Adrienna Matzeg’s work emerges from the meeting point of design, discipline, and meditative craft. Rooted in embroidery and textile-based art, the practice reflects patience, ritual, and precision while engaging with the shifting contexts of contemporary culture. From the quiet ceremony of making to collaborations that reach global audiences, each piece carries both personal reflection and universal resonance.

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Do you have any rituals or habits that help you enter a creative state of flow?

I have a few small rituals that help me get into a creative flow. I like to start by making a cup of matcha tea—it’s a quiet ceremony that signals the beginning of my work time. The act itself is deliberate and slow, which helps me transition from the rush of daily life into a focused, meditative mindset. I usually work with noise-cancelling headphones on, either listening to an audiobook or letting the quiet sharpen my focus. Right now I’m listening to The Island of Sea Women by Lisa See. The story feels especially enriching since I recently travelled to Jeju Island, South Korea, where it takes place. 

I always choose to sit by a big window, because natural light is my ideal working environment. The natural light helps me observe colours, which is essential when I’m selecting threads for a piece. For me, these rituals aren’t just preparatory steps; they are integral to how I enter a creative state and sustain focus for the several hours it takes to bring a piece to life.

How has your artistic style transformed over the years? Are there specific influences, experiments, or moments that marked a turning point?

Over time, my artistic style has evolved through both experimentation and practical shifts. Early on, I worked almost exclusively in a square format because my embroidery stretcher dictated that limitation. In recent years, I’ve expanded to 11”x14” and 16”x20”, which has opened up new possibilities for composition and scale. I upgraded my small stretcher to a floor standing gripper frame, I’m now able to make pieces up to 24”x24”.

One turning point was when I began using coloured background fabrics—they instantly brought in a sense of place or time of day and added more atmosphere to my pieces. My relationship with colour has also deepened: I started with a muted palette in 2020, but now my work is much brighter. As I’ve gained a comprehensive understanding of the thread colours and types available, I’ve become more intentional about which colours complement each other and how gradients can be used for storytelling, like in my CBC Arts collaboration and in pieces from The Scenic Route series.

I’ve also become more experimental—working with both sides of the cloth, playing with unexpected compositions, letting objects float in space rather than centering them. And while I’m still interested in abstraction, my representations have become more realistic over time, as I’ve become more comfortable with the medium. 

How do you challenge yourself to continually grow as an artist while remaining true to your voice?

I’m always looking for new subject matter and techniques to explore. Pushing myself technically is really important to me—whether it’s learning to create smoother colour gradients, trying complex subject matter (like the gingham basket in Catch of the Day) or, most recently, embroidering Japanese signage from photos I took in Kyoto and Tokyo. I’m working on a new series exploring storefronts in both cities at night time and I’ll be stitching on black linen. It will be fun to make the light and signage come to life through colour threads on the black background. It will be challenging to trace my pattern onto the dark cloth however. I normally use white or light grey. 

When I look back at earlier works, depicting food, and compare them to more recent pieces such as The World Is Your Oyster, I can see how much I’ve grown. Over time, I’ve built up more tools in my kit—techniques I can now apply more deliberately to tell the stories I want to tell.

I think that drive comes from my past training in professional ballet, where there is always space to improve artistry and technique. I strive for perfection and I’m very internally motivated, but even before I complete one piece, I’m already thinking about what comes next.

Is art created for the artist, the audience, or somewhere in between?

For me, art exists somewhere in between. Having worked as a designer for over ten years, I see the artist, the audience, and the final environment as inevitably interconnected—you can’t fully separate them. When I create, the subject matter is very personal, and the process itself is a form of meditation. Sitting with my materials, selecting colours, and stitching each piece allows me to slow down and focus fully on the present moment. It’s a way to balance work and life, a ritual that helps me step out of the fast pace of daily demands and immerse myself in something tangible.

At the same time, I’m always conscious of how colour, scale, and composition will translate into someone’s space. Because my pieces are so time-consuming, I must consider their eventual home. While the act of making is just for me, the outcome is meant to be shared. I want the scenes I depict to feel universal enough to resonate with a larger audience, and since I sell my work through galleries and my website, there is always a commercial consideration alongside the personal.

