How Alberta Artists Are Redefining Work and Passion

By Trent Wilkie, Local Journalism Initiative Reporter, St. Albert Gazette

When Tara Long first picked up a hammer and rail spike, she wasn’t chasing a trend or a paycheque. She was chasing her version of peace.

“I actually, like when I first got sober, I found I had a lot of spare time on my hands,” said Long, owner and bladesmith at Rust and Timber in Clearwater County. “I’ve always been a creative person and I think through consumption I really lost that. Once I removed that from my life, I was searching for that side of me again.”

Long tried leatherwork and woodworking; both were fine, but didn’t spark the physical and mental mix she craved. Then a friend left a coal forge and an anvil in her shed.

“I thought, ‘I’ve watched Forged in Fire — let’s see what it’s like.’ I bought a bag of coal, watched a YouTube video and tried it out,” she said. “It was so much harder than they make it look on TV, but that’s what I craved. That was the moment I knew, ‘This is it.’”

That moment became Rust and Timber, a small business built on creativity, sweat, and self-discovery. For Long, blacksmithing isn’t just craft, it’s therapy. Heat. Beat. Repeat.

“I think what a lot of people have been missing is community and purpose, and this provides both for me,” she said. “I work in the oilfield as a boilermaker welder, and while I enjoy that, it doesn’t make me feel like I’m doing something good or making a difference. Knife making gives me that. It brings joy to people’s lives and connects me with others.”

Long admits the journey isn’t easy.

“People are not good at failing, but failure is where you’re going to find your success,” she said. “I have a whole drawer of knives that are messed up because I did something wrong in the process, but that’s the only way we learn. You have to mess something up, adjust, fix it, and get better next time.”

Sobriety taught her resilience. Blacksmithing reinforced it.

“I want people to be able to find the things I’ve found,” she said. “My life isn’t all roses, but with passion and self-discovery and healthy outlets, things can get better. I came from a place that was extremely dark and scary, and now I’m here, and this is a huge part of that.”

For Carly Rowsome, the road to entrepreneurship was literal. The founder of The Free Spirit Company put in time crisscrossing Canada in her van before settling in Alberta to make natural deodorants and wellness products.

“I do make other products,” Rowsome said. “I have shampoo bars. I have what I call Nope, which is natural odour prevention and elimination — a powder for taking stink out of hockey equipment, dog harnesses, footwear, everything.”

Her second deodorant formula was born out of necessity.

“My brother-in-law is allergic to like everything,” she said. “I was determined to find something natural for him that would work, that didn’t cause some sort of allergic reaction. Now it’s actually growing in popularity.”

For Rowsome, the work is deeply personal.

“When you help people, does that make you feel good? Definitely,” she said. “There is a satisfaction to that for sure.”

But running a business isn’t all rainbows, although she has seen a few.

“Driving through Manitoba, the fields … they had just this vast open space of sunflowers,” she said. “Another time, in Nova Scotia, I opened my door in the morning and there was this huge rainbow, maybe even a double rainbow, over the ocean after a storm. It was surreal and magical.”

Those moments remind her why she chose this path.

“Being a solo entrepreneur, you don’t really get a break,” she said. “But the wonderful thing about having my business is that I have the flexibility to say yes to things, say no to things, and decide what aligns for my best interest and my health.”

For Daphne Côté, creativity isn’t just a career, it’s a lifeline. The Camrose-born artist spent decades painting before moving into tattooing six years ago. Today, she owns Inspired Art Tattoo in Stony Plain.

“Almost every day I get intense meditative processes,” Côté said. “In tattooing, I get lost in the work; time and space don’t exist. All that exists is what I’m doing right now with my hands. There’s struggle, then breakthroughs. You chase that feeling.”

Her work often carries deep emotional weight.

“When someone looks at a memorial tattoo and cries because it’s better than they imagined, that ripple effect beyond myself is incredible,” she said.

Côté’s path wasn’t random.

“I had tattoo artists in my art classes,” she said. “I was teaching figurative drawing, colour theory and design basics. One day I called up a tattoo artist I knew and said, ‘Can I pick your brain?’ We talked for hours. By the end, he said, ‘Do you want to come in for a tattoo apprenticeship?’ It worked out perfectly.”

Tattooing demands a specific mix of skills.

“You have to be OK with people enduring pain, touching people for long periods, and working very closely,” she said. “There’s no room for error. Communication has to be clear. You need to be good with people, self-motivated, and OK with blood.”

Beyond technique, Côté sees her role as part artist, part realist.

“Artists need to work, so sometimes we find whatever medium pays for groceries,” she said. “I love oil painting, but I can use those skills in tattooing. Every artist finds their niche—the way to sustainably be creative.”

Rowsome, Long and Côté share more than talent. They share a refusal to settle for work that drains them. They’ve built lives where creativity isn’t a luxury, it’s the foundation.

“It takes courage and a love of learning to do what I do,” Côté said. “If you know you’re capable of learning what you need, it gives confidence to take risks. I love exploring, and I’ll never know everything about art or tattooing. That’s what drives me.”

Long agrees. “I want other people to find what I’ve found,” she said. “Life can be so much better if you just explore yourself and your passions.”

Rowsome puts it simply: “When you help people, it adds a hidden value to what you do. That is a payment you give to yourself.”

In a province where economic headlines often focus on oil and gas, these three Albertans are forging, crafting and inking a different story, one where work is more than a paycheque. It’s purpose.