Part 2: Tapestries, Portraits and Gardens – Oh My!

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Welcome to Part 2 of my post about Scotland. If you missed Part 1, feel free to jump back to take a look. Today I’m moving on to gardens and other miscellaneous delights.

Strolling through a well-designed garden is, artistically speaking, every bit as rewarding as wandering the galleries of a museum. While inherently different, they are wonderfully similar. Visiting a museum is akin to stepping into a time capsule to witness freeze-frame moments caught in time. But while a garden within an historic setting may bring the past to mind, one is still always conscious that what surrounds us is never still; it is constantly growing and transforming.

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Nothing is more the child of art than a garden.” -Sir Walter Scott

Abbotsford, the home (“palace of imagination”) of novelist Sir Walter Scott, is situated on the River Tweed and looks like an illustration from a fairy tale.

Taking in this view, I couldn’t help but think of Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson’s poem The Land of Counterpane. which my mother read to me when I was very young and home sick.

Scott created three successive gardens.

My favorite was the walled kitchen garden which covers an acre and apparently looks much the same as it would have in Scott’s time. It is a mix of flowers and scented plants, herbs, fruits, vegetables.

Separate from the house gardens, there is also a mini-sculpture garden/woods walk on the property. With a name like “Witch Corner”, I couldn’t resist. The chainsaw sculptures are inspired by Scott’s writing.

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Dating back to 1372, Glamis Castle was the childhood home of Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother of Elizabeth II. Frankly, I was more interested in the fact that it is said to have been the inspiration for Shakespeare’s Macbeth.

The Italian Garden at Glamis Castle

The two house-shaped allées captured my heart immediately

Having never seen a Himalayan Blue Poppy before, our timing was perfect.

Turrets, blue poppies and a house-shaped allée – definitely not in Kansas (or Vermont) anymore

A garden can claim innumerable artists — botanical wizards who have contributed their personal brushstrokes across years and trends. Unlike Whistler’s Mother who will still be seated stoically in her black dress and lace cap next year and next century, the garden you wander through today will be different from that of yesterday, tomorrow, or any other day – ever.

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Branklyn Garden in Perthshire is a 2 acre hillside garden, created in 1922 using seeds collected by plant hunters. It is now overseen by the National Trust for Scotland.

I took lots of photos but this one, with that central red rib in the midst of all the different shades of green, is the one I find most inspiring.

Other than hoping to avoid crowds and midges, we had no particular goals or expectations of Scottish gardens in early May. But luck was with us. Those we visited were much farther along than anticipated, offering bursts of color for winter-weary eyes.

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Drummond Castle Garden is a horse of a completely different color.

The sculpted trees and variety of foliage are spectacular – even at this early point in the season.

The shapes and shadows made me feel as though I’d been dropped into Alice in Wonderland

The variety of foliage colors hold their own – no blooms necessary

The lean of some of the trees made them seem on the verge of coming to life in a Disney-esque sort of way. So while on the one hand this was a very serious garden, it also comes across with a lovely sense of humor.

This short video shows the grandeur far better than I can.

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Jupiter Artland is a sprawling sculpture garden that also includes a couple of indoor exhibition spaces. It is magnificent, with trails that wind through woods, across fields and by beautiful water features.

Stone Coppice, Andy Goldsworthy

Bonnington House (in the distance) is a private home situated in the center of Jupiter Artland. Such hedges!

Cells of Life, Charles Jenks. Magical terraced earthworks embedded with paths allowing one to climb to the top for an expansive view.

Weeping Girls, Laura Ford. Figures hand carved from waxes. Cast in found objects. Patinated and painted bronze. This was one figure among a series of girls, all of whom projected a mysterious and melancholic aura to the grove of trees where they were strategically placed. Don’t we all have days like this?

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And then a couple of miscellaneous gardens…

National Heather Collection at the Rodney Gardens Park in Perth

The King’s Knot at Stirling Castle was constructed for Charles I between 1627-9. It is covered in grass now, but it was originally designed as an ornamental garden.

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And finally, I leave you with the “Oh My!” These are a few of the things that don’t fit neatly into any category, but are pure visual enjoyment – seeds, even, for possible future work.

Before we left I had read about these two gravestones, unique in their elaborate depiction of Adam and Eve. It became something of a scavenger hunt to find them, but it was definitely worth the search.

