Color Splurge

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I splurged recently, using some of the proceeds from my Summer Stories Archival Sale to buy a deluxe set of 84 Neocolor II Aquarelle crayons.

Neocolor II

Years ago I somehow acquired a small, basic set of these crayons but never quite figured out how to feel comfortable using them. However, watching Emma Carlisle draw with them, and seeing what an integral part of her basic mixed-media kit these watercolor crayons are, I dug out my old set last spring and began to experiment.

Truthfully, I didn’t feel the love. They were sticky and just seemed clumsy and awkward. I wondered if I might have better luck with the non-soluble Neocolor I’s, so I picked up a small handful of open stock colors along with a single Beige Neocolor II at the Oakland brick and mortar Blick last May, figuring I’d give them a try.

What a difference!! – especially the Beige water soluble Neocolor II I sampled. I don’t know if Caran d”Ache changed the formula or, more likely, if surviving decades and multiple moves through various climates took a toll on my originals, but the ones I bought last spring were a completely different story. All the images in this post were created with the new Neocolor II’s I just bought.

They’re very creamy and glide going down on the page, they have fantastic coverage/opacity and the color of the Neocolor II’s can be easily moved around while becoming beautifully translucent when diluted with a watery brush. Both versions (I & II) can be layered over each other and mix well with colored pencils – although most successfully if the pencils are laid down first.
I was ready to invest.

Per usual, I spent a lot of time hemming and hawing over which set to buy – the 30? the 40? How many colors are enough and what would be too few? And then… a SALE! so I bought the set of 84 and now I’m in color heaven.

Trixie, detail. What I most enjoy about these Neocolors is they mix like paint while maintaining their drawing characteristics. Plus, the color is so rich!

Remember the thrill of opening a Crayola box that had 64 crayons and a built-in sharpener? Well, I’ve realized very happily that that’s a feeling some of us never outgrow.
…And, for a bit of election diversion this weekend, enjoy a quick peek at the history of Crayola colors – it’s pretty interesting.

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Speaking of the election…is anybody else feeling like this lately?

Seriously? ©2024 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and stitching on paper, 6×8 inches. I’ve been busy lately doing some preliminary work for a couple of new pieces. This figure/sketch was painted as part of that preparation. But reading about some of the unbelievable statements that have been made in the past week, this question – perhaps too mildly put – was top of mind.

There’s nothing else to say but get out there & VOTE!
See you on the other side.

Montreal Melange

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The closest “big city” to central Vermont is Montreal which, at only 2-1/4 hours away, is a virtual stone’s-throw and perfect for a get-away. We spent a couple of days and nights there earlier this month taking in some delicious meals, live jazz and plenty of fresh visual inspiration.

de Fil et De Papier signage

Most exciting was a visit to the current exhibition at MUMAQ – The Musée des Métiers d’Art du Québec (Québec Museum of Crafts). De Fin et De Papier (Thread and Paper) is an invitational show, curated by paper artist Marie-José Gustave; it includes the work of 8 artists, as well as her own.

One of the things I most appreciated about the museum itself is that everything is accessible and easy to see, often from several angles. And unlike the permanent collection, the work in De Fin et De Papier is not behind glass so it can be viewed closely enough to study the processes and workmanship of each delightful piece in minute detail.

Lâcher Prise, detail, Nithikul Nimkulrat. So wonderful to recognize the macrame knots we used to use to make plant hangers a million years ago reappearing to such beautiful effect in Nimkulrat’s etherial dresses

Ann Boscher’s work was by far my favorite in the show. I haven’t ever seen stitching on paper used to such effect…wonderful!

If you go, be sure to allow time to take in the permanent collection as well. There are wonderful examples of work made by numerous generations of Québequois fine craft and folk artists – in glass, ceramic, silver, wood-carving, textiles and more.

The museum building was formerly a new-Gothic church that had been dismantled stone by stone and then rebuilt at its current location when the land it originally sat upon was expropriated by the Canadian National Railway to make way for a new station. The building and collection together are a virtual treasure box.

We also visited the Montreal Botanical Garden. I realize it’s a bit ironic leaving rural Vermont, heading to the city and then spending a chunk of time wandering through gardens, but that’s who we are. In fact, because we covered so much ground across town this trip, I became more cognizant of how much care the city planners of Montreal have put into being sure to incorporate green space throughout their city.

If you’ve been before you’ll know the Botanical Garden is a stunner. But what struck me most this visit, despite the flagging fall blooms, was the thoughtful and diverse color combinations that are still vibrant. It would be lovely to spend an afternoon with a sketchbook making notes of the unexpected color blends for future reference.

Finally, Montreal is rich with public art.
Intrigued before our trip by reading about the Canadian Centre for Architecture Sculpture Garden, (designed by Montreal artist-architect Melvin Charney), I was anxious to see and walk among the (relatively) miniature buildings raised on columns. Surrounded by a lovely green space, the sculpture section of the park is compact and doesn’t take much time view.

Melvin Charney

The lasting impression is a lovely sense of harmony between its elevated art structures, sitting in a conversation of sorts with the neighboring high-rises. One doesn’t feel a giant amongst these small buildings, but because of them, nor does one feel dwarfed by the height of nearby towers.

Melvin Charney, Canadian Centre for Architecture Sculpture Garden

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I just watched “Grab a Hunk of Lightening“, a terrific documentary about photographer Dorothea Lange, via the Architecture + Design film series. It was a one-day event, but you can stream the film through Amazon, Apple TV or Google Play Movies for $2.99. For those who aren’t familiar with much of Lange’s work beyond her photographs of migrant workers during the depression, you are in for a treat.

Small, Thoughtful Steps

Remember the painted detail of the birds that I shared in my last post?
Here is the full painting, now complete.

I can’t necessarily explain this piece in the sense of telling a particular story, but I will say it’s a convergence of and meditation on a number of things: the passage of time, a feeling of grounding that is rooted in one’s sense of place, the idea of freedom in unrealized possibilities, and an overarching love for the changes that come with Autumn as the landscape readies for the dormancy of Winter. Hmmm – I guess even if it isn’t a story, that’s a lot to pack into 9″ x 12″.

