Category Archives: Artists

Paying Tribute

I was saddened to read last week that Jerry Uelsmann has died.
During college, we probably spent at least 95% of our time learning about art and artists of the past, but Uelsmann was a living artist who broke through that wall of antiquity.

Jerry Uelsmann, detail ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and gouache on paper, 12 x 9 inches. Working on these portraits is such good practice – but so humbling. I’m learning how important it is not to rush through the drawing phase. If I lay out the drawing and then leave it to come back to later, time and space make it easier to see where adjustments are needed.

Looking back, his work definitely had a formative impact on me. While I was intrigued by the ideology of the Dada movement and iconic surrealists like Dali, I found it hard to connect with much of their work. Jerry Uelsmann was a contemporary exception; his imagery spoke to me and stayed with me. His “artful juxtapositions”, as his NY Times obituary termed them, were both approachable and curious. Looking back, I think it was Uelsmann’s photo montages that first nudged me toward grasping the importance of looking for and creating unexpected connections.

I’ve always loved this image. This old dorm room poster is tacked to my office wall, where I still enjoy it every day.

The mystical quality of his photos pulled me in, appealing to my college-age self by feeding the desire to find meaning that comes with growing into adulthood. Yet even all these years later, his images still touch on something fundamental.

Electric Milk © Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor on paper, 30 x 22 inches. This ancient painting (c. 1979) was inspired by the surrealistic objective to defy reason and Uelsmann’s example of combining disparate objects.

Intellectually, the intent behind his imagery still remains just out of reach, but one can understand enough of his visual language to feel encouraged that translation is possible — perhaps through the vocabulary of dreams. The various elements within each finished image have enough relatability to give the resulting montages an essence of personal relevance despite their mystery. Ultimately, he poses riddles that connect to something within our deeper selves.

I still refer to this wonderful monograph for inspiration and escape.

Uelsmann was a pioneer, conjuring in the 1960s what he appropriately termed “the alchemy of the darkroom”. Photoshop may have made that form of magic accessible on a more universal scale, but I’ve yet to find work that contains the same haunting aura of myth which makes Uelsmann’s work so memorable.

Look Into the (Working) Mind of an Artist

First things first:
This week marks the opening of Transitions at Axel’s Gallery in Waterbury, VT. This show explores change – through both material and concept, as seen through the eyes and hands of members of the Vermont chapter of the Surface Design Association. It runs through the end of the month.

Ulysses’ Wave ©2014 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye, paint and embroidery on silk, 19″H x 38″W x 2.25″D. My piece in the show is a meditation on how so often life mimics nature. How we see change coming from a distance, feel we are prepared, but are somehow shocked when it arrives. Strips of raw silk, hand-dyed to gradually transition from bright green to a subdued neutral, abruptly end in blue. Over-dyed patterns, created via stitched-resist and further enhanced with embroidery and paint, reinforce a sense of continuity. They roil and swell, not unlike a massive wave that, despite seeing it coming, still takes your breath away as it crashes into you. Read more about the creation and concept behind this piece, in real time.

I’ll be at the Artist Reception Saturday, April 9th, 4-6pm. Please join us!

Transitions Post Card

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Now for our regularly scheduled programming…
I owe a debt of gratitude to the friend who mentioned last month that she was reading Walter Isaacson’s biography of Leonardo da Vinci. When the book first came out in 2017, I made a mental note to add it to my TBR list in anticipation of the time when demand at the library would calm down. But of course I forgot. Thanks to her recent reminder, I finally followed through.

It was a fascinating read.
While no one would ever question Leonardo’s genius, Isaacson uncovers just how far-reaching and fascinating his mind truly was as he balanced art with science. One reviewer of the book alluded to how fans of traditional biographies might take issue with the heavy emphasis on art history, Renaissance Italy and Isaacson’s focus on painting and other artistic techniques over a dissection of Leonardo’s personal life. But that criticism never occurred to me; I think the author had the proportion of one to the other exactly right.

