As an artist, I'm learning to balance what materials I can afford and what is climate-friendly

This is a First Person column by Fairouz Gaballa, a multimedia artist based in Charlottetown. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.

As I stand in the aisle of my favourite craft store, I'm faced with choices that mirror the complexity of the world outside. You see, I love my foam board. Its core is made of foam and it's sandwiched between two layers of paper or plastic. It's versatile, easy to work with and budget-friendly. But it's not friendly to the environment.

Or take a look at the paint brushes. The plastic handle brushes are cheap — about $17 including tax for a pack of 50 brushes. The brushes with synthetic wooden handles cost a fair bit more at $6 per brush — but they are made of more sustainable materials.

Glues are the unsung heroes of my art. Yet their plastic containers are far from eco-friendly. And don't get me started on the packaging that these art supplies come in. It's all plastic and non-biodegradable stuff, and it's a constant reminder that even in the art world, being green isn't always easy.

As an artist, I'm not exactly rolling in profits. Most of what I earn goes right back into my materials, leaving little room for choosing sustainability. It might be only a few extra bucks here or there, but every extra dollar adds up since I'm fresh out of university, laden with loans and searching for a job. Since I currently don't have a steady income, I'm living with my family to save costs and paying careful attention to my budget. But I also care deeply about climate change, since I've seen its impact and can't bear the thought of it getting worse.

Growing up in Egypt, I've known scorching heat — those blistering summers that sear the earth. When I moved to P.E.I., I encountered bone-chilling cold, like that unforgettable winter in 2015 when the snow piled up several feet.

Back in Egypt, I used to think those summers were as hot as it got. It wasn't until this August when I returned that I grasped the full extent of how climate change was impacting Egyptian summers. It was the same when I went to Saudi Arabia. I'd been to Mecca before, but this time, the sun's rays were scorching. Over Fifty degrees Celsius. Something I wouldn't have believed until I experienced it. 

During the daytime, as I stepped out of my hotel room into the open air, the Saudi government's fans with ice every few feet barely made a dent in the heat. I couldn't even lift my head or open my eyes to walk straight; that's how intense the sun was. It was an experience beyond anything I'd encountered before, even in Egypt.

I shudder at the thought of the sun's rays growing stronger or of the weather being so unpredictable during set seasons. It feels like something straight out of those dystopian novels I usually avoid, because they paint a picture of a future too bleak to live through. 

So, in an effort to reduce my personal impact on climate change while also living within my means, I'm taking small steps: shorter showers to conserve water, taking public transit or walking instead of cars wherever possible, and I'm also exploring ways to create art with wood in the hopes that I can eventually replace the foam board in my miniatures.

While I still use non-biodegradable materials in my creations because they're more affordable for me right now, I've embraced recyclable and upcycled alternatives, such as cardboard from old notebooks and binders that are surprisingly sturdy, whenever I can. Instead of tossing them out, they're finding new life in my miniatures. Fabric from old T-shirts and pillows becomes the upholstery for my tiny couches and chairs. I cherish my brushes until they're on their last bristle, and I've become a master at repurposing cardboard boxes and various packing materials, including biodegradable ones.

Even the firm plastic packaging that once housed my paints finds a second purpose as glass in my miniature windows. The cardboard from those boxes serves as bases for a range of miniatures, while leftover wood becomes a treasure trove for crafting mini shelves. I don't waste a scrap of foam board either; it's reserved for crafting mini books for my sets.

It's an ongoing process — a journey of give and take and there is no one set in stone solution. While I strive to reduce my ecological footprint, I am also learning to balance practicality while revelling in the joy that creating art brings to me.

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