Washi tape and masking fluid give me the ability to preserve various sections while working on others. Pencil lines rough in the suggestion of a background pattern in the upper right (which becomes more prominent as the piece evolves). If you look closely you can see that this pattern riffs off both the pointed house shape, which encloses the portrait, and the swooping lines of the hair.

While I always work on an entire painting all at once, I do toggle back and forth between elements because, as I move through each stage, every decision affects everything that comes after. An action taken in one area dictates the next step for another section.

Early layers of paint set up a backdrop

In other words, I depend upon a series of mindful steps that build upon each other. These images of the portrait within the painting give an idea of that progression.

Layers of Naples Yellow and Yellow Ochre connect the fore, mid, and background by adding dimension to the grasses, warming the tones of the face and carrying the sunset over from the left of the painting in the background. Washes and strokes of green link the hair, the eyes, the grasses and the field while offsetting the blue and yellow complementary undertones that had begun to dominate.

When sitting down to a freshly stretched sheet of paper, I may have a core idea of where I’m headed but I can always count on the fact that there will be plenty of changes and adjustments along the way, most of which relate to the nuts and bolts of process itself.

While initially I had planned to leave it out, adding a mouth soon felt necessary. The masking fluid that preserved the area for the sumac has been lifted in this picture. It’s always a relief to remove the washi tape or masking fluid so I can see the piece without the distraction of their strong colors.

In a way, every new piece is a wonderful sort of puzzle. Before the brush even touches paper, it’s necessary to think ahead to consider what might need to be done first (such as which elements to mask) and in what order each consecutive layer needs to be laid down. For the most part, the masking is really the only part of the process that rarely changes.

Masking the sumac branches and flowers in the foreground was the very first step after lightly penciling in the composition. Considering that masking fluid dries to a yellow-ish color, I had to consciously work to avoid letting it influence my surrounding color choices.

The stitched roof was a late decision. Not only does it further accentuate the curving pattern in the background but, more importantly, the added 3-dimensionality of the house/portrait combo makes a lot more sense, sitting in a landscape as it does – even though it isn’t meant to be a “real” house.

Incorporating stitching is usually the last step, but an element I’ve been thinking about before the first pencil mark even hit the paper. However, it too is influenced by what goes before, as noted in the caption above, and sometimes ends up being completely different from what I’d initially imagined.

It’s these small, thoughtful steps along the way, many of which can’t be predicted, that make a piece what it ultimately becomes. For the most part, I’ve learned it’s worth being patient, and trusting that the piece itself will lead me in the right direction.

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How many times have you read an article that challenges readers to name 3-5 women artists, correctly insinuating that it’s difficult to do in a culture that has historically ignored the accomplishments of women in our field?

Women Painters Book

When we were in Berkeley last month, I managed to find time — correction: I MADE time — to stop by Mrs. Dalloway’s – Literary and Garden Arts, a treasure of a local bookstore. I picked up a little gem that fit easily into my bag and that I think you might like too: An Opinionated Guide to Women Painters . It’s a concise compendium that covers, with images, “65 female artists from throughout history and across the world”. There are names you will recognize and plenty you won’t. The contributors have done their best to see that no one is stumped by the ‘name 5 female artists’ question again.

Field Trip

Vermont is in the midst of a roll of warm, sunny days.
And while we appear to be flirting with fall because daylight hours are getting noticeably shorter and the foliage is turning quickly, the past couple of weeks have felt decidedly more summer-like. Time for a field trip!

K. Grant Fine Art, 37 Green St., Vergenne, VT 802.922.4399 kgrantfineart.com

Last week we ventured to the other side of the Green Mountains, destined for Vergennes, to check out “Soft Openings“, the inaugural show at K. Grant Fine Art which opened its doors in August.

With abundant natural light pouring in the front widow, the gallery feels at once both intimate and spacious – a credit both to the nature of the building that houses it and gallerist/owner Kristen Grant’s curatorial chops. I was charmed.

Three irrepressible ceramic floral sculptures by Norwich artist Megan Bogonovich; she characterizes her work as a lovechild of Pierre Bonnard and Tony Smith. Bogonovich was featured on This is Colossal last May.

A painting by Cameron Davis’ that pulses with life, flanked by Pamela Fraser’s ceramic sculptures which are presented and exist as moveable pairs.

Paying a visit was spurred by Alice Dodge’s glowing review in 7 Days which gives a rounded depiction of the five exhibiting artists, their work, and of Grant herself. The article was enough of a teaser to pull me in and I found the show to be as vibrant as promised. In fact, I’m not sure there’s much I can add to Dodge’s assessment other than a few photos.

Pattern is the undercurrent that runs through all the work in “Soft Openings”. Rooted in nature, the energetically improvised paintings by Arista Alanis offer a sense of organization through her inclusion of pattern.

Pamela Fraser’s spiked ceramic piece is an apt counterpoint to Wylie Garcia’s spiraling floral bower.

Even though I had my favorites among the exhibitors, I walked away feeling that each artist’s voice confidently held its own in conversation with its exhibition mates, remaining distinct as an individual entity. That’s no small accomplishment in a group show.
“Soft Openings” closes on September 28th so there’s still a little more than a week to catch it if you can.

Left to right: Megan Bogonovich, Pamela Fraser, Wylie Garcia

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Despite the warmth and sun, I have Fall on the mind. The daily changes in color and texture surrounding us are filtering into my sketchbooks as well as my latest painting, detail above, which is still unfinished on the board and remains to be stitched. I’ve been approaching it in a measured way – not necessarily slowly, but with deliberation – working to pull all the elements together and think ahead to how stitching will complete its circle.

Such a Gift

From its inception, I have consciously kept this blog centered on my practice rather than delving any more than superficially into my personal life. This has been partly in an effort to respect my family’s privacy, but also to keep attention focused on the elements I am most interested in sharing within this space: the ideas, art and processes that grab my attention, inform my work, and which I hope will hold some interest for you as well. However, it’s delightful serendipity when occasionally the two legitimately overlap.

This post will be short and sweet as we have just returned from California where we celebrated one of life’s most joyous milestones – our son’s wedding. And quite frankly, I’m too spent, in the happiest of ways, to write very much.