It’s true, this book concentrates more on Leonardo’s creativity and his work than on the finer details of his personality. But even so, Isaacson includes more than enough information about Leonardo as an individual to give one a healthy sense of him as a person, what was important to him and how his personality affected his outlook and, in turn, his work.

A page from Leonardo’s notebooks, with illustrations and notations about the embryology of the human fetus.

In the final chapter, the reader is offered a compilation list of 20 “lessons” encapsulating Leonardo’s unparalleled creativity, with the suggestion that they are skills we too can access. I’m paraphrasing several below which struck me as particularly worth passing on.

Be relentlessly curious
Go down rabbit holes – drill down for the pure joy of geeking-out.
Procrastinate (gather facts and let them simmer) – creativity requires time for ideas to marinate and for intuitions to gel
Collaborate. Innovation is a team sport; creativity is a collaborative endeavor
Take notes on paper. Leonardo’s notebooks are still around to astonish us

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It is a huge bonus that Isaacson’s biography contains plenty of accompanying illustrations of Leonardo’s drawings, paintings and pages from his notebooks — all of which provide a fuller glimpse into the way he kept track of and teased out ideas. With that in mind, if you’re able, please make a trip to the Highland Center for the Arts in Greensboro to catch their current exhibition: Frank Woods Minor Works.

Three self-portraits ©Frank Woods

The appellation of “minor” is somewhat misleading; there is nothing minor about Frank’s work. I was thrilled and inspired to see an exhibit of working drawings and sketches that, while perhaps initially created as a platform upon which larger work would be built, have much to say in their own right. It’s always a privilege to get a feeling for an artist’s process and to have a bit of access into how s/he works through ideas. Having such a window into an artist’s mind – especially one whose work I respect as much as Frank’s – or Leonardo’s for that matter – is a gift indeed.

This image of developmental sketches, next to the final piece that evolved from them, shows my personal approach to working drawings. I, too, maintain a notebook/sketchbook to keep track of fleeting ideas as they occur to me and to record notes from all sorts of sources: meetings, reading, workshops, etc. It’s helpful to have everything in one place and I definitely prefer analog to digital. FYI: I’m a big fan of Dingbats Eco-Friendly Notebooks ; there are a variety of options available. Snow Moon, ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk with foraged branches, 18.5″H x 9″W x 7.5″D, Private Collection. Photo: Paul Rogers Photography

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Last, but not least – apologies for the repeat blog delivery a week ago. I definitely don’t want to gum up your inbox. Without straying too far into TMI territory, let’s just say MailChimp automatic delivery has been something of a challenge lately.

As I write this, my fingers are crossed that the issue is now fixed. But I won’t know for sure until after this post’s scheduled delivery time (Friday @ 4:00am ET). Meanwhile, your patience is and has been greatly appreciated.

Unexpected Gifts

I’ve been thinking lately about how, despite the ups and downs that come with wending one’s way through a global pandemic, there have still been some truly unexpected bright spots over the past two years.

Considering all that is happening around the world these days, it would be foolish to take anything for granted. And perhaps the enormity of the world’s current problems explains why it’s the little moments in life that offer the greatest reprieve and joy right now.

WH Auden ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and pencil on paper, 12 x 9 inches I made this portrait after reading Elisa Gabbert’s fabulous interactive feature “A Poem (and a Painting) About the Suffering that Hides in Plain Sight”, which appeared in the NY Times on March 6th. Her piece centers on Auden’s poem “Musée des Beaux Arts”. I found it very moving — another unexpected gift.

Two particular highlights that have come my way in the past 12 months were a total surprise. In both instances, I thought I was making a relatively small contribution to lighten someone else’s load, but truthfully, I’m the one who walked away with gifts far greater than earned or than I would have thought possible.

