“Love Life”

The art world is in mourning for David Hockney.

I don’t know about you, but every so often I think about famous individuals I admire who have had an impact upon me in one way or another (often, but not always artists) and, even though I know there is zero chance our paths would ever cross, there is a sense of reassurance in the fact that they are out in the world somewhere, carrying on just like the rest of us.

Unfortunately that’s no longer true of Hockney. I’m sad that his light has gone out, yet we are fortunate that he left a tremendous legacy of work and wisdom that will shine brightly into the future.

I have more books about and by Hockney in my personal collection than any other artist, which should tell you something. Many of the great artists I admire are long gone, so it was truly special that I could watch in real time as Hockney continually broke new ground.

Aside from loving his work, I have always been struck by what a smart man he was — well-read, curious and able to distill his knowledge to share with the rest of us. His wisdom wasn’t esoteric or didactic, it was generous and relatable. If you’re interested, there are lots of YouTube videos surrounding him; this BBC documentary is one of my favorites.

But, in reading quite a few of the myriad tributes to him this past week, the point which rises above all is how much he loved life. His vibrant colors and joyful marks, careful looking and celebration of the everyday exemplified that very fact and could be interpreted as a directive to his viewers to do likewise. If you haven’t yet, choose your favorite news delivery platform (trust me, they all will have acknowledged his death) to read about this great artist. And be amazed.

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On another note, and very importantly, a huge thank you to all who commented or sent emails in response to my questions last time. Your thoughts are incredibly helpful.
It’s going to be a time-consuming project. But the good news is I was able to copy the whole of my blog, (text, images, links and everything) into .pdf format so that I am now able to access it all from my computer without needing an internet connection. It wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped, but it’s done and I’m relieved.

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Finally, as you can see, I’ve been trying to get out most days to get some location sketching under my belt and to find a process that feels reliably right and like “me”. It definitely offsets all the blog-related computer time, but it’s one of those things where I’m going to need to keep at it to feel comfortable and to get where I’d like to be. A worthy project for the summer, don’t you think?

Big Switch

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I need more technological simplicity in my life.
To that end, I’m facing the unpleasant reality that it is time to migrate my website and blog from WordPress to a simpler platform. It’s not a project or process I’m looking forward to but, the fact is, it’s a switch I can’t hold off any longer.

I’m probably the last to arrive at the party, but I’ve been swept up in the romance of a Blackwing pencil lately. Buttery smooth as it glides across the page, it brings a new delight to drawing. The downside is that it smudges, transferring to other pages — as you can see on the spread above. Plus, it has that graphite shine. But I do love the texture of its marks and how good it feels to draw with – so I plan to pick up a few more.

What I’ve learned so far is that transferring the website content shouldn’t be anywhere near the challenge of moving my blog. Considering that I have been posting consistently since November of 2014 — weekly for the first five years and biweekly ever since — that adds up to a crazy 426 posts, including today’s.

I do love an asymmetrical composition. Started here with the Blackwing, followed by spots of color and a richer black.

Logistically, it would be way too overwhelming to carry all of them over from one platform to the other, so I am going to have to do some serious weeding. My plan is to set up an archive on my new site which will include a selection of previous posts and then just carry on from there. The full blog digest, as it is today, will be unavailable once the migration is complete.

How lovely it is to have the garden coming back to life – the perfect setting for quick captures.

The biggest challenge is deciding which posts to transfer. I will be going through my backlog to choose the ones that seem most relevant to readers in the future, but any input you may have would be a huge help and very much appreciated.

With that in mind, I’d like to take an informal poll:

In general, are pasts posts of any value to you?
Are there any which you particularly remember and would like to be able to refer to again in the future?

In the past and moving forward, what is most beneficial and of interest to you?

Descriptions of process?
Book recommendations?
Sharing random content? (Articles, Artists, YouTube videos, Art Supplies)
Exhibition reviews?
Travel recaps?
General musings?
Other?

I’ll look forward to your thoughts in the comments, or please feel free to email me directly. Thanks!!
I’ll be plugging away in the background for the foreseeable future and will keep you updated.