©2024 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor, Colored pencil & White acrylic on paper, 3.5 x 5 inches. While I did bring my supplies, I only had time for one fleeting little sketch last week. The golden hills that are so ubiquitous along the roads and highways of Marin County are so striking – rich as they are with hints of Mars Violet and Burnt Ochre and dotted with the green of both isolated and clumped groups of trees.

But I’d like to take the time to share that it was my son who, when I was mulling over the idea of whether or not to begin a blog in 2014, most heartily encouraged me to dive in, dispelling any lingering fears that were causing me to hesitate. In the almost 10 years since, he has consistently been available – to consult about technical issues, to share authors and podcasts, and to support my nerdy enjoyment of productivity hacks so I could learn to juggle the many artistic and personal balls I want to keep up in the air.

In early June, he sent me the following article from The Convivial Society, which I just loved and knew would be perfect to highlight here sometime. Please read it – it’s a healthy helping of food-for-thought which resonates strongly, not only with ideas I, and maybe you, have been feeling instinctually in my gut (most closely expressing in this post from 2016,) but it is well-worth a read for anyone who works creatively and is wondering where the world of AI will lead us. At its core, it is an affirmation that we can hold onto the things that will always give us the advantage over technology. If nothing else, L. M. Sacasas’ theory would be a great jumping-off spot for future discussions.

Meanwhile, there is nothing more gratifying than realizing a loved one “gets” you by reaching out to engage the thoughts and quandaries that swirl around in your head, but which you may not have quite known how to articulate yourself. In sharing this essay, it’s clear my son is paying attention, and that is the greatest of compliments/gifts.

With that in mind, I’d like to dedicate this post to him and his bride as they embark on their bright future, with deep appreciation for the many, many contributions he, and now they, have made to enrich my journey, both in the studio and outside of it.

Here’s to you SBF & OGW…and from the bottom of my heart – thank you.

This Moment in Time

We’ve reached the 5th and FINAL week
of my Summer Stories Archival Sale!

Thank you so much for joining me along the way!

The five pieces described below are 20% off in my web shop, now through 11:59pm August 28th. Find them under the category “This Moment in Time”.
Use the coupon code Moments20 at checkout.
Collectors, don’t forget your special code for 30% off

The work discussed in this post directly addresses a facet of my practice that informs pretty much everything else – which, if you’ve been following along this summer, won’t come as a surprise. A large part of what spurs me to make art is no different than for most artists: the act of paying attention. Observing and appreciating common, often seemingly insignificant sights or moments gives me a grounded sense of connection with the world and my place in it. It’s a large part of what makes me tick.

Without intending it to be so, at least consciously, I always seem to be on the alert for the un/common things that make up the fabric of our routines. Or maybe it’s just that they are the spoonful of sugar that sweetens any regular day, so I’m inclined to notice. Regardless, finding ways to manifest and translate these discoveries through my work is a way to both hold onto them and to share them, knowing that others will also recognize the substance in their universality.

October Grasses

Our first fall in Vermont, fifteen years ago, we were so grateful to be here. That delight affected everything around us. The sky seemed unbelievably blue and the grasses along the roadside shimmered like gold in the bright sun. I hadn’t experienced autumn in Vermont since my college days, but the old exuberant feelings that accompanied the changeover from summer resurfaced with a vengeance as the temperatures dipped and the leaves turned.

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When Birds Fly South

As the days become noticeably shorter and the woods become quieter, the fields of northern Vermont turn to a beautiful mix of ochres and russet. One of the things I most appreciate about living in our rural state is being surrounded by so much open space. Looking into the distance – whether toward the mountains, or across a field that has been left wild or is well-tended by a farmer – is a luxury, one I appreciate every day.

As every Vermonter knows, the wildflowers and grasses by the side of our roads are in a constant state of flux. One becomes accustomed to what appears when, acknowledging each change as another marker of the passing weeks and months. As I have written here often, living within the seasons is a source of constant pleasure and inspiration for me.

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How does one capture the thoughts that rattle around in our heads? Ideas form and then break apart as they flicker in and out of focus, sometimes sticking like glue, other times flittering away into nothingness. Nebulous as these moments are, they have the power to elevate with excitement or to weigh one down like concrete, reverberating long after the moment has passed. They are the epiphanies that open windows and the regrets that isolate. It’s a phenomenon we all experience and have to learn to live with, in whatever way we can.

Fractured Thought

Lingering Comment

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Chipotle With Beets

Beautiful, unexpected color combinations show up in the most unusual places – one just has to keep an eye out for them. Finishing a lunch of whatever it was I’d made the night before that included chipotle and beets, I was struck by the gorgeous magenta and saffron-colored drippings that remained on my white plate. I snapped a photo and then went straight to the studio, looking to recreate that visual “zip”.

Chipotle with Beets detail, Textile Collage

My summer has flown! And now that we’ve reached the end of this project, in the words of our Looney Tunes friends…that’s all folks!

I hope you’ve enjoyed stepping behind the curtain with me this summer and that perhaps it’s given you a chance to consider some of the deeper layers of backstories behind your own work or the art you collect.

Final reminder: use the coupon code Moments20 for your 20% discount on the above pieces in my web shop. They will remain on sale through 11:59pm August 28th. Enjoy free shipping within the continental US.; these pieces are ready to hang. Thank you.

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Now it’s time to think about new projects as we head into fall. But first, I’m off for a much-anticipated and joyful family celebration that will undoubtedly hold many moments, large and small, that will eventually filter into future work. See you soon!

Transitions

It’s Week 4 of my Summer Stories Archival Sale!

The five pieces described below are 20% off in my web shop , now through 11:59pm August 14th. Find them under the category “Transitions”.
Use the coupon code Transitions20 at checkout.

Heraclitus said it best some 2500 years ago: There is nothing permanent except change.
In addition to the general unpredictability we all experience, I have moved between and lived in seven states throughout my adult life, so I feel it’s fair to say I know a bit about transition.

The expected and unexpected shifts that come just by virtue of being alive, whether monumental or ordinary, require grace and grit – often in equal measure. And always, our support systems are key.

With that in mind, thank goodness for Art. It’s been a faithful constant for me, offering a means for riding both the choppy and the smooth waves that accompany any upheaval in life and routine. The pieces I’m highlighting this week all mark a period of change that was beyond my control – sometimes a celebrated milestone, other times a harder knock that required a degree of perspective in order to make it through to the other side.

