Bread and Butter by Ashleigh Walters at the Armory Art Center
I didn’t take my daughter to the Bread and Butter exhibition just because it was cute, colorful, and filled with familiar things like Ring Pops and buttered toast.
Although, honestly, that would have been reason enough...
I took her because since she was three years old, she has been creating her own installation art pieces from recycled materials. Boxes become buildings. Containers become characters. She has always had this natural way of turning everyday things into something worth looking at a little longer.
So when I saw that Ashleigh Walters’ exhibit at the Armory Art Center centered everyday food, packaging, memory, and mixed media, I knew I wanted my daughter to see it in person. I wanted her to walk into a gallery and recognize a piece of herself there.
My reason for going was also personal in another way. I remembered Ashleigh from her time at WPTV, which has always been my favorite local news station. There is something beautiful about watching someone you recognize from one creative space step fully into another. I wanted to support that too.
The beauty of Bread and Butter is that the work feels both familiar and complex.
Walking through the gallery, we saw pieces inspired by the kinds of things people pass by every day without much thought: Ritz crackers, honey bears, and even an oversized grocery bag. It was playful in a way that immediately made the exhibit feel accessible, especially for a child. These were not objects she had to be taught how to recognize. She already knew them.
That is what made the experience feel so warm. The pieces invited you in through nostalgia first. But then those everyday things are not just snacks, packaging, or items from a grocery aisle. They become symbols of childhood, comfort, and the small rituals that shape our days. Seeing them reimagined in a gallery made me think about how much meaning lives inside the things we usually rush past.
The oversized grocery bag especially stood out to me because it shifted the way we looked at the world around us. It reminds us that creativity does not always start with something rare or expensive. Sometimes it starts with what is already in your kitchen, lunchbox, or pantry.
According to the Armory Art Center, Bread and Butter explores the role food plays in our lives, not only as sustenance and nutrition, but also as memory, identity, healing, and connection.
That description made so much sense once we were standing in the gallery. Food is never just food. It carries stories and seasons of our lives. A cereal box can take you back to childhood mornings. A takeout container can remind you of busy nights when cooking was not happening. A sweet treat can bring back memories of being comforted or simply allowed to enjoy something small.
And then there is the other side of food too.
The exhibit also points to the disparities that can exist between neighbors who live only feet or miles apart. That part stayed with me because it adds another layer to the exhibit. Food can be comfort, culture, celebration, and nostalgia, but it can also point to access, privilege, lack, and survival.
That is what made Bread and Butter feel more meaningful than just a collection of familiar objects. The work gave you permission to smile first, then think deeper. It invited you to reflect on the way something as ordinary as a bite to eat can hold so much of who we are.
Witnessing my daughter take in everything at the exhibit is a moment I won’t soon forget.
Since she was three years old, she has been creating her own pieces from recycled materials and everyday objects. She has made popsicles out of craft sticks and cardboard, a pizza box with a handmade pizza inside and even larger pieces that feel like little sculptures. She has this natural way of studying something ordinary and figuring out how to recreate it with whatever she has nearby. So for her the connection was easy to see. Ashleigh Walters’ work took familiar foods and objects and placed them in a new context.
And that’s exactly what I wanted her to see.
I wanted her to understand that the kind of creativity she already practices at home belongs in real creative spaces too. That everyday objects can become art. I want her to grow up knowing that her imagination is not something she has to shrink or explain away. I want her to see artists creating with freedom and intention. I want her to know that one day, her work could be in a gallery too.
That is what made this visit feel bigger than a simple afternoon at an exhibit. It became a quiet reminder that exposure matters. Sometimes children need to see possibility outside of the house so they can better understand the value of what they have already been creating inside of it.
Although Bread and Butter is no longer on display, I still think it is worth reflecting on because exhibits like this remind me why local art spaces matter. This visit, along with my experience seeing Kandy G. Lopez’s Past the Eyes at the Armory, has made me appreciate the center even more.
Both exhibits were different in style and subject, but they both invited me to look closer. Kandy’s work pulled me into conversations about identity, representation, texture, and storytelling. Ashleigh’s work invited me to think about food, memory, access, comfort, and the everyday objects we often overlook.
If you missed Bread and Butter, I would recommend following Ashleigh Walters on Instagram at @ashleigh_art to keep up with her work and future projects. I would also encourage you to sign up for the Armory Art Center’s newsletter so you can stay updated on upcoming exhibitions, artist talks, classes, workshops, and community events.
The Armory is one of those places in Palm Beach County that we are lucky to have access to. It is not just a gallery. It is a creative space for families, artists, students, and anyone who wants to stay connected to the arts in a more intentional way.
I left Bread and Butter grateful. Grateful to see Ashleigh Walters in this creative light. Grateful to watch my daughter recognize pieces of her own imagination in a gallery. And grateful for the reminder that creativity can begin anywhere, even with a cereal box, a pizza box, a grocery bag, or a child who sees possibility in what everyone else might overlook.
Love your life. Live your style.