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Meanwhile…
As I move along in my “season of practice“, this Substack post by James Gurney (about the value of working small and in sketchbooks) really resonated with me. How about you?

Comfort Through Discomfort

I am finding myself in a season of practice. It wasn’t planned, but here I am. And what surprises me most is that it’s not an uneasy place to be…for the most part.

Our early blooming Korean azalea marks the beginning of each growing season in our back garden. Gouache (top) vs watercolor sketches. What I find most interesting in these experiments is that they show possibilities for pushing toward abstraction.

All I want to do these days is play with materials and allow myself the space and grace to relax into exploration for its own sake. In part, this may be a response to the past year, one filled with changes and milestones, both personal and professional. I’m more than ready to let the wind blow me around for a bit.

I always ask our life drawing models if it’s ok to take a photo. In the moment it allows me to see details that aren’t possible unless I’m right up in their faces. Most are happy to oblige. I don’t ever share the photos elsewhere, but I can return to them later for practice. This is done with gouache. It’s all about color here.

That said, I realize that in the long run it will serve me to set up a few guardrails in order to find a path and to stay on track. My current task is to try to figure out exactly what those parameters will be.

Photos from our travels offer plenty of opportunity for experimenting with different materials. These images of the chapel at Scone Palace in Scotland were made with watercolor, gouache & pencil (top) – I love the way that you can see the strokes of pencil over the paint. The bottom drawing is made with Neocolor IIs and a Koh-i-noor Negro pencil. Due to their waxy nature, not much will make a mark over the Neocolors. It was a huge discovery to find that this pencil will.

It’s somewhat slow going. Some days don’t feel particularly productive or, probably because of that, comfortable. Yet, playing around with intention can be a lot of fun, and my gut tells me that spending this time now will bear fruit later.

This experiment was geared more toward the paper than the drawing materials or paint. I don’t want to bother with a bulky sketchbook when we travel, so finding the right paper for making my own is key. So far Fabriano Artistico bright white wins.

Overall, I have faith that investigation minus specific goals or time constraints isn’t aimless; it’s the route to eventually cracking open a new realm of possibility. Unearthing unexpected and (hopefully) insightful discoveries between process and materials can only surface by diving down rabbit holes with a mindset of “what if?”.

Drawing the models in the endless catalogs that come in day after day makes for an easily accessible source for figure drawing practice on the fly — not to mention helping me feel like the catalogs weren’t a total waste before throwing them in the recycling bin.

So that’s where I’m headed.

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Latest inspiring finds:

Katia Shumkova –

The Bridge – a series of letters between artists Stacey McCall and Elizabeth Barnett , asking questions about art, creative practice and life. The big things and the small.

And, I can’t wait to visit Paper & Pencil the next time we’re in Chicago. Let me know if you get there first.

Let’s Talk Social

What are your thoughts about Instagram these days?
For me, it’s lost a lot of its luster in the last couple of years and, because I used to love it, I’ve been trying to put my finger on exactly why that is.

I’ve stepped back quite a bit from it since last fall, curious to see how that would feel. Mostly I wanted to figure out why I use it and what I actually get out of it. Granted, the novelty has worn off and I’ve become more protective of my time. But by and large, I’ve decided I’m aggravated by the algorithm and its effects. Obviously, I’m not the first to complain about this issue.

I’ve arrived at a point where I’m on the fence. I’m grateful for the art/artists Instagram introduces me to that I would never see otherwise (and if I’m honest, for the dog and travel videos that give me a lift after the news has fried my brain with its incessant bleakness). But on the other hand, many of the profiles I used to love to follow just don’t show up in my feed anymore. I have to remember who they were and try to seek them out, and that takes even more time, resulting in a diminishing of the sense of community that attracted me in the first place. And I haven’t even mentioned all the ads one has to wade through.

