Artist Bio
Mhairi was born in Evanston, Illinois. Her mother and father are both immigrants from Scotland. She has spent much of her life trying to find ways to engage with her family across the Atlantic Ocean. She learned sewing and knitting from her grandmother at age 6. Since then, she has continued to learn about fiber arts and its complexities. As a child, she was driven by a passion for the arts, playing piano and trumpet, dancing ballet, and attending her mom’s painting classes at the local community center. She graduated from her local high school in 2021 and decided to attend university in Scotland. She studied Art History and Film History at The University of St. Andrews.
Although she loved engaging with the literary and academic community, she missed the physical making of art. In 2023, she transferred to The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She loves the experience of learning with other artists and being able to delve into her creative side. At SAIC, she discovered a passion for sculptural practices such as woodworking, stained glass, and ceramics. She is excited to see where her practice takes her next.
Artist Statement
I see art as something passed down—something shared. My work comes from a place of tradition, rooted in folk art and the stories that live in materials, methods, and memory. When I make things, I feel like I’m reaching back toward my family, toward people I’ve never met but feel connected to. As the child of Scottish immigrants, I’ve often felt caught between places, searching for a sense of home. That search shows up in my work—it’s how I explore where I come from and where I belong.
I’m especially drawn to how folk art and disability intersect. I believe making can be a powerful way to express experiences that aren’t always seen or understood. For me, art is an extension of my body—how I move through the world, how I process and communicate. I want to honor the ways disabled artists have always contributed to folk traditions, even if they’ve been overlooked. I hope my work pushes back against narrow ideas of what counts as art and what counts as domestic craft.
A big part of my practice is slowing down. I often work with time-consuming, repetitive methods because they let me be present with my materials and with myself. The process matters just as much as the finished piece. I want to show that care, patience, and slowness have value—and that folk art, with all its complexities and imperfections, still has so much to teach us.