Thank you to my local art supplier, The Drawing Board, for coming up with the brilliant idea of a monthly watercolor subscription last year. When I signed up I wasn’t sure I needed a new half-pan of paint each month – but it seemed like an easy and fun way to support a local enterprise at a time when no one knew what was lurking around the corner for any business.

The thing is, I got way more out of that subscription than I ever would have dreamed. Soon I couldn’t wait to see the regular envelope which included not only the promised paint, but also other supply surprises (paper samples, brushes, a sponge, drawing tools, etc.). As Covid dragged on, each arrival became something of an event that was just as exciting and as eagerly anticipated as when the Scholastic book order arrived in elementary school. Remember those days?

On top of that, I’m super glad to have added Daniel Smith’s Genuine Serpentine, Rose of Ultramarine, Amethyst Genuine and Mayan Dark Blue to my palette. I’m not sure I would have tried them otherwise, but they are remarkably versatile and now an integral part of my kit.

Palette

The other highlight I wanted to share with you comes in the form of a daily email from artist Janet Van Fleet, who is participating in the March Arts Marathon to benefit the Central Vermont Refugee Action Network. Every day this month she sends donors a brief recap with images of her art career as she ‘looks over her shoulder’ at her creative journey. It’s a tremendous commitment and amount of work on her part, but for those of us who follow, it has been a delight that marks how thoroughly engaged Janet is with the world, its joys and its woes. The whole exercise has made me realize how often artists’ creative paths are overlooked, and how important they are to understanding the development of someone’s work.

To a great degree, I think the practice of art is a form of translation. One of the qualities I most value about it and the people who create it, is the ability to conjure unexpected and enlightening connections — associations that strike both a universal and a personal chord with viewers. Visual analogies are a strong means for making ideas and emotions relatable and palpable.

The Beginning © Janet Van Fleet, Oil on board with wine foils. Included in her 2019 exhibit “Vanishment” in the Vermont Supreme Court lobby, this and the painting below call attention to the devastating reality that we humans are killing off other species at alarming rates.

Please visit Janet’s website to see the breadth of her work. Look closely and you will see she is a master of metaphor. She tackles weighty subject matter without ever losing sight of the sheer joy of life. That’s a pretty impressive juggling act.

The End © Janet Van Fleet, Oil on board with wine foils

Her short film, March of the Teapots, will give you a sense of her marvelous imagination. And I trust it might be an unexpected gift for you today.

The past two years have been a long haul, but think about it — who or what has made small moments monumental for you? Whatever the answer, I’ll bet you didn’t see it coming.

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I recently discovered the sprightly work of M. Louise Stanley. If you curious about someone who combines her sketchbooks with old master works, laced with a healthy sense of humor, be sure to visit her website. You can also find her on Instagram @m.louisestanley.

The Secret Treasures of Pattern

I have been thinking a lot about the entity of pattern these past two weeks.
Mostly, that is because of this new piece I’m working on and my ongoing exploration of combining embroidery with an assortment of resist dye techniques, but it’s also due to a talk I listened to during the recent Surface Design Association online conference.

I left you last time having just completed the white-on-white embroidery of this piece. Look back to that post to refresh your memory as to where things stood at that point. It took me some time to decide how to dye this piece in the next step. Unfortunately, too many layers of material prevented the dye from seeping throughout as much as I had hoped, so the only answer was to take a second pass with a new layer of dye, creating an additional pattern. The blue grid you see here was drawn as a water-soluble guideline for the stitches that would be the basis for that design.

The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines ‘pattern’ as something that is regular and repeated within the context of design, behavior, or the way in which something happens. It also pairs the idea of pattern/design with the word decorative, a much-too superficial viewpoint, if you ask me.

Once the stitches were in place and tightly drawn up, the whole piece was dipped in dye. You have to appreciate unexpected amusements along the way …doesn’t this look like a brain?

During the SDA panel discussion mentioned above, the artist Chandra D. Cox opened the door to thinking about pattern in different and more consequential terms: as a means for expressing identity.