What I’m working on this week: Blue Turtleneck. First pass

So I’m curious — what are your thoughts about it all? How do you manage the time-suck? Do you find yourself taking more and more time to craft posts or stories with bells and whistles to make them more eye-catching? Have you found a way to get back to seeing the profiles you followed before the algorithm messed around with everything? And are you too feeling overrun by all the ads?

Blue Turtleneck As the paint builds up, patterns begin to emerge

Please share your thoughts. I’d like to think it’s possible to figure out a way to use Instagram again, rather than it using us.

Blue Turtleneck, The resist is removed and the painting is complete. Time to incorporate stitching

All that said, I’m much more likely to turn to Substack before Instagram these days. I particularly like that the folks who post there seem to be offering information, rather than just a show and tell. Most of what I’ve found at Substack is thought-provoking in a good way. Admittedly, it takes time to read, so I tend to concentrate on just one or two posts at a time rather than mindlessly scrolling through dozens. But I invariably come away with something meaty to think about, and I consider that a success.

Blue Turtleneck, Still far from complete, the stitching is just beginning to take shape. But even at this early stage, I think it adds a lot and I’m enjoying the way it plays off and with the background pattern.

Here are a handful of favorite artists/illustrators that I follow:

Harry Stooshinoff
Anna Wilson – A Bottle Full of Rain
Amy Allen – Palate & Palette
Eleanor Doughty – Hand to Paper
Amy Huntington – Blue Crow Studio
Lucia Leyfield – The Ink Pad

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On a completely different note:
Studio Place Arts is holding its annual “Art It Up!” silent auction to benefit SPA programs. A variety of artwork, created and donated by local artists, is on display in person at SPA but you can see the full catalog, make bids or buy outright online as well. Bidding concludes on Friday, June 5th at 4pm.
I can’t say enough good things about what SPA adds to our community, so this is a win/win opportunity to support them.

Real Life Shangri-La

A change of scene is good for the soul and for the art practice.
There’s no better souvenir than the refreshed outlook one brings back to the studio after time away.

One of the highlights of our recent vacation was a visit to Shangri La, Doris Duke’s Honolulu home / now museum that is dedicated to her massive collection of Islamic art.

Below are just a few of the many gems that caught my eye.

Diamond Head from the museum’s lawn

A mirrored ceiling within what had once been a dressing room

Heavily carved and intricately painted doors embellished with gold leaf

Outdoor stairs leading to an open-air patio on the roof of one of the galleries. Can you imagine the parties?!

While vividly-colored tilework dominates the collection, this embroidered tapestry stood out for its textural detail and subtle use of teal blue.

The abundance of rich details – paint work, tiles and the perforated lantern – made this little alcove sparkle

The museum’s galleries branch off a central, open-air courtyard. This spectacular tile wall and the metal grillwork above it anchor one side of that space.

Heavenly blue

The elaborate details of a mother of pearl inlaid bureau

This beautiful recreation of a Mughal Garden is inspired by the Shalimar Gardens built in 1637 CE in Lahore, Pakistan, which were constructed during reign of the Mughal Empire.

Who knows how or when all this inspiration may resurface. The main thing is, it’s now in the “vault”.

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A couple of irresistible, sea-related visual treats spotted at other Oahu locations…

Jellyfish

Octopus

And despite the on-again, off-again rain – there was still an opportunity to walk (and sketch) along the beach.

I brought along my new travel palette (5-5/16″ x 3-3/8″ x 1/4″) from Art Toolkit. It was a huge success. I left room for a couple of extra mixing pans on the right, and still was able to fit plenty of paint colors.

I took this shot before we left so I would remember what colors I brought with me. The stainless steel pans are all removable and can be switched around. The variety of available pan sizes gives one a lot of flexibility according to which colors you want to bring, and how much of each. They all rest on a magnet that is built into the palette bottom – so there’s no fear that anything will fall out.

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Now that I’m back I’ve been hard at work, mostly following various ideas to see where they lead. I’m pleased with the direction the stitching is taking on this piece that I showed you last time.

And one final thing to share:
I am really excited to have stumbled upon Northern Kentucky University’s Drawing Database. on YouTube. The bite-size art history videos lured me in, but I will be back for some of the longer sessions. Hope you enjoy it too.