Loved the sign, loved even more the colors of stone in this building near Edinburgh Castle

These textured house shapes surrounding a doorway in Edinburgh Castle caught my eye immediately.

The Kelpies, Designed by Andy Scott. These massive horse heads, built of steel, refer to the shape shifting water-horses of Scottish folklore.

Finally, I always research art supply stores before any trip. It’s hard to beat the charming exterior of this one, where I found some khadi paper that easily fit in my carry-on and is now waiting in the wings for future paint and stitch.

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Now, it’s back to Vermont.
I’m very much looking forward to the opening of Full Bloom on Saturday!
If you’re around, please join me at The Satellite Gallery, 71 Depot Street, Lyndonville, VT for the opening from 5-7pm. The show will be up thorough the 4th of July weekend.

The gallery director sent me this photo after she’d hung the show. I’m thrilled that she decided to include several of my “Sheltering in Place” houses as well.

Tapestries, Portraits and Gardens – Oh My! (Part 1)

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I’m half joking, but Warning! This post is long. Even still, there is so much to cover that I’m going to split it in half and will be back with Part 2 next time. Meanwhile, I’ve tried my best stay heavy on images, light on words. I’ve sprinkled in lots of links so you can explore further.

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My head is spinning on the heels of our recent trip to Scotland – there was inspiration everywhere! So many of my favorite things: textiles, portraits, gardens and more! I always come home from being away feeling like my brain got a good airing out. The best souvenir is plenty of fresh things to think and read about, setting the stage for, if not a reset, at least additional perspectives to bring back to the studio.
Here we go…

Tapestries:
The Great Tapestry of Scotland
Dovecot Studios
The Hunt for the Unicorn at Stirling Castle

The Great Tapestry of Scotland is housed in its own museum, about an hour south of Edinburgh in the Scottish Borders textile town of Galashiels. Created by 1000 stitchers, it’s no exaggeration to say it is a 160-panel masterpiece that covers the broad scope of Scottish history, along with everyday stories of the Scottish people.

We went directly to Galashiels to see the Tapestry after our red-eye landed, albeit a bit bleary-eyed. However, no need for an energy boost once in the presence of all the amazing stitch-work. This is Panel #1.

First impressions: each panel is HUGE (about a meter square), most are brilliantly colorful and all are quite ingenious in their depiction of chosen subject. The panels were designed by Andrew Crummy, but the masterfully stitched intricacy, diversity and expertise are all a credit to the individual stitchers.

This detail of Panel 1 (seen in full above) is a mere taste of what is to follow.

Before we left Vermont, knowing how overwhelming it would be to try to take in such a massive display during one brief visit, I purchased Alistair Moffat’s The Great Tapestry of Scotland book which shows and describes each panel in detail. Pouring over and reading the particulars ahead of time gave me a chance to become better acquainted with the history and meaning behind the panels, including improvisations which were allowed stitchers in order to underline their personal connection with the event portrayed on the panel they stitched.

Panel 126 – “Fair Isle” As a knitter, I loved this panel. Fair Isle is known for a traditional style of knitting made popular when the Prince of Wales, later to reign briefly as Edward VIII, took to wearing Fair Isle knitted sleeveless jumpers to play golf in the early 1920s. Very colorful with finely worked horizontal geometric patterns, these designs were trending then, and still are.

Having a bit of a leg up allowed me to concentrate more fully on the stitchwork; the remarkable way in which various details were depicted was captivating.

Detail of Panel 64 – “The First School for Deaf and Dumb Children” Just look at the way the curls of this teacher’s wig, as well as his shirt sleeves and waistcoat, are realized!

Detail of Panel 74 – “James Hutton’s Theory of the Earth” That hair!

Detail of Panel 87 – “The Growth of Glasgow” So many details in this small section of panel. If you too are curious about the fish with the ring in its mouth, read on.

Beyond the artistry, the finished tapestry is a remarkable community accomplishment that includes the work of 1000 participants from the whole of Scotland. I could have written several posts on the Tapestry alone, but there’s more to see.

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Moving on…

Dovecot Studios in Edinburgh is a working tapestry studio and gallery. When I asked how their weavers were selected, I think the woman thought I was looking for a job. Ha! She told me that it had been 10 years since they last hired someone – only master weavers. The Studios support an apprenticeship program and I believe their weavers tend to come directly from that pool.