Considering the non-representational nature of the majority of these pieces, no one else could be expected to understand their significance absent my sharing their backstory. And as I’ve written this I’ve wondered, is sharing that history even necessary? Let the titles speak for themselves and, more importantly, perhaps with those breadcrumbs you can find in these pieces a connection to your own transitions.

Transcendent Eclosion

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Oasis

Oasis detail Quilting embroidery textile collage art quilt

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Passages, One

Passages, One ©2006, Hand dye, Hand appliqué, Machine and hand quilting/stitching & Hand embroidery on Silk and Cotton, 32″H x 33″W, SALE Price: $920. This piece has been shown around the world: from Philadelphia City Hall to Springfield, MO to the US Ambassador’s residence in Phnom Penh, Cambodia

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Passages, Two

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Waiting

Don’t forget your coupon code Transitions20

Only one more post of summer stories left. See you in two weeks!

Etudes

We’ve reached the mid-point!

Welcome to Week 3 of my Summer Stories Archival Sale!

The five pieces described below are 20% off in my web shop , now through 11:59pm July 31st. Find them under the category “Etudes”.
Use the coupon code Etudes20 at checkout.

But first, a quick check-in: I hope you are enjoying the stories I have been sharing this summer. Have you found anything surprising, relatable, confounding?
What I’ve discovered is that taking the time to look back helps me to see more clearly where I am going. And that is very rewarding.
Thanks for coming along for the ride.

Stand detail, textile collage, dye, applique, embroidery, quilting

I’ve called this latest section of my sale “Etudes” because each of these small pieces was just that – a study. While the dictionary’s definition of “etude” refers to a musical composition, the creative intention remains the same regardless of medium or discipline: “a piece designed as an exercise to improve the technique or demonstrate the skill of the player”.

With the basic building blocks of fabric, dye, thread and a needle, possibilities are only limited by one’s imagination. I’ve come to appreciate that fully exploring assorted processes in order to push the nuances of their potential is as integral to my practice as the concepts I am hoping to illustrate.

After moving to Vermont we built a house, customizing it to our personal quirks, desires and environmental goals. Topmost for me was that it include a roomy studio with a sink. That humble sink has given me the freedom to stretch beyond the copied “prints” on fabric I had been making previously, and to begin to explore surface design through many variations of Shibori dye techniques.

The small pieces you see here were created with the intent of finding new ways to incorporate the results of resist-dye explorations with a variety of sewn construction techniques, hand-stitched quilting and embroidery. They represent a mere scratching-of-the-surface of investigating and celebrating the rich artistic possibilities of textiles.

For years, a large part of my self-imposed directive has been to push the distinct qualities inherent to cloth and thread, honoring and highlighting them within my work for their unique visual and textural characteristics, rather than attempting to mimic processes and imagery that can be much more easily accomplished with paint or other media.

I love how these small works speak not just to a moment within my personal artistic development, but also to how, despite their small size, they reference the abundant potential of seemingly modest materials.

Book Form, Textile collage, Dye, Applique, quilting, embroidery

Book Form ©2011 Elizabeth Fram, Silk & cotton fabrics, Dye, Discharge, Paint, hand appliqué, Hand and machine quilted, Hand embroidered, 15″H x 21″ W, SALE Price: $440. If you’ve followed this blog for any amount of time you will know that reading is a huge part of my daily practice. This piece honors that love by using marks created with dye, paint and stitches, plus areas of pleated assembly, to mimic lines of text on a page beneath an open book.

Book Form, detail, Textile collage, Dye, Applique, quilting, embroidery

Book Form, detail © 2011 Elizabeth Fram The pattern on the black and gold fabric in the upper left corner was created by etching a design with a dull pencil into a styrofoam tray from a package of grocery store chicken. The resulting “plate” was rolled with textile paint and then used to create a mono-print on cotton.

Book Form, detail © 2011 Elizabeth Fram Black fabric, adorned with lines of masking tape and then sprayed with a diluted bleach solution created a lovely pattern of irregular lines once the tape was removed. Overlaying it with a sheer fabric allows that pattern to peek through, increasing a sense of depth. Lines of embroidered stitching follow the rhythm of the discharged pattern, also inferring a sense of text but with variations that imply handwritten rather than printed words.

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Stack, textile collage, quilting, embroidery, applique, dye

Stack ©2011 Elizabeth Fram, Silk & cotton fabrics, Wrapped-resist dye, Machine stitched, Hand quilted, Hand embroidered, 9″H x 9.5″W, SALE Price: $200. The following 4 pieces are part of what I have informally called my “motion series”. They all imply some form of movement or stance. When I made them, I had just completed an online class in Shibori dyeing that taught me the basics of a variety of ways to create pattern on cloth via stitched, wrapped and clamped resists.

Stack, detail, textile collage, quilting, embroidery, applique, dye

Stack, detail ©2011 Elizabeth Fram Combining samples of this newly dyed cloth with fabric from my stash brought me the same satisfaction as piecing together a puzzle. I particularly like the way the pleated sheer fabric on the left – which I had dyed separately – worked in tandem with the striated red and white arashi-dyed silk.

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Strut, textile collage, dye, applique, embroidery

Strut ©2011 Elizabeth Fram, Silk & cotton, Wrapped-resist dye, Hand appliqué, Hand quilted, Hand embroidered, 8.5″H x 8.5″W, SALE Price: $160 This piece is small but has a strong voice. Such is the power of color. For years, before I began trying my hand at surface design, I collected dupioni silks wherever I could find them, treasuring them for their saturated colors and iridescence. The confidence conveyed by these assertive hues is why I named this piece “Strut”.

Strut detail, textile collage, dye, applique, embroidery

Strut, detail ©2011 Elizabeth Fram When I first began making art with cloth, I ran through every fabric department I came across, collecting anything with unusual characteristics and potential. The damask-like rectangle that morphs from orange to violet, in the upper right of this detail photo, was a length of synthetic that I believe was intended as a dress fabric. It was so unusual, but incredibly versatile. Somehow it seemed to “fit” in almost everything I made, until all I had left were tiny slivers to insert here and there. Not only did I use it for the colors on its right side, but it’s reversible back side was silver with the black pattern, and I used it as the underbelly of a mackerel in one of my earliest pieces. Follow this link and scroll to the bottom of the post to see that fish.