Chandra D. Cox, Ashanti, 2003. Acrylic on wood, 72 x 18 x 5 inches. Photo: Michael Zirkle. Reference: Surfacedesign.org I find the pieces in this series incredibly moving. In her statement, Cox writes: “The concept behind these painted structures is meant to symbolize the end of one culture and the beginning of another…The forms are three dimensional, minimalist and ubiquitous. The silhouette recalls a “shotgun house,” a style of southern vernacular architecture with cultural roots tracing from Africa to the Caribbean and American soil…The portals placed on their sides suggest ships and allude to ‘the middle passage of human cargo’. The center is open representing a doorway. A narrow aperture recalls the arrow loops of a castle, through which, emaciated from starvation, newly enslaved Africans were forced into the belly of awaiting ships. This entryway becomes the site and repository of a history and memory, the threshold to a new beginning.” Excerpted from First Person: “I Remember Where I Come From”, by Chandra D. Cox, Surface Design Journal Winter 2021, pg 44 & 45.

In her series “The Doors of No Return – I Remember Where I Come From” Cox employs a variety of traditional African patterns to reference and pay homage to her ancestors. She writes: “The pattern designs (I use) serve as both aesthetic adornment and an emblem for African textiles as conveyers of identities and secret messages”. She goes on to note that “This ancient cultural practice of messaging through pattern (has) withstood centuries of enslavement by adapting and transmuting the encoding”. (Think of the quilts that were used to covertly point the way on the Underground Railroad). She further acknowledges adaptations of pattern as present-day signifiers of identity and territory in urban culture.

I’m much happier now that there is pattern covering the whole piece.

Considering that pattern is ubiquitous, I am fascinated by the deeper perspective of it existing beyond embellishment. I’d love to learn more about it as a marker of identity. If you are aware of any books, articles or links on the subject, please let me know. Examples that most readily come to mind include Scottish tartans and the knitted patterns worn by the fisherman of the Aran Islands, but there must be innumerable other instances.

Bringing the image to life. These very first steps are a chance to begin to play with color in tandem with the patterns of the background dye and the original embroidery.

Meanwhile, the Shibori patterns I use in my work are all adaptations and appropriations of the discoveries and artistry of Japanese masters. In that light, I’m interested to learn more about the patterns of my English ancestry, perhaps discovering a well to draw from in the future. What is there to uncover about the identities Anglo-Saxon designs portray beyond, say, the wealth (or lack thereof) expressed through the materials used to create them? Such an interesting subject.

Highs and Lows

If there is one word I feel best represents the month of January, it is “possibility”.
There’s much to be said for the mental high that comes with metaphorically flipping to a fresh page during the first weeks of each new year, don’t you agree?

In order to set that stage I’ve learned that, even though my to-do list in December is always overflowing, making time during the last month of the year to both reassess the past 12 months and to formulate a game plan for the next 12, pays off in spades come January. The resulting sense of a clear head is a treasured gift to myself.

Admittedly, it’s a bit of a regimented chore but, as one of my artistic heroes, painter Wayne Thiebaud, is quoted as saying: “Discipline is not a restriction but an aid to freedom”. I’ve come to realize that wisdom applies to all aspects of an art practice.

Hanger Diptych ©1986 Elizabeth Fram, Pastel on paper, 28 x 16.5 x 28 inches The images in this post reach pretty far back, which is obvious from the sketchy photos. In 1985-86 I began working with pastels, loving them as a source of saturated color. Having just moved out west, I soon discovered the work of Wayne Thiebaud and it became a huge inspiration, as is clearly evidenced in these ancient pieces.

Having put in the necessary work before the holidays, I can now move forward with a ready-made framework to lean upon that takes the guesswork out of where I’m headed in 2022. My mind is now freer and more receptive to the conceptual connections that are the meat of any creative practice…hence the feeling of possibility.