Looking down on a tapestry in progress from the viewing balcony, which also doubles as a gallery space. The monumental weavings on the far wall were created by Ptolemy Mann. The studio was silent, the weavers were in their own worlds, with headphones on.

As if seeing the working weavers wasn’t enough, we were also able to take in the current exhibition “The Scottish Colourists: Radical Perspectives” in the Dovecot Studios expansive lower gallery space. If you read Art & Object, perhaps you caught the accompanying review? My education never even touched upon Scottish art history, so this was a treat.

Jessica Dismorr, Landscape with Figures, 1911-12, Oil on Panel. So many wonderful works – this was the one I would have brought home, if allowed.

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The Hunt for the Unicorn is a set of 7 tapestries in the Queen’s Inner Hall of Stirling Castle. They are a recreation and reinterpretation of tapestries that appear in castle inventories from the 16th century. The recreation was a monumental 14-year endeavor which enlisted a team of 18 weavers from across the world.

This photo taken from the web shows the grandeur of the recreated tapestries. The colors and details are spectacular, giving one an idea of how awe-inspiring the originals would have been, especially to 16th century visitors. For more photos, follow this link.

Stirling Castle was the childhood home of Mary Queen of Scots and, with extensive research, the palace interiors have been recreated as they may have looked in the 1540s during the reign of Mary’s father, James V.

One can visit the on-site tapestry workshop where the modern version of The Hunt for the Unicorn was made. One can read extensive information there about the details of the tapestries’ creation, and see samples that were created in preparation. If you’re interested in going further into the weeds of this extensive project, read this.

And now…
Portraits:
The Scottish National Portrait Gallery
Stirling Heads at Stirling Castle

I am a huge fan of Sky Arts Portrait Artist of the Year, which can be streamed on Amazon. If you’ve watched it, then you will be aware that the grand prize is to paint a portrait of a figure of national importance for one of several UK Portrait Museums. After viewing it on the show, I was dying to see the Scottish National Portrait Gallery’s Great Hall. It is even more breath-taking in the flesh.

The Great Hall of the Scottish National Portrait Gallery in Edinburgh

Even the ceiling is magnificent!

Currently on view within the Gallery is “The Modern Portrait”. Considering the development of portraiture since the early 20th century, this exhibit shows evolving portraiture styles over the past 125 years. It was also a fascinating opportunity to learn about the paintings’ subjects – figures who have contributed significantly to Scottish life in numerous spheres.

The Unknown Man, detail, 2019, Ken Currie, 6.5’x9 feet, Oil on Canvas. This powerful and massive portrait (hence the detail) is of Dame Sue Black, forensic anthropologist.

Alexander Douglas-Home by Avigdor Arikha

Alexander Frederick Douglas-Home, 1988, Avigdor Arikha, Oil on canvas. What drew me to this one was the composition. As I’ve noted before, I am a fan images that hug the edge.

Tom Leonard, About 2004, Alex Main, Bronze I took this photo so I could paint it in my sketchbook later – I find the sense of form quite moving and a great opportunity for practice.

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The Stirling Heads, made of Polish oak, were a ceiling adornment in James V’s Inner Hall meant to display his status as monarch through reference to his royal bloodline, powerful connections and fashionable court. After having been dispersed in the late 18th century, some of the originals are reunited in a darkened gallery in the castle, while modern reproductions recreate their splendor, once again decorating the ceiling of the King’s Inner Hall.

The workmanship of the originals is spectacular.

Painted reproductions as they would have appeared originally are also a testament to the skills of modern artisans..

OK, time to stretch your legs – that is more than enough for now! Perhaps (I hope) you’ll have seen something that will send you down your own rabbit hole of discovery. I know there is a lot of reading I’m looking forward to.

Next time, Gardens and a touch of “oh my!” Till then.

The Other 50%

Some weeks I feel like a jack of all trades.
While painting, drawing & hand-stitching may be the face of what goes on here, plenty of other, behind-the-scenes activities are just as integral to keeping everything steaming along.

These past weeks I’ve been preparing for an upcoming solo show that will run throughout the month of June. My stitched paintings of elder women — 2-1/2 years of work — will be seen all together in one venue. I hope you’ll join me for the Opening Party on June 7th!