Do you think art that is created for commercial success loses its integrity, or can it still hold meaning?

I don’t believe that creating art with commercial success in mind means it loses integrity. I think it absolutely holds meaning. For me, making work is both a personal and professional practice. It supports my mental health and sense of balance, but it’s also how I support making a living, which is especially important in an expensive city. Not all full time artists have the luxury to make art solely for expression. 

Alongside my art I work as an industrial designer, and that perspective shapes how I approach my art. In design, you are constantly thinking about function, context, and the end user—you consider where something will live, how it will be used, and why it matters. Even small details like mounting hardware, how a piece will be installed, or the kind of space it might end up in are part of imagining art as something that will eventually be placed somewhere.

Transitioning into textile-based art, I bring that same mindset: I think about the space a piece will occupy, how people will interact with it, and what emotions it can evoke. That practical, user-focused lens informs my artistic decisions without compromising the personal or expressive qualities of the work. Considering both purpose and audience, I feel, only makes the work stronger.

Has social media democratized art or diluted its value? How do you feel platforms like Instagram influence modern creativity?

I think social media has definitely democratized art by making it more accessible and community-driven. I’ve made many friendships and connections purely through platforms like Instagram. We even have group chats for gallery openings in the city, where we can meet up and experience art together. That sense of community is extremely valuable.

I don’t believe social media dilutes the value of art, in many ways it enriches it. These platforms give people unprecedented access to artists’ processes. You can peek into studios, see works in progress, and really understand the time and care that goes into making something. For me, that visibility only strengthens the perceived value of handmade work.

Social media has also expanded my reach far beyond conventional gallery models. I work with online galleries and digital platforms that connect me with audiences internationally, and I’ve met many clients and brands through Instagram. People can see not only the finished piece but also the depth of process behind it, which makes them appreciate the work—and the price tag—more fully.

Of course, anyone can share their work online, but I think quality and authenticity speak for themselves. The accessibility is positive, it gives more people a chance to participate, while I believe audiences still recognize the difference in quality when choosing to invest in art. 

Artificial Intelligence is increasingly infiltrating creative fields. Do you see artificial intelligence as a threat, a tool, or a collaborator in the art world?

Having worked in both design and art, AI feels like more of a threat to the design industry than to art. The real danger lies in how it conditions buyers—it creates an expectation of immediate results, even if that means settling for something mediocre. I think this shift in perception is especially threatening for digital industries like film, motion graphics, and graphic design, where speed often gets prioritized.

In my own practice, I mostly use AI as a tool, something to support me in the background. For example, I’ll use it as a tool to help me communicate more clearly, whether that’s tightening up an artist statement, polishing a bio, or drafting an email.

When it comes to art itself, I don’t see AI as a threat to what I do. I work with hand tools, slow processes, and tactile techniques that AI can’t replicate. In fact, I believe that as AI-generated content becomes more pervasive, there will be a growing appreciation for the handmade—for work that carries the evidence of time, touch, and human skill. Art created with care and physical presence will only become more valued in contrast. For now, I feel safe in the fact that my medium is rooted in something AI can’t touch: the patience of an intentionally slow and meditative craft and the individuality of human creativity.

Are there any upcoming projects or dreams that you’re particularly excited about?

Yes—I have a few upcoming projects that I’m really excited about. This fall I’m collaborating with UGG Canada as part of their Fall 2025 campaign. I’m one of four artists selected to take part in a pop-up event on Ossington Street, one of Toronto’s most popular spots, at the end of September. I hope this collaboration will open the door to future partnerships with more brands.

 

Looking further ahead, I’m preparing for a solo show next spring at Abbozzo Gallery in Toronto’s West End, which will be an important milestone for me. And internationally, I’m continuing my collaboration with Paper Collective in Denmark. Earlier this year we launched a collection of prints together that were quite successful, and we’re currently working on a new collection for next year.

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The journey of Adrienna Matzeg demonstrates that art can be both deeply intimate and outward-facing, balancing slow, deliberate processes with modern visibility and collaboration. Through texture, colour, and care, each work holds the weight of time and intention while speaking to wider conversations about value, authenticity, and connection. What endures is a practice defined by clarity, discipline, and a commitment to creation that feels both grounded and expansive.