On a low note though, I was saddened to learn that Thiebaud died on December 25th at 101. It was his vibrant use of color that first grabbed me almost four decades ago, but my love affair with his work has remained constant ever since. As I’ve evolved as an artist, so have the lessons I’ve picked up from his work. Most recently I have been appreciating him for being, as his NYTimes obituary so aptly noted, “a virtuoso of the everyday and its deep, subtle symbolism”, — a subject that cuts close to my own artistic objectives.

I am envious of the students at UC Davis who had the opportunity to learn directly from him. Everything I’ve read and heard portrays him as a very generous teacher as well as a truly nice guy. It seems he worked through the highs and lows of his long career by always remaining true to himself and to his love of his work.
RIP Mr. Thiebaud, and thank you for your gifts which will continue to benefit us all.

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Two last notes before you go:

I’m so pleased to announce I now have a web shop up and running on my website. Please stop by and browse!
For now, the shop includes only the stitched-watercolor House & Garden series from this last summer, but I will be adding more pieces to it as the year progresses and time allows. That said, pretty much all my work is for sale if it hasn’t already sold, so please don’t hesitate to inquire if you’re interested in a piece you don’t see in the shop. Thank you!

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And finally, check out Glen Martin Taylor’s brilliant work. I know I’ll never look at a teacup or placesetting in quite the same way. @glenmartintaylor on Instagram.

Welcome Fall!

My kids might not be that amused, but back in the day I used to get a kick out of Staples’ “The most wonderful time of the year” commercial. Aside from the obvious, it struck a chord because, no matter how old I get, I doubt I’ll ever outgrow the feeling that September is a time of fresh beginnings, carrying with it the possibility and excitement of learning.

Marty ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Ink and watercolor on paper, 11 x 8 inches What used to be the Sktchy app is now called “Museum by Sktchy“. It’s billed as “an unlimited supply of portrait subjects right in your pocket” and is a great resource for practice.

This year is no different. The availability of so many online learning platforms makes it incredibly easy and convenient to explore all sorts of art disciplines. I took advantage of Labor Day bundle pricing and bought several courses that will feed both my stitching and drawing needs throughout the fall.

A number of the instructors I’ve “studied” with in the past are artists whose work I had followed through Urban Sketchers and Instagram, so I was familiar with the quality of their ideas and process. And while I’m a huge fan of books, a video format has different advantages. True, it’s not the same as being part of an in-person group, but you still have the ability to ask questions, get feedback, follow your own timeline and, in most cases, have access to your classes “forever”.

Below are the 3 platforms I’ve had experience with and the type of classes I’ve taken with them. There is much more to choose from than what I’ve listed here, so do some research to see what you might find that appeals to your needs.

Domestika – Drawing, Painting, & Embroidery
This is my current favorite — for the quality of the content, presentation and instructors. Founded in Spain, Domestika is now headquartered in San Francisco. I find the fact that most of the instructors are internationally based to be an advantage since they bring something slightly different to the table by virtue of their home culture. With that in mind, you should be aware that many of the classes are not presented in English and as a result rely on subtitles.
Sktchy Art School (no, that’s not a typo) – Drawing, Making natural inks, & Anatomy
The anatomy course was especially good and this is a case where the video format really shines. There are tons of books available on the subject, but I found it particularly helpful to follow along as the instructor used Procreate to uncover and describe layers of bone, muscle and skin, highlighting their affect upon each other. She explained, both verbally and through drawing, how all those elements work together, while providing guideposts to keep in mind for my own drawing.
Sktchy classes also include international instructors who, to my knowledge, all speak in English.
Craftsy – Sketching & Perspective
I think this may have been one of the first online art class apps available and I was very pleased with the courses I chose. But beware: this platform has changed to a subscription format and for that reason I’m no longer interested in their offerings — but that’s just me. I do still have access to the classes I bought before the change.

A quick search online came up with many more options (check the links listed below). I’m sure you can find pretty much whatever you might want if you dig around.