Framing

Meanwhile, lots of unsung chores surrounding the show are keeping me busy. I’ve been cutting mats & framing the remainder of the 19 pieces that will make up the exhibit while getting the associated paperwork and computer records in order. I’ve designed an announcement/invitation and have begun promotional outreach. Leading up to this point, I’ve spent hours writing artist statements, proposals, follow-ups and, as you may remember, assorted blog posts sharing the process of each piece over the past couple of years.

There is a general wisdom that artists only spend about 50% of their time actually making art; the rest is devoted to business, which is just as demanding. How very true.

With this in mind, please note that I am going to take a short break in early May. Look for my next post in 4 weeks, on May 22nd.

Invitation / Announcement

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If you’re looking for a diversion, Austin Kleon’s Substack post this week is filled with all sorts of art-y goodness. It’s been a treat to slowly chip away at his links during my breaks. Each is a source of inspiration in its own way, especially “Art Thief: Lessons from Wayne Thiebaud”. But if you only have time for one thing and are looking for a sense of connection across time, and/or a source of hope, remember gardens and read Kleon’s 2017 post “Planting Iris”.
Planting season has arrived, time to get to it!

The Name Game

An unsung step in the making of every work of art is the choosing of a title. I have a friend who often decides what she’ll call a piece long before the work is complete, but I believe she is the exception. For me — and I gather a lot of people — titling is a frustrating end-of-work challenge. I think a title ought to be more than a mere afterthought once a piece is finished. Beyond just a label, it can also be a bridge – another opportunity to connect with a viewer.

When I photograph works in an exhibit, I almost always follow each shot with a picture of its descriptive label. Aside from wanting to be reminded of the materials and techniques, I’m interested in what else the artist may want to convey to me through the name they chose.

Among the many approaches are:

Purely descriptive

Green House and Table, Jay Stern, 2023, Oil on canvas

Atmospheric

Avenue de l’Opéra: Morning Sunshine, Camille Pissaro, 1898, Oil on Canvas

An identifier of place

Meeting Street, Ivan Summers, ca.1925, Oil on canvas

Or person

Café Fortune Teller, Mary Hoover Aiken, 1933, Oil on canvas

A Marker of Time

Last Sickness, Alice Neil, 1953, Oil on canvas

Or a literary reference

Diana of the Sea, Marguerite Thompson Zurich, 1940, Oil on canvas

And some are completely enigmatic

The Bride Stripped Bare by her Bachelors, Even (The Large Glass), Marcel Duchamp, 1915-23, Oil paint, varnish, lead foil, lead wire, dust, two glass panels. Curiosity got the better of me. For a better understanding behind Duchamp’s title, read this article.

And then there is the total (IMHO) cop-out: “Untitled”.

I bounce around in my approach, but often go the esoteric route.
While I don’t believe that a title creates a “make or break” situation, or that a sense of connection necessarily hinges on a title, I do think it adds another layer of depth to a work — another chance to create a sense of understanding.

The Secrets She Keeps, after Hans Memling ©2020 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk, 24″ x 18″ This piece, which I’m happy to say has found a new home, is of Barbara van Vlaendenbergh. She was the wife of Willem Moreel, a prominent and wealthy landowner in 15th century Bruges. While there is plenty of information to be found about him, sadly all I could find about her was that she had given birth to 18 children. I felt compelled to give credence to the depth of her story which remains untold in history. My title was a nod to that omission: imagine the wisdom she would have been able to relate, if only she could!

But I admit, it’s something of a game. I look at my titles as an opportunity to encode the work with a reference that, while often not immediately obvious, has the potential to reward anyone who takes the time to pay attention.

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If you’re in the central Vermont area, treat yourself to the three exhibits currently on view at Burlington City Arts: Bunny Harvey: World Within Worlds, Stéphanie Morissette: Speculative Future and Susan Smirka: in the Lorraine B. Good room.

Words to Work By

I don’t have a whole lot to write about in this post since I’ve been busy pulling together my 3-times-a-year newsletter, which will go out early next week. I know a lot of you subscribe to both lists, so I’d like to spare you too much overlap. If you’re not a subscriber, you can sign up here.

