in your present work?
Nature (including people) has always been my primary muse—its rhythms echo in every piece I create. The rich diversity found in different species of wood—from the warm sunset hues of cherry to the cool elegance of oak—allows me to tell unique stories through my work. Additionally, historical designs and modern architecture influence my aesthetic choices, blending tradition with contemporary flair.
Human connections enrich this journey further. My partner, who brings her fine eye for detail from the dental field, provides invaluable feedback on form and function. Her aesthetic tastes and random “You should make this” comments keep me constantly researching and on my toes. Pride in my work is personal, but her pride in my work is deeper than that. In addition, discussions with students, fellow co-op members, and other colleagues and friends spark new ideas and foster a supportive, creative environment.
Why do you make craft?
Wow, what a question! I will answer with a story. When I was in post-secondary, I received some interesting advice from a fine arts professor. During a conversation about an assignment, she asked our group what our career aspirations were, and I informed her that I wanted to walk a path of community service but wasn’t sure what that meant yet. I intended to follow the Social Sciences side of my BA, and also desired to continue writing because it is something I love dearly. She told me, “If you can do anything else, if you have any other options, do it. This journey is hard, and if you have other skills, foster them. Don’t end up like so many of us, broke and depressed.”
It shocked me. An arts professor telling students not to pursue art because of its fiscal, physical, and emotional hardships isn’t a new pedagogical dilemma—it was just the first time it was not pointed out to me, but at me. Many writing professionals subscribe to Brontë’s notion that “I'm just going to write because I cannot help it.” Perhaps every great craftsperson feels this sentiment. I am confident that there are quotes in countless languages that encapsulate the idea of creating out of necessity, because we must, as emotional, creative beings, create often, for ourselves and others.
I suppose I took my professor's advice, and long before that class, I knew in my heart I always would pursue work other than art. One thing art can be is isolating. We stare at our work alone in the dark, in the early hours of morning, when we drive for long periods, and when there are moments of silence between pleasantries. I like people, talking, and going to places that are loud and demanding and constant. After graduating, I started my career in the Human Services field. Then I followed another dream and moved to Europe. COVID-19 happened, I returned to Canada, and I jumped right back into the field. I love nonprofit work and find great meaning in fiercely supporting clients, but creating always calls to me.
No matter what I am doing, how far I go, or how long I put my tools down, craft calls. When I don’t create, parts of my soul feel missing or disjointed. So, what brings me back? What is it exactly that pulls me toward the long hours of back pain, strained eyes, light pockets, and voracious hunger because, oh damn, I worked on this for 12 hours and forgot to eat? My long answer can be simplified into one sentence: I craft because I cannot help it.
Has your work evolved over time, and if so, what has that looked like?
Woodworking has been an integral part of my life for the past five years. I took some woodworking classes in high school and enjoyed them very much, but didn’t do any woodworking after I graduated.
My interest in the craft rekindled during the peak of COVID-19 restrictions. At the time, my mother’s partner asked me if I wanted to help him build a gazebo in her yard. He showed me how to cut on a small contractor’s table saw and use a nail gun. I quickly discovered that I enjoyed building very much, and began my journey to learn more about woodworking as an art.
In 2021, I moved to Vancouver, where I participated in a woodworking residency, the Tools for Change program, to take my craft to a new level. During this time, I studied and experimented under a professional cabinet maker, Greta Burley. I moved into a studio at Makerlabs and continued to expand my artistry, pursuing joining collectives and showing my art with the support of other makers in the space.
It's always so bittersweet to see pieces from “the vault,” pieces that I made during that first year of learning woodworking. I cringe when I think about all the folks who might have my old art in their homes still, including my father-in-law, who refuses to let go of one of the first resin river boards I ever made because “it works.” It’s bitter because I wonder why was I so awful at making? Bitter because I feel that I could have started better somehow. But then I look at my modern work, everything I have accomplished in the past five years and how much I’ve learned, and the sweetness hits my tongue. Pride in my work, joy in the knowledge I give my students at the CCWC, and a wonderful future of forever learning ahead keep my work evolving, ever changing with who I am as a maker and what the world demands from the modern artist.
What would you say to emerging or young craft artists in 2025?
Stay dedicated. Make mistakes. Push through the lows and always celebrate the highs. Never stop learning. Follow your favourite makers, attend events relevant to your craft, make connections even when it's scary, print nice business cards, and make a free portfolio online to share your work when someone asks to see it.
NEVER pay a high amount of money to show your work. Legitimate publications, galleries, and shows will not ask for your left arm to showcase your work. Try to find local craft fairs, small shows, or events where your target market will attend to catch the attention of people who care about your craft. Join your city’s art council, and join organizations like the Craft Council of BC! These places will often offer resources for emerging artists like grants, continuing education, archives, and opportunities to share your work with a large audience. The most important thing to improving craft is consistency. Even when your work looks terrible (to you) and you feel defeated, keep going. Do something small in your craft every day, whether that is creating, consuming, or conceptualizing. Good luck! You got this 😊.