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Tumble, textile collage, dye, quilting, embroidery

Tumble ©2011 Elizabeth Fram, Silk & cotton, Clamped and wrapped-resist dye, Discharge, Hand appliqué, Hand quilted, Hand embroidered, 9.5″H x 9″W, SALE Price: $200 Clamped-resist is a dye technique where you take two objects of the same shape and clamp them together on either side of the outside of a folded fabric bundle, sort of like two slices of sandwich bread. The results are a shadow image of their shape that appears on the cloth once the objects are removed and the dyed fabric is unfolded. A hardware store is a great place to find objects to use in this process, such as the oversized aluminum washers I used to create this donut shape.

Tumble detail, textile collage, dye, quilting, embroidery

Tumble, detail ©2011 Elizabeth Fram Stripes, marks, color & texture. These detail photos show the distance from which I see each piece as I am working on it. Can you begin to understand why I get so swept up in detail?

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Stand textile collage, dye, applique, embroidery, quilting

Stand ©2011 Elizabeth Fram, Silk & cotton, Stitched-resist dye, Hand appliqué, Hand quilted, Hand embroidered, 9.9″H x 9″W, SALE Price: $200 The challenge of bringing diverse elements together so that they look as though they were always meant to be a whole unit is a good part of what I loved about making the pieces in this series. I was looking for ways to create a conversation between all the ingredients so that, like a complex sauce, one can appreciate the individual components while savoring their intermingled results.

Stand, detail ©2011 Elizabeth Fram All the pieces in this post were made in 2011 and by now I’m sure you’ve noticed that in all but one I was using the device of rows of stitches, stacked on top of each other. Part of the beauty of going back through older work in detail is you notice things with fresh eyes. I think I have more to say with this particular way of stitching, so don’t be surprised if you see it in new work.

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And now, because I can’t resist…

Untitled, circa 1959-1962, Lynne Drexler, Farnsworth Museum of Art

We are back from a week in Maine and of course made our annual pilgrimage to the Farnsworth Museum. Perhaps because I’m looking back on the old, non-representational work in my sale, this year I was most taken with exhibits of abstract work by Lynne Drexler and – surprise! – Andrew Wyeth. I’m not going to write much about either here since you have already waded through the above. But I encourage you to check out the links and to read about both shows – they are beautiful and fascinating.

Untitled, 1991, Andrew Wyeth, Watercolor on Paper, Collection of the Wyeth Foundation for American Art While Drexler’s work is (stunningly) all about the color, I was quite moved by this exhibit of never-before-shown abstract works of Wyeth’s, which spanned six decades. His ability to capture a beautiful abstraction with vitality and immediacy blew me away. All the more so because we think of him as the quintessential realist. He is quoted as saying “My struggle is to preserve that abstract flash like something you caught out of the corner of your eye” , and very surprisingly, apparently referred to himself on numerous occasions as an abstract artist.

Don’t forget to use the coupon code Etudes20 for your 20% discount in my web shop. These five pieces will remain on sale through 11:59pm July 31st. Enjoy free shipping within the continental US.; these pieces are ready to hang.

The next sale will begin with my August 8th blog post in two weeks.
Keep an eye on my web shop, as the next five pieces will be available to preview soon after this sale ends. You can find them under the category “Transitions”.

Life As We Know It

Welcome to Week 2 of my Summer Stories Archival Sale!

The five pieces described below are 20% off in my web shop, now through 11:59pm July 17th.
Use the coupon code Life20 at checkout.

Although these pieces span an 8 year period, they all speak to something that was top of mind for me when I made them: how do I juggle the many ingredients of every busy day, accomplishing what needs to be done while still making room for creativity? I had considered labeling this category “Parenthood” because that was my main directive during those years. But in retrospect, so many of the issues that I was confronting were hardly unique to being a parent – or any particular stage of life. Balancing limited hours, bumps in the road, being mindful of one’s actions and looking back to consider how to improve are just a part of life as we all know it.

As I mentioned in my last post, although I had the luxury of a full room to devote to art-making, my studio space was limited in terms of the materials I could use and how messy I could be with them. I had reached the point where I wanted to explore surface design in order to stretch beyond store-bought fabrics and to customize the cloth I was using in my work, but I needed to find ways to accomplish that within the constraints of my space.

The bottom line is that any perceived stumbling block can also be a call to ingenuity.
At the time, taking family photographs to the local copy shop to have customized tee shirts printed was very popular. In fact, we did just that before a large family celebration of my grandfather in-law’s 100th birthday. It got me to thinking: if one could print photos on cloth with clarity, why couldn’t that be true of a drawing or a painting?

I began to experiment with a couple of approaches.
Using oil pastels, I made abstract drawings, taking them to my copy shop to have them copied and then transferred onto cotton sateen fabric which I supplied. There was a learning curve; the colors of the copy appeared much more saturated than my original drawings and the resulting fabric didn’t have quite the same soft “hand” that it had before being printed with the transfer, but for my purposes it was a total success!

The best aspect of the copied transfers was that they picked up every textural detail from the surface of my originals. In addition to the oil pastels, I painted on brown paper grocery bags – a process that allowed for the texture of my brush strokes and for the wrinkles and folds inherent to the bags to appear on the finished printed fabric. I also made collages with the paintings before having them copied and printed, a process that presented the opportunity to have a collage effect within the printed image rather than only achieving a collage afterward by cutting the fabric and re-sewing it together.

Keep in mind, this was well before the existence of Spoonflower. How much easier and more exact this process would be for me today! But now I see these pieces as markers of possibility, both in terms of circumventing creative obstacles and in regard to a specific season within my own journey.

Thanks for being here!

Compartmentalized

Compartmentalized ©2003 Elizabeth Fram, Silk, cotton & synthetic fabrics, Heat transfer of original oil pastel drawing, Machine pieced, Hand appliqué, Machine and hand quilted, Hand embroidered, 17″H x 17″W, SALE Price: $400. This was one of my first stabs at incorporating fabric that I had designed, made from transfers of an oil pastel drawing. This piece speaks to the fact that life at the time was a series of stops and starts, all sorted into various compartments that required constant tending and nurturing so that nothing fell through the cracks.