Meanwhile, the one newsletter I consistently read every week is “3-2-1 Thursday“, written by James Clear (author of Atomic Habits). Each issue is comprised of 3 ideas from Clear himself, 2 quotes from others, and 1 question for readers to mull over. It’s short, sweet and, more often than not, hits a mark of some sort.

In January he threw out the following idea and it’s stayed in the back of my mind ever since:

“Nearly everything awesome takes longer than you think. Get started and don’t worry about the clock.”

Here’s a taste of what I’m working on – both are still in-process.

©2025 Elizabeth Fram, In-process I’ve been learning about knotless netting – or looping – from Lissa Hunter. She sometimes uses this technique on the baskets and vessel forms she makes. I’m exploring what will happen by using irregular tension and am thinking about incorporating it as a layer that references memory – sometimes overwhelming and, in this instance, tangled. I’m still considering how much to add to this piece.

And finally, this one from last week is now finished; title yet to be determined.

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And now for something completely joyful:

I discovered the paintings of Carl Larsson when I was in college – and was smitten with his depictions of domestic interiors and use of line with watercolor. His inclusion of houseplants and details like the turned runner and the knitting in the painting below, enchanted me.

Carl Larsson

So I was thrilled yesterday, to come across the following article* in the NYTimes which includes many photographs of the interior of the summer home where Larsson and his wife Karin lived with their eight children. If you’re familiar with Larsson’s paintings, it’s immediately apparent how faithful his renditions were. But more impressive to me now is seeing how the Larssons bucked design trends of the time, creating a home in which every room was a personal artistic expression of themselves. The colors alone are swoon-worthy.

Try to look past the potted plant to a reproduction of Karin’s weaving “The Four Elements” behind, on display in her workroom.

An added bonus was discovering Karin’s textile work, which is evident in every room. She too was a painter at the time they met, but that discipline took a backseat once she started having children. She turned to textiles as a result – not an unfamiliar story – but her sense of color and design were impeccable. Please read more about her.

*(I’m gifting the article to you, so you shouldn’t have any problem opening the link). Hopefully you can also open this link to a video of Larsson’s great-great-great granddaughter giving a light-hearted tour of the house. If not, the video is part of the article.

Enjoy!

The Dance Between Positive and Negative

Up until the last couple of days, winter has been tenaciously hanging on. We’re all itching to move on but, knowing how mercurial Vermont’s transition to spring can be, the studio is the one place where I can effectively make change happen.
With that in mind, here’s a peek at something new…

I have been thinking quite a bit about the sewn side of my paintings and how I might leverage passages of stitching to explore pattern and texture more extensively.

Orientation is key; rotating an image 90° or 180° shakes off automatic interpretations, allowing me to lean into abstraction. I’m still thinking about how to tackle the stitching on this one.

I’ve been cropping sections of older ink sketches, reinterpreting them by creating new compositions in watercolor that flirt with abstraction. By situating the painted elements so that they hug the edges of the frame, I’m simultaneously leaving wide swaths of space that are open for stitching.

This image is more easily identifiable, but again, rotation helps me to home in on an interaction of shapes vs a specific object.

On the one hand this creates tension between the painted and unpainted areas, while on the other hand it offers me an empty field that is ready-made to push the potential of stitching as it relates to the image as a whole.

©Elizabeth Fram I raced on the stitching so I could include this piece in today’s post, giving you a taste of what I’m working toward. But you never know how things will evolve until you’re already up to your elbows. What I didn’t expect was that leaving a large area completely free of any sort of imagery/stitching would be just right. That, and cropping the image to a square makes this piece feel complete. If one thing’s for certain, it’s that the work is just as much in the driver’s seat as I am.

Considered from another angle, I’m giving myself an opportunity to juggle between positive and negative space. Remember the old optical illusion: is it a vase or 2 profiles? That’s what I’m thinking about while at the same time limiting my palette so I can concentrate more fully on finding a balance between the two.

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Meanwhile, as I wait out our on-again / off-again snowy days I’ve been experiencing a bit of a bonanza in terms of art-related film. There’s nothing quite like art for reminding us that, despite world affairs, creativity ties us together across cultural and geographic lines.

If you aren’t already familiar with The Red Dress project, this short film will bring you up to speed. Kirstie Macleod, originator of the project, travels to Mexico to connect with two of the many embroidery artists who contributed to the finished dress.