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If you missed this post about “Numina” on Colossal and could use a dose of pure “fantastic”, check out this brief video about Meow Wolf’s latest – more than 70 installations by 300 artist across four floors. Kind of makes one’s heart beat faster with a sense of happiness and hope.

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On a completely different note….
Soon after moving to Vermont I met Dianne Shullenberger, who is easily the most generous artist I have ever known. Our friendship has been an ongoing source of joy and mutual support ever since. Over the years I have watched as she has pushed forward with her own work while never failing to reach out to bolster me and many others on our own creative journeys. When Dianne asked if I would be willing to help her spread the word about an upcoming event she’s planning in anticipation of flipping the page to a new chapter in her life, I gladly said yes.

Spring Rush ©Dianne Shullenberger, 13 x 20 inches, 23 x 30 framed

Please visit Dianne’s website to take in the beauty of her fabric collages and colored pencil drawings, all of which are grounded in her love of nature and the atmospheric details of specific places. She will be having a Moving Sale during Vermont Open Studio Weekend on October 2 & 3, from 10-5. She is offering a 20% discount on all work over $500. Please feel free to contact her before Open Studio to set up an appointment to visit her gallery or to discuss any work that has caught your eye. You can reach her via email: vtdianne@hotmail.com or phone: 802-899-4993

Down The Rabbit Hole

In looking for new subjects to draw, I’ve been seeking out photos of my artistic heroes. With very little effort, one can find some pretty remarkable images online.

Admittedly, searching in this way can become a bit of a rabbit hole if you aren’t careful. It’s easy to get caught up in unanticipated articles and links. Yet perusing these old photos also offers a tiny peek into the person behind the giant — a touchstone more intimate than critical essays and curatorial art-speak can offer.

As far as practicing my drawing is concerned, the fact that the majority of these resources are black and white plays to my advantage. Their lack of color gives me the opportunity to stretch by adding and working with various hues as I see fit, pushing the limits of what I know so far.

I’m coming to recognize that, even when using a photographic reference, drawing facial features is an exercise in empathy. Unlike a still life, there is a human being behind the shapes and forms one is diligently trying to capture. Alice Neel stated that she was painting her subjects’ souls in addition to their bodies. While I’m still working on more rudimentary levels of portrayal, I do find myself thinking about the person I am drawing, wondering how a conversation might unfold and what I might learn if I were lucky enough to have any of these heroes actually sitting in front of me.

YouTube, it turns out, can be a pretty decent substitute by providing the opportunity to hear artists (at least those from the 20th & 21st centuries) speak for themselves. I thoroughly enjoyed this 1978 video of Neel. She reminds me of my grandmother in many ways — partly because they were born around the same time and Neel’s look with the hat and chunky necklace is very reminiscent of the elder ladies in my family as I was growing up. But beyond that, also like my grandmother, Neel’s confidence and down to earth tell-it-like-it-was attitude captured in this interview is endearingly human.

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I have great admiration for reportage illustrators and have written about them before. For court illustrator Jane Rosenberg, the Derek Chauvin trial in times of COVID presented a far steeper set of challenges than I am experiencing in just trying to keep up a regular practice. It was interesting to see the results of her labors and to read about her experience in this New York Times article. The New York Post published a much deeper article about her career last September, as she remembered “40 years of legendary bad guys”.

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Instagram of the Week

Lara Blanchard is a multi-disciplinary French artist who makes embroidered etchings and textile-based sculptures. That description doesn’t begin to do her work justice. It is both fantastic and fantastical; be sure to check out her Instagram feed @laraorsolupa.

Four Ways To Add Color To Stick Season

I think it’s safe to say that the last gasp of summer is now behind us. That fact, paired with the latest COVID restrictions on social interactions here in Vermont, point to more time for reading and digging into creative outlets, online and otherwise.