This photocopy of my drawing was used for the transfer print in Compartmentalized. I only used a tiny section of it in the finished quilt, cutting and sewing together small areas of the printed fabric to add within the piece.

Compartmentalized, detail ©2003 Elizabeth Fram If you look closely, you can recognize the orange section from the far right of the copied drawing above, and also see that the copy’s image was reversed in the process of printing it on fabric.

Compartmentalized, detail quilted and embroidered

Compartmentalized, detail ©2003 Elizabeth Fram The textural “conversation” between quilting, embroidery and a variety of fabrics, all in chorus together, is a huge part of my attraction to working with textiles.

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Room For Adjustment

Room for Adjustment ©2004 Elizabeth Fram, Silk, cotton & synthetic fabrics, Discharge, Direct drawing with colored pencil, Pieced and appliquéd, Hand and machine quilted, Hand embroidery, 26″H x 51″W, SALE Price: $760. Becoming a parent was the perfect proving ground for realizing that no matter how much you try to get everything perfectly lined up, something will invariable throw your plans to the wind. Once this work was pieced together it felt just a bit too organized and stagnant. Taking a huge leap of faith, I sliced it right down the middle, readjusting so that it was slightly off-kilter. I can be very brave in my work, maybe not so much in life. Take a risk, try something radical, make room for adjustments.

Room for Adjustment detail colored pencil

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Unexpected Circumstances

Unexpected Circumstances ©2004 Elizabeth Fram, Silk, cotton & synthetic fabrics, Heat transfer of original oil pastel drawing, hand appliquéd, Hand and machine quilted, Hand embroidery, 37″H x 31″W, SALE Price: $640. There’s no getting around it – sh*t happens. You can either fight it or go with it. At the end of the day, as my husband’s centenarian grandfather would say, we all just do the best we can.

For Unexpected Circumstances, I made an oil pastel drawing and then had it copied in both black & white and colored versions. I brought those copies home and re-configured them by cutting and combining the two iterations in a new conglomeration of both. It was this resulting collage that I had transferred onto fabric and used within this piece, as seen directly below.

Unexpected Circumstances, detail ©2004 Elizabeth Fram While it’s all but impossible to see in this photo, I embroidered with dark blue thread on top of the printed collage, adding to the energy of the pastel marks captured in the fabric transfer.

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Tadasana

Tadasana ©2011 Elizabeth Fram, Silk & cotton, Paint, Dye, Hand appliquéd, Hand and machine quilted, Hand embroidery, 31″H x 19″W, SALE Price: $520. Tadasana is the word for Mountain Pose. This piece was made on the heels of a very busy and at times stressful period in our lives. I had been maintaining a very modest but regular yoga practice and found it was a huge help. This piece honors the peace and grounding I found through both that practice and our return to Vermont, the Green Mountain State.

Tadasana, detail ©2011 Elizabeth Fram This piece includes a bit of very contained mono-printing, made a couple of years before inserting it here. Textile paint and minimal dyeing were wet processes that I could explore in a friend’s studio and our garage. The embroidery (in white, by the stroke of yellow paint) is subtle, but integral to the pattern.

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Hindsight

Hindsight ©2006 Elizabeth Fram, Silk & cotton, Heat transfer of original painting, Hand appliquéd, Machine and hand quilted, Hand embroidered, 34.5″H x 24″, SALE Price: $600. Slowly working through the time-consuming and methodical processes of hand sewing gives one plenty of time to think and to look back on past actions and discussions. It’s in my nature to reflect on what went right, what went wrong and how one might approach things in the future. And isn’t that also a large part of trying to do one’s best at parenting? In some ways, such mulling is much like collage – a piecing together of known elements into a new configuration.

This is the original collage I created for Hindsight. Although made initially to become a fabric transfer, I went through a brief period of composing collages with painted brown paper as an exercise in-and-of itself. They weren’t made with exhibiting in mind, and certainly aren’t archival, rather they were an exercise done for fun and for myself alone.

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And finally, a quick look into the studio as promised…

When I first began this piece I was only planning to paint the eyes and to leave a lot of white space surrounded by monochromatic stitching. But as the work progressed it seemed to have its own ideas, one thing leading to another, until here we are. I’m still wrestling with the stitching on the face, but there’s something about it that won’t let me go. So I guess that’s just to say I have a lot to consider moving forward. I am learning from others’ responses that the house form is perhaps too subtle to be seen without prompting. That’s also something to think about for future pieces.

Meanwhile…

The Equivalents

I am so happy to have received this book from an Eye of the Needle reader. Not only was it a much appreciated gift in general terms, but also in light of one of the themes running through this post (reread my very first sentence). I had planned to put it aside for later in the summer, but once I began its introduction while eating lunch last week, I couldn’t put it down. It revolves around 5 artists/writers and their participation in the Radcliffe Institute for Independent Study. Were you aware of this fellowship opportunity for “intellectually displaced” women? It offered its fellows “a stipend, an office, access to Harvard’s libraries and professors and the gift of unfettered time”. That’s an opportunity we all might aspire toward; in the early 1960s it was unimaginable. Fascinating and highly recommended!

Don’t forget to use the coupon code Life20 for your 20% discount in my web shop. These five pieces will remain on sale through 11:59pm July 17th. And don’t forget, free shipping within the continental US, with hanging slats included.

The next sale will begin with my July 25th blog post in two weeks.
Keep an eye on my web shop, as the next five pieces will be available to preview soon after this sale ends. You can find them under the category “Etudes”.

Japanese Gardens

Welcome to the first post of my Summer Stories Archival Sale!

As a reminder, the five works below are now on sale in my web shop at 20% off the regular price. Use coupon code Garden20 at checkout.

For anyone joining in for the first time, these works will be available at the sale price for one week. Sale ends at 11:59 pm July 3rd.

On to this week’s stories:

In my mid-twenties, I was incredibly fortunate to have been invited by a well-to-do elderly cousin on a tour of China, with stops in Japan and Hong Kong bookending the trip. She tapped me to accompany her as a female companion, and I felt at the time as though I was stepping into a Henry James novel. Of course it was an incredibly formative adventure in many ways.