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Led Zeppelin drums up plenty of teenage memories for me, but I never fully understood or appreciated their sheer genius until seeing Becoming Led Zeppelin in the theater last week. OMG.

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Finally, I happened upon this last film by pure chance. You can stream it either on Kanopy or Amazon Prime. If you have any interest at all in Japanese Ukiyo-e prints, artistic collaboration, the melding of an ancient art with pop culture, or even the fine craftsmanship of Japanese tools — you will also love The Art of the Game: Ukiyo-e Heroes.

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Come take a look…

Studio Place Arts, a jewel of community and creative connection, just opened its latest group show this week. Silver Lining celebrates 25 years of SPA with a show based on the color Silver. The show runs from March 12th – April 19th.
I have two stitched portraits in the show.

Maine-ly Art

I’ve lived in eight states as an adult which, aside from the physical slog of moving house so many times, has honestly been one of the bigger privileges of my life.
Experiencing both the good, and even the less good, of a variety of communities across the country has been an awesome opportunity to stretch beyond the comfort of my Maine upbringing. All the same, being a Maine native remains a proud part of my core identity, and I’m grateful for any chance to return.

Arriving on the coast is a visceral homecoming that taps all the senses: the shifting colors of the ocean, the familiar smell of salt in the air, hearing the cries of seagulls while bracing against a brisk wind off the water, and always, always enjoying the taste of native treats from land and sea. Have you ever tried a Needham?

We were in Portland last week, experiencing all of the above, and of course lots of art as well. Visits to the Portland Museum of Art and Cove Street Arts were a mid-winter chance to refill my cultural cup to the brim. What follows are a few of the beauties that caught my eye and that I thought you might enjoy as well.

The exhibit “As We Are” at the PMA showcases 14 emerging artists, each with strong Maine ties.

Rachel Gloria Adams, Every Morning, 2024, Acrylic, corduroy, linen, cotton and wool It was delightful to see Adams’ large scale quilts upon entering this exhibit – on purple walls, no less! The vibrant variety of colored walls throughout the museum showed off the work in each gallery beautifully, adding immeasurably to my experience .

Jenny Ibsen, Top Carrot, 2024, Terracotta, underglaze and luster This is one of a series of trophies that “explores ideas of sustenance and care, labor, and play”. As a gardener (who happened to experience a top notch carrot season last year) I love Ibsen’s sense of whimsy.

Jay Stern, Past, Present, Future, 2024, Oil on Canvas I was swept away by Stern’s paintings – both in their execution and by his nod to the quotidian. In his statement, he compared them to portraiture in that they show clear evidence of human presence and experience.

Jay Stern, Past, Present, Future, detail Purely from a rendering standpoint, I found myself happily getting lost in Stern’s patchwork of color and paint.

Tessa Greene O’Brien, Posted, Cape Elizabeth, 2024, Oil, bleach, wax resist on dyed canvas I have seen plenty of O’Brien’s work on Instagram, but rarely in person. This time I had the “aha” moment of realizing her work’s close relation to batik. Her use/reference to textile techniques creates a wonderful fusion that straddles genres.

James Parker Foley, Divers Approaching Infinite Density, 2023, Oil on linen The striking color and bold imagery of this piece commands the gallery in which it is hung.

And from elsewhere in the PMA:

Newell Convers Wyeth, Georges Islands, Penobscot Bay, Maine, 1928-29, Oil on canvas Myriad artists have captured Maine in as many ways. While this was painted on Penobscot Bay, and I grew up on Casco Bay, this work portrays the essence of what I think of as “Maine”.

Gabriel Frey, Nohonul Posonutiyil Kcicihtomuwakon (Three Baskets of Wisdom) 2023, Black Ash There is visual poetry between this beautiful piece and its setting: white oak and granite flooring against the charcoal gray wall. So lovely.

Reggie Burrows Hodges, Bathers and the Cleansed, Pearl, 2021, Acrylic and pastel on canvas After first becoming acquainted with Hodges work at the Center for Maine Contemporary Art in 2022, I was happy to meet up with him again via this stunning piece.

Chantal Joffe, Jessica, 2012, Oil on linen. While there were several John Singer Sargents to enjoy on a lower floor, it was this monumental portrait (almost 8 x 6 feet) that spoke most strongly to me.