Spring Sampling

Winter is beginning to loosen its grasp so the world feels like it’s opening back up again.
Here is a sampling of the out-and-about arty goodness that’s captured my eye and consumed my interest since my last post.

My life drawing group

Siouxsie ©2026 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor, 11.75 x 16.5 I am regularly asked about the sketchbook I use during our drawing sessions. It’s the largest one I could find — a Moleskine hardcover with watercolor paper. It only comes with cold press paper, which is a bit of a disappointment as I prefer hot press, but considering this is the second one I’ve bought, I happily recommend it.

Playing in the studio, thinking about pattern

For example, this

became this (in detail). It’s nothing to write home about, but offered lots of micro discoveries along the way.

Working small (this one is 6″ x 5″) allows me to unearth valuable insights and to make mistakes without too much investment. I can then carry what I learn on to the next one.

Jug & Vase ©2026 Elizabeth Fram, Gouache, 7.75″ x 5″ Not addressing stitching yet, but there’s a lot about this that I love: the looseness, the luxuriousness of the paint, the cropped design. That said, it’s just one more step on my road, not a destination. I still don’t know what’s waiting around the corner.

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Leo Twiggs

My friend, photographer & quilt artist Roz Daniels, recommended I look up the artist Leo Twiggs in light of a separate discussion we were having. I found a wonderful documentary called “Arriving: Leo Twiggs and his Art”. In light of my explorations with pattern above, his wisdom is exactly what I need to hear at this particular juncture. Here’s a brief quote:

“Art is a journey and it’s an adventure. And you don’t really know where you’re going. There’s no navigation…you have to find your way…What you do is arrive at places…you can’t go there. You have to arrive there.”

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Lots of new exhibitions have opened and it’s been a treat to see some of them in person. A few highlights from each show:

You’re An Animal
Sculptures by Jennifer McCandless
Soapbox Arts, March 12 – April 25

Modern Romance © Jennifer McCandless, Ceramic, 17.5 x 9.5 x 9.5 photo: from Soapbox Arts website

The Work of Paper: Juried Show 2026
Edgewater Gallery, February 28 – March 28

Leaving Behind, detail, Ania Gilmore

Brimming: Mary Hill and Betsy Chapek
Studio Place Arts, Second floor gallery, March 11 – April 18

Book Lab: Collaborations
Studio Place Arts, Third floor gallery March 11 – April 18

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And lastly

Dense with indispensable information. I am slowly making my way through this library book. It’s so good that I’ll likely add it to my Kindle library.

And now I have to ask – what is Spring bringing to your neck of the woods?

Before I forget, I will be away from my desk for a bit in the coming weeks, so my next post will be April 23rd. Until then.

The Art of Practice

I happened upon an interview on the Learn to Paint podcast recently that offered a real light bulb moment. William A. Schneider is a painter who is also a musician. Having gone to both art and music schools, he realized a major difference between the two. Unlike art school, music school taught Schneider how to practice — knowledge that has ultimately benefitted his painting as well.

Different paints, different grounds, different approaches — over and over and over…

Here’s what I brought away from his discussion:

First, in terms of longterm growth, musicians are taught that practicing for a big chunk of time a couple of times a week doesn’t hold a candle to working for shorter time periods every single day.
Nothing beats daily practice.

This week is the “OneWeek100People2026” challenge. Practice personified!

Secondly, Schneider talked about the importance of isolating skills while learning. Unlike visual artists, who tend to create a complete piece while trying to keep a specific skill that needs attention in mind (guilty!), musicians don’t work to perfect a full piece all at once. They accomplish much more by concentrating on exercises geared specifically toward refining a particular skill found within a piece, repeating the exercise over and over until it becomes second nature.
Work to become proficient in one skill, then move on to the next, and the next, ultimately building toward the whole.

So simple, yet so impactful. I’m headed, literally and figuratively, back to the drawing board.