For an untraveled young woman from New England, floating down the Yangtze for a couple of weeks, taking in the many wonders along the way, was unbelievable. It’s hard to describe what it felt like to suddenly be physically within a landscape that, while so different from the West, seemed achingly familiar considering the imagery I had encountered while studying Asian art in college. It was like walking into a dream.

Throughout the trip, I fell in love with the aesthetic sensibilities and detailed workmanship of both China and Japan, a quality that seemed to permeate so many aspects of their day-to-day lives. I became especially smitten with the gardens we visited, particularly in Tokyo. Since then I have sought out Japanese gardens wherever possible — Portland, Seattle, Montreal, San Francisco, Hawaii — the lists goes on. And some twenty years after my trip, in the midst of raising our growing, busy family, I began to consider Japanese gardens as a source of inspiration for my artwork.

I chose to switch from paints and pastels to art quilts when our children were very young since, as a medium, the non-toxic nature of fabric and sewing fit easily within an erratic schedule filled with interruptions and curious little fingers. As time progressed and our family life became busier, I found myself returning to Japanese gardens for the insights – parallels even – they provided to life and art. And, during that busy, busy period, I often found myself seeking the overarching sense of tranquility they represented.

I wrote in one of my artist statements at the time: “Through the garden’s deftly controlled organic and geometric forms, a sense of organized quiet overtakes the potential chaos of a living, growing, ever-changing environment”.

Looking back, that description might well be a metaphor for what art-making brought to my daily routine with busy teenagers. I was definitely in search of organized quiet and sought to create it with my art. The slow processes of hand-sewing and embroidery were a way to carve out a corner of calm. Plus, as it turns out, drawing a comparison between the gardens and my day-to-day was yet another way to acknowledge beauty in the ordinary, an idea that has remained a mainstay of my work.

Autumn Leaf on Wet Stones

I love Autumn and I love rainy days…all the better for being productive in the studio.
Light reflected off the wet flagstones of our Pennsylvania walkway, plastered with fallen leaves from the nearby Japanese maple, was a beautiful marker of the season.

Pennsylvania walkway with Japanese maple leaves

A picture of our wet, leaf-strewn PA walkway

Discharging fabric (removing color via bleach or other chemicals to create surface patterns) proved a wonderful way to capture this quality of light and wetness. A small hand-dyed orange rectangle, backed with gold metallic fabric, then embroidered in shades of red, orange and cream, references the poetry of a single fallen leaf.

The swath of ombre reddish/orange to gold fabric on the right provides balance – a compositional device learned through studying Asian art, as well as visiting Japanese gardens and reading about Ikebana flower arranging. It is also a nod to my personal preference for asymmetry. The arc could be interpreted as the path of a falling leaf, but it is also an element that I repeated in a number of works made around that time.

I still have a length of the sheer, synthetic ombre fabric (left) used in Autumn Leaf and a number of other artworks. It looks a lot more Spring-like when backed by white board as in this photo, but laid over black silk it offers the perfect Autumn palette. At one point I ran across a shop that carried lightweight metallic fabric in a variety of colors (right) and I bought a little of every color they had on hand. It doesn’t take much, but that small touch of metallic gold peaking out from behind the embroidered “leaf” gives it the punch it needs to hold its own in the midst of the more somber expanse of the rest of the piece, while simultaneously echoing the length of color on the right.

Incorporating a variety of unexpected fabrics, such as the examples above, became a central component in my art quilts. I looked for interesting and unusual fabrics everywhere, especially when traveling, certain that whatever I brought home would eventually be the perfect element for a future piece. The more unusual the texture or quality of the fabric, the better. Needless to say, over time I have amassed a wonderful collection.

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Sunlight on the Forest Floor

Despite the deep shade underneath a tree canopy, the colors within a forest are rich and lovely. Any walk in the woods calls to mind the magic of fairy tales through the awesome beauty of nature. Watching my step on forest trails, I have always been struck by the sometimes subtle, sometimes vibrant contrast between the vast variety of greens and yellows, paired as they are with the russet brown of the soil.

Sunlight on the Forest Floor, detail Art Quilt embroidery

Sunlight on the Forest Floor, detail ©2004 Elizabeth Fram Curving embroidery snakes through an open area of red-brown fabric, surrounded by quilting that echoes its shape. The hand-made stitches are reminiscent of fallen pine needles or, taken as a whole, perhaps a dropped branch.

Walking along, one can’t help but notice the places where the sun breaks through the tree cover above. Those areas always seem to be places of enhanced sensory details – such as the scent of balsam needles, leaves glistening with moisture, or the intricacies of spider webs, standing out as the masterworks of complexity they are.

Collaging diverse fabrics together is one way to call to mind the universal nuances of such an encounter while encouraging the recall of a viewer’s personal memories.

Sunlight on the Forest Floor, detail ©2004 Elizabeth Fram Again, an eclectic choice of fabrics best conveys the impressions of everything mentioned above. The sparkling iridescent “fabric” in the center of this piece is cut from a party favor bag, left over from one of my daughter’s birthday parties. The discharged fabric (red and tan) began as red, but once discharged the underlying color was tan, not white as one might expect.

Sunlight on the Forest Floor Detail, Art Quilt

The unusual base fabric on the right side of the piece is an example of a special find. It is a synthetic composed of three layers, blue, gold and red. I’ve separated them above so you can see the individual components. I thought this fabric was perfect for conveying the beauty and complexity of soil that is rich in organic matter.

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Riffle

Water features are a key element in any Japanese garden. We’ve never included water in our home gardens because we didn’t want to attract mosquitoes. But water adds so much to a garden experience, and it’s extra special when you can cross it via stepping stones.

Riffle, detail © 2005 Elizabeth Fram This piece is an example of painting directly on fabric, not printing, but painting with a brush. I tore strips of tape and placed them on the cloth to create a mask, then painted in the spaces between. Each area of color is surrounded with hand quilting. On the vertical area to the right, the regularity of large hand stitches and machine-stitched quilting creates a contrast with the more organic painted areas on the left.