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Cove Street Arts, on the opposite side of Portland’s peninsula, is a beautiful warehouse-esque building that incorporates 4 separate gallery spaces within a greater whole, accommodating art of every scale and genre.

One view within Cove Street Arts

Michael Stasiuk, Lady With Pearls and a Red Purse Walking Her Dog, 2024, Baking pan, lemon reamer, bowling pins, old ironing board, assorted fragments. Humor and inventiveness best describe Stasiuk’s work that is oh-so-relatable and human.

Jeffrey Stevensen, Slip Between Custom House Wharf and Portland Pier, August 1982, Archival inkjet print on cotton paper. Such a beautiful moment of calm on the working waterfront.

Kathi Smith, Gull Rock, Monhegan (top), Gull Rock II, Monhegan (bottom), Oil on panel. While Stevensen’s photograph above uses black and white to best advantage, the colors of these two paintings make them sing.

Fred Lynch, Stepping Out, Watercolor on paper. I find work that skews to the abstract, while maintaining its figurative underpinnings, intriguing on numerous levels. The colors of this piece are unexpected and joyfully satisfying.

Kelly McConnell, In Out, 2022, Oil on canvas I keep coming back to this painting and wondering what it is about it that keeps grabbing my attention. The layers? the colors? the sense of space? Perhaps it’s that I somehow find it calming despite its chaos.

To have been able to see such a diverse selection of work while visiting only two venues is rather remarkable.
When I was growing up, my mother used to say in regard to Portland’s Maine Medical Center that we were beyond fortunate to have access to such great care and expertise in a relatively small and removed city. Portland has grown by leaps and bounds since then and is no longer so removed. And yet, while Maine has always attracted artists, I think Mom’s characterization could now be applied to the city’s art scene as well – it’s definitely hitting above its weight.

Steeped in Color

We’re having such a lovely, wintery winter this year.

Getting an inch or two of snow most days over the past weeks has resulted in a healthy accumulation, smoothing the rough edges of our landscape and keeping things visually subdued, restful even.

Our home is nestled between the Worcester and Green mountain ranges. Once the sun rises high enough to clear the Worcester range behind us, it shines on the Greens to our west, making for a bright start to the day.

That means there are days when the sunrise or the sunset offer our only fleeting glimpse of color in a 24 hour period, made all the more vibrant by our muted surroundings.

The sky can be just as spectacular in the early evening

Never fear, there is always plenty of color in the studio. Lately I’ve been looking at specific palette combinations, aiming to grasp why it is they appeal to me at a gut level. I figure this is the best approach for leveraging what I then learn in order to create new palettes of my own.

Zorah on the Terrace, Henri Matisse, 1912. Years ago I began clipping an assortment of visual references, often color-centric, (deposits, if you will) to fill a visual bank of spiral sketchbooks that I return to time and again for inspiration.

Right now, M. Matisse leads the way.
One might think just looking is enough, but I’m learning so much more by isolating and then trying to recreate the colors of favorite paintings and from collected resource photos, using the paints and drawing tools I have on hand.

A hasty copy of Matisse’s Zorah on the Terrace using colored pencils and Neocolor II’s helps me to understand some of the nuances of his color choices.

Making color swatches solidifies my grasp of how this particular palette can be translated with my own mixes.

Playing around with mixtures or layering colors over each other to arrive at just the right hue helps me to more intimately know the colors I already own, while – bonus! – being a restful and meditative exercise unto itself.

It’s been very helpful to keep a devoted sketchbook for saving palette mixes as I go along. Not only can I reference what I learn from master painters, but it’s an easy way to retain the various mixes I discover from my own work, including color notations about specific locales (as shown in this post). This has been a game changer for narrowing down what colors to pack before a trip.

Spirit of SPA ©2025, Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and stitching on paper, 7-1/8″ x 7″. The palette of this latest piece was meant to reflect a mid-August afternoon, which was when I took the reference photo and had a delightful visit with my model. It’s all interwoven, isn’t it? Light affects color affects time affects light.

Working on this portrait last week, I was conscious of separating the colors so they could be seen as individual strokes and marks which come together in a palette that speaks to the specifics of the time I spent with my sitter. I still have plenty to learn in order to push this idea – but at least this offers a glimpse of what I’m aiming for.