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MARKED opened yesterday at Studio Place Arts. I have two pieces in the show and, while unfortunately I can’t make the Art Social this Saturday, March 14th due to a previous commitment, I could see when I dropped off my work that it promises to be a beautiful and thought-provoking exhibition. Follow the link above for a preview.
Plus, don’t miss the other shows on the upper floors.
All are view through April 18th.

Organized Chaos

Self-Portrait ©2026 Elizabeth Fram, Gouache & Embroidery on paper, 6 x 8 inches This represents a couple of firsts: my first time painting a face using gouache and a first self-portrait. While I think the stitched pattern works well in this case, what I’m ultimately aiming for is to find a way to more fully integrate pattern, stitching and paint with each other.

I have an uncle who wrote a regular newspaper column for years. During family get-togethers, including major holidays, he would inevitably sequester himself from the family group for a bit so he could meet his deadline. I was just a kid, but still peripherally aware that his challenge included what to write about week after week; it never occurred to me then how personal that memory might become.

Bowl and Cup, in process ©2026 Elizabeth Fram This piece shows my most exciting discovery to date. I absolutely LOVE the almost batik-like effect of the pattern which lies underneath this image. Gouache’s inherent nature to reactivate with water has worked to my advantage here. That said, it’s also a very tricky operation. I haven’t had a chance to add stitching to this piece, but I have ideas…

There are weeks when I really struggle with what to post here. It’s not that I lack things to share, but rather the challenge can be figuring out how to weave together my behind-the-scenes loose ends in a presentable and, hopefully, interesting way. It’s one thing to make the work, another altogether to write about it coherently, especially when it’s in a place of transition.

Establishing an under-layer of pattern with paint as a first step.

Anyway, that’s the spot I find myself in this week – trying to articulate organized chaos. I’ve been plenty busy, but other than just showing you my progress, I lack a cohesive way to explain where I’m headed, especially since I’m not exactly sure yet where that might be. I’m puzzling my way through unknown territory and thus finding comfort in that discomfort.

In progress ©2026 Elizabeth Fram, Gouache on paper Look closely and you’ll see that I painted this portrait on top of the above under-layer. I learned a couple of important lessons to carry forward. Still planning to stitch on this one, but again, haven’t yet had time.

The one thing I know from experience is that the secrets I’m hoping to uncover will only float to the surface through doing the work. One has to venture down a lot of dead-ends before finding the road through.
I’ll have to ask my uncle if that’s how it worked for him too.

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A colorful reminder that Spring is on its way.

Out and About

Now that February has arrived, it’s been a lovely change to emerge from January’s hibernation to spend time catching up with friends and getting out and about to see art beyond my studio walls.

Susan, detail ©2026 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and Graphite on paper, 16.5″ x 18″ Drawing alongside like-minded souls is such a pleasure. Last week our model brought her fiddle and played while we drew/painted her. It was the essence of community.

Last week, three of us went to AVA Gallery in Lebanon, NH where we caught a terrific “two-fer”.
First was Eva Sturm-Gross’s exhibition “Beasts of Eden”.

The Watchers, Eva Sturm-Gross, Carved basswood

Representing a fragmented symbolic world, her sculptural and printed pieces refer to Biblical narratives expressed through the animals that dwell near her childhood home in the Upper Valley of New Hampshire and Vermont.

The Thief, Eva Sturm-Gross, Carved basswood, Relief print, Gold leaf and beeswax on paper

She often merges reality with myth.

Behold, Eva Sturm-Gross, Carved basswood, Relief print and beeswax on paper

According to the gallery notes, animal-headed figures are a common motif in medieval Jewish aesthetic culture. Sturm-Gross uses that device to convey a sense of the sacred found within the local landscape.

What Does the Lover Want From Love, Eva Sturm-Gross, Carved basswood, Relief print and beeswax on paper

This quality in her work speaks directly and convincingly to those of us who also find ourselves living in daily pace with the land and the creatures who surround us.