A riffle is the rippling on the surface of water, so not only does the word conjure a visual image, but also one of sound. The trickling of water is integral within most Japanese gardens. I pushed myself to interpret the idea of a riffle in four different ways: discharge patterning, quilting, pleating, and with paint.

Riffle, detail © 2005 Elizabeth Fram I have incorporated many sheer fabrics in my work throughout the years, appreciating their transparency and the multitude of ways they might be manipulated for a variety of textures. I created water-like pleating in the block of sheer fabric on the left by pressing those irregular “pleats” into the fabric before appliquéing it to the green background. Each shape was hand-quilted in place to emphasize the effect.

Riffle is essentially a series of mini compositions within one big overall composition, a challenge I set for myself that is reminiscent of how turning every corner within a Japanese garden often creates a new, equally enticing view of the same plants – just from a different angle. I greatly admire those gardeners’ design aptitude, both in creating a puzzle to unravel, and as a skill to strive for.

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One Mossy Stone

There are three things I most admire about moss: its jewel-like color, its velvety texture, and the fact that it seems to thrive on so little. I love the fact that even in the early days of Spring, moss pokes through the thinning snow with all the vibrancy of mid-summer. It is such a seemingly simple plant and yet so complex, very much like a raked Zen garden.

One Mossy Stone, detail ©2007 Elizabeth Fram The green of the stone was made by painting on interfacing. It is an example of creating my own surface design rather than relying solely on fabrics with ready-made, preprinted designs. I will write more about those explorations in one of my future story posts.

Raked gardens with thoughtfully placed large stones evoke islands floating in the sea. If those stones are covered with moss, the green stands out in such beautiful contrast to the grey of the raked gravel, creating a wonderful convergence of color with texture. One Mossy Stone speaks to the strength of that contrast.

If you look closely at this thread which was used within the center of the mossy “stone” above, you will see that it is slightly variegated between green and blue. It was hand-dyed by a Pennsylvania artist friend.

I am a big fan of variegated thread although I have never tried dyeing it myself. While I used it sparingly in this piece, as seen in the detail image above, it is a linchpin in most of my current stitched paintings, valued for its nuance and the color variations it makes possible within a very small area.
The brownish wool thread, to the left of the “stone” in the same detail image above, mimics the brown/ochre colors in the small fabric square nearby, enhancing a sense of definition and connection.

One Mossy Stone, detail ©2007 Elizabeth Fram Texture is such a major component of Japanese gardens, as it is for an art quilt. Discovering new ways to create texture with stitch became a means toward forging a strong connection between what I was making and the gardens that inspired me. The textural variations within the white-on-white and blue-grey areas of this piece create an active dynamic within largely monochromatic areas.

A couple of my favorite books during the time period One Mossy Stone was made were Being Home by Gunilla Norris and Plain and Simple by Sue Bender. Akin to a Zen garden, they highlight the strength to be gleaned by slowing down and appreciating simplicity.

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That First Peony

With all the rain we’ve had in the past week, our peonies are on their way out, but it has been a glorious year for them.
In my Pennsylvania garden, the peonies bloomed much earlier than they do here in Vermont. I often didn’t have a chance to clear the winter clutter beneath them until the first was already blooming. The contrast between the newly cleared soil (represented in brown silk on the right side of the piece) with the glorious first fully opened peony blossom, was always a thrill.

That First Peony, detail ©2007 Elizabeth Fram The central red/pink/green section, which represents the peony blossom, was cut from a relatively small mono-print on cotton fabric that I made using acrylic paint and textile medium. I was very excited by the brushstrokes which stood out so well on my plexiglass printing surface, transferring beautifully to the fabric.

This piece is another example of my experimentations with printing/dyeing my own patterns on fabric. They are pretty tame because, at the time, my studio was our wall-to-wall carpeted 4th bedroom. Obviously there was no sink and very little extra space, so not at all conducive to working with wet and messy processes.

That First Peony, detail ©2007 Elizabeth Fram The cream-colored silk with green patterning was one of my first forays into dyeing. I find it amusing how tentative the color appears to me now – and yet it is the perfect counterpoint to the all the stronger colors in this piece. It is a suitable ground for the embroidered curving lines that were enhanced by hand-quilting on either side. The textural effect of the small lime green square in the center was created by hand-quilted stippling.

This piece was chosen through the Art in Embassies program to hang in the US Embassy at Riga, Latvia for four years. If you aren’t familiar with this program, it is a wonderful vehicle of diplomacy via art that was begun during the Kennedy administration.
The US State Department treats the art they borrow (and the artists they borrow from) with tremendous respect and deference. It has been a true honor to be asked to participate, with my work hanging in the US Embassies of both Riga and Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

That First Peony, detail ©2007 Elizabeth Fram Embroidery has been an integral part of my work since my very first art quilt. Not only does it create unique textures and marks that cannot be replicated by a machine, but by virtue of being hand-worked, I think it draws/encourages a somewhat personal connection between the viewer and myself.

Phew! You made it to the end!
Should you feel a connection with any of these pieces, don’t forget to use the coupon code Garden20 for your 20% discount in my web shop. These five pieces will remain on sale through 11:59pm July 3rd. And don’t forget, free shipping within the continental US and hanging slats are included.

The next sale will begin with my July 11th blog post in two weeks.
Keep an eye on my web shop, as the next five pieces will be available to preview soon after this sale ends. You can find them under the category “Life As We Know It”.

Thanks for your interest and see you in two weeks!

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We’ve reached the 5th and FINAL week of my Summer Stories Archival Sale!

October Grasses

When Birds Fly South

Fractured Thought

Lingering Comment

Chipotle With Beets

It’s Week 4 of my Summer Stories Archival Sale!

Transcendent Eclosion

Oasis

Passages, One

Passages, Two

Waiting

We’ve reached the mid-point!

Welcome to Week 3 of my Summer Stories Archival Sale!

Welcome to Week 2 of my Summer Stories Archival Sale!

Compartmentalized

Room For Adjustment

Unexpected Circumstances

Tadasana

Hindsight

Welcome to the first post of my Summer Stories Archival Sale!

Autumn Leaf on Wet Stones

Sunlight on the Forest Floor

Riffle

One Mossy Stone

That First Peony

We’ve reached the 5th and FINAL week
of my Summer Stories Archival Sale!