November Trees

It’s a time when we can all use a bit more color in our day-to-day, so I thought I’d share a few of the things that have brightened my outlook:

I’ve been enjoying the American Craft Council’s weekly post “The Queue”. It’s a series of interviews with 2020 ACC Awards honorees, often including a short video of the artist. The ACC is a wonderful resource; I encourage you to spend some time exploring the Stories section of their website. The satirical sculptures of recently featured Bob Trotman caught my eye several years ago, so I was happy to become reacquainted with his work on a deeper level via “The Queue”. With a background in philosophy, not art, Trotman was originally most interested in studying the idea of the individual. But as he developed an art career, his concerns turned toward examining the machinations of society. As a result, his artistic commentary is largely aimed toward money and power in America.
Considering the unprecedented behavior we have been witnessing from our out-going president and his enablers, Trotman’s powerful voice is more resonate than ever.
Another resource that delicately walks the line between delightful and educational is Vermont painter Susan Abbott’s Painting Notes Blog. Always enriching without being didactic, Susan shares her extensive knowledge of art history from both a visual and personal angle. She shines a contemporary light upon the artists and works that have gone before us, and who have laid a path for us to follow. If you’re interested in book suggestions from Susan, look for her generous response to my question at the very end of the comments section of this post.
Beginning with the lock-down last spring, several major textile organizations joined forces to offer weekly “Textile Talks” — video presentations and panel discussions that surround a huge variety of subjects related to textile art.
All can be accessed via YouTube.
The recent “creative discussion” between color icon Kaffe Fassett and his niece Erin Lee Gafill covers their personal history as well as the habit they’ve developed of painting side-by-side. They’ve recently released a book of these parallel works called Color Duets. Anyone who knows and admires Fassett’s work and his long, illustrious career will enjoy the conversation. Particularly inspiring is the way Fassett straddles different media while maintaining the consistent thread (sorry for the pun) of color.
And finally, if you too are a student of color, you know it’s hard to beat a garden – flower or vegetable – for the lessons it can teach. Our beds may be all buttoned up for the winter, but even as the snow flies we can dream about next year’s glory…while learning a thing or two along the way. Two resources that will be scratching the color itch for me this winter are Darroch and Michael Putnam’s Flower Color Guide and the Floret Flowers website. There are plenty of lessons to be gleaned from each, but perhaps more importantly during these crazy, stressful days, they both offer pure, visual delight.

Flower Color Guide

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With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I can’t let the occasion pass without saying how grateful I am that you choose to join me here every other week, sharing your ideas and comments along the way. Please accept the suggestions above as a token of my gratitude. Be well and wear your mask. We’re all in this together.

Linda ©2020 Elizabeth Fram, Ink, graphite, and colored pencil on paper, 11 x 8.8 inches. It’s always fun to see what each person chooses to include in the selfie they send me, because it’s a further window into who they are. Linda made the paper batik behind her and I think it’s an apt reflection of her bright spirit. All 13 pieces in my COVID-19 Selfie series can be seen together on my website.

Small Things Adding Up To Big Things

There isn’t much in my process that quite matches the excitement of undoing the resist stitching or wrapping that was painstakingly put in place before a dye bath. Wonderful surprises are always revealed.

Dye1

Sure, there are things one can do to nudge the process along; with time one learns about the various ways colors will mix and how multiple layers will absorb (or not absorb) the dye. But there are also rich rewards in the tiny unexpected passages that appear through pure kismet.

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As with any venture, outcomes always vary in success. But without fail, there is at least one area of wonder to be found in each piece, even if only a couple of square inches within a whole yard of fabric.

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Working on my little houses, especially the ones without embroidery, has given me an opportunity to appreciate and highlight some of the more beautiful passages of pattern and color that might get overlooked in a bigger field. Spotlighting those sections within the small parameters of a wall or a roof is somewhat akin to opening the curtains in a dark room, allowing light and color from outside to burst through the window frame into the space, emphasizing individual elements that might not be noticed if you were sitting outdoors with the full scope of your vision in front of you.

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Along this vein of paying attention to small areas for their particular