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Find of the week:
Patty Hudak’s Mokuhanga prints…stunning!

Patterns of Practice

Do you also find yourself curious about how other people approach their work – the distinctive quirks of process that they have developed for themselves?

Before the holidays, a friend gave me the huge (in both size and content) book The Work of Art: How Something Comes from Nothing by Adam Moss. At a richly illustrated 400+ pages, it’s the sort of volume one dips in and out of rather than reading all in one go. It’s perfect for easing into when you have a spare 15 or 20 minutes.

The Work of Art

Moss features more than 40 of today’s most accomplished creators — painters, writers, cartoonists, filmmakers, musicians, composers, fashion designers, chefs, etc. They share generously as he digs deeply into their various practices, sifting through their thought processes, their doubts, their constraints and, ultimately, their breakthroughs. In other words, all the things we can relate to as part of a creative practice regardless of how proficient or well-known one may be.

Artists are a diverse crowd, but a tribe all the same. Personally, I find that sense of connection tremendously uplifting as I toil away in my remote corner. With all this in mind, I was intrigued lately to, somewhat coincidentally, happen upon a Substack post entitled “Know Your Creative Cycle”, written by Mason Currey, the author of Daily Rituals: How Artists Work.

Strands of Wisdom (I’ve Seen A Lot, Not All Of It Good) ©2025 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and embroidery on paper, 8.5 x 8.5 inches This latest piece came together pretty quickly, which is the exception rather than the rule for me. My creative cycle usually involves a series of starts and stops. I get an idea and head out of the gates with a bang, but then something invariably crops up mid-stream to stop me in my tracks. Then I have to step away to figure out how to get around that stumbling block. Mostly, in-process decisions are a leap of faith which, thankfully, more times than not end up working out. That said, on-the-fly decisions directed this piece away from what I had originally planned. But the good news is, that just leaves me room to go back to my original idea in the future.

If you have a moment, try his exercise to identify how your individual practice ticks. I thought it was something of another tribal moment to discover that while the particular ups and downs of getting the work out of our heads and into the world may be somewhat different for everyone, we all have a pattern, and being aware of that pattern is power.

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For those of you who aren’t on my separate art mailing list…

Please join me and other exhibitors
this Saturday, February 1st from 4-5:30pm at Studio Place Arts
for an Artist Social celebrating

Where’s My Hat?
January 22 – March 1, 2025

Studio Place Arts
201 N. Main Street
Barre, VT 05641
802.479.7069 | info@studioplacearts.com

Scroll down on this link to preview the show

Comfort in Discomfort

I don’t know about you, but I feel a lot more at ease delving into new projects once my slate has been cleaned of older ones. December and January are usually so consumed with juggling year-end evaluations and formulating plans for the months ahead, never mind all the holiday hoo-ha, that it takes a lot effort to keep my eye on the ball and to finish up whatever was already in the works.

If Only ©2024 Elizabeth Fram and It Was a Dream ©2025, side by side. Reeling from November’s election, these two pieces were my way to address the concept of dreams that ultimately don’t pan out, and the hope that bolsters us in the face of such setbacks. Light vs dark, day vs night — reality is a full circle that necessarily encompasses both. BTW, I’m currently reading Judi Dench’s Shakespeare The Man Who Pays the Rent. So with my head in that space, I had to look to see what the Bard had to say on this subject. He never fails us: “The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together” (All’s Well That Ends Well).

In early November I began a couple of “companion” pieces. I shared the first, If Only, in my post Something to Lean On. Today I’m showing its counterpart, It Was A Dream. The two were conceived together but are meant to work either in tandem or independently – viewer’s choice.

Now that they’re both finished, I can turn my attention to whatever may be next. I’ve decided I want to carve out time in 2025 to push some of my trusty processes and techniques in ways that will hopefully open the door to different outcomes. But that said, it’s a lot easier to come up with nebulous goals than it is to succinctly outline the specific steps to getting there, so I have some serious experimenting in front of me.

And while there’s no way to know at this point what the results might look like, I guess that’s exactly the point. If I knew where I was going I doubt there would be much growth, and I feel like I’m ready for a stretch. Meanwhile, I’m keeping in mind what my favorite fitness coach says: “find comfort in discomfort”.