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Juni Van Dyke, These Beautiful Hands: A Tribute to Our Elders

Next, I felt a huge sense of connection with Juni Van Dyke’s installation “These Beautiful Hands: A Tribute to Our Elders”. Similar to my Full Bloom series of stitched portraits, her pieces directly challenge this country’s sadly all-too common attitude that value and beauty are diminished with age.

Juni Van Dyke, Plaster cast hands and hand-made paper: “Handholding. You do a lot of that when you raise children. When my daughter was eight and in the hospital with appendicitis, she held my hand and begged me not to leave. ‘When are you coming back?’ she pleaded. Now, somedays here (in the nursing home) I sit by my window and I know exactly how she felt.”

This series of cast-plaster hands, in conjunction with brief anecdotes gleaned in conversation during the casting process, represent, in Van Dyke’s words, a soul and a life well-lived.

Juni Van Dyke, Plaster cast hands and hand-made paper: “Heaven and Hell. I don’t care if there is or there isn’t. I’ve been through hell. Heaven is where I am right now. My doctor says ‘Keep doing whatever you’re doing’. I drink vinegar and pickle juice every day. I’m old and I feel great!”

Accompanying her installation of hands and quotes are a series of small oil paintings that Van Dyke created as a gesture of gratitude to the elderly — made for and about people she has known and loved, and for those who participated in her Beautiful Hands project.

Juni Van Dyke, The Gratitude Series, oil on board

Both exhibits are only open through February 14th, so you’d better hurry if you want to go.

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Finally, I have a must-see documentary recommendation.
Porcelain War, which can be streamed on PBS (expiring on March 1), is an incredibly moving portrayal of three artists who have chosen to remain in Ukraine “armed with their art, their cameras, and for the first time in their lives, their guns. A stunning tribute to the resilience of the human spirit, embodying the enduring hope and passion of ordinary people living through extraordinary circumstances.”

Porcelain War Poster

Here’s a link to the trailer.
I can’t use enough superlatives about this stunning piece. It is gorgeously filmed, absolutely heart-rending, yet simultaneously uplifting. Don’t miss it!

Start to Finish

I use mid-process photos as an invaluable tool to help me work my way through most new pieces. Photos give me a chance to evaluate what I’ve already done and, also, looking back over my progress at any given point generates ideas for next steps. It’s a means toward perspective via distance.

Fram Sketch

Making such a detailed initial sketch is not how I usually work.
But I’m currently in the midst of feeling my way toward something new and this kind of notation serves as a potential roadmap as I get my sea legs. A sketch is a means of working through possibilities (look closely to see plenty of erasures) and of recording specific ideas to keep in mind for later. In this instance, I was thinking especially in terms of value.

, Resist

Laying out the major elements with outlines of gouache sets my bearings. Next, I painted resist in specific areas (seen as barely visible yellowish lines around the leaf shapes and as hash marks surrounding the tube of paint in the lower right). My aim with this step is to create visual texture by preserving the white of the paper in a way that would be hard to do with paint alone.

Palette

Learning about color is never-ending. Choosing a limited palette simplifies and unifies.

First Layers

Beginning layers of paint get things underway. Gouache’s opacity gives me elbow room to tweak colors and change my mind in a way that isn’t possible with watercolor. It’s quite liberating.

Value

Value is such an integral part of color. Using my phone’s black & white mono filter helps me stay on track in terms of value.

First Stitches

Once the painting is done and the resist is removed, the stitching begins. This photo highlights that the work itself, together with intuition, dictates my direction far more strongly than any initial sketch. Rather than merely filling in the whole area on the left with needle weaving, as originally intended, I realized mid-way that the varying thread colors really made the pink ground pop – so why cover it? Plus, by not filling the area completely with stitches, that pause of pink serves as a bridge which highlights the “conversation” between the stitched area and the white marks on the red ground.

A stitched border extends the ideas found within the imagery, yet stands on its own. I’m attracted to the idea of wrapping common objects in pattern, texture and color to give them a sense of significance beyond their unassuming simplicity.

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This Hyperallergic article by Damien Davis is worth considering if you regularly pay application fees when submitting your work to exhibitions. If nothing else, it’s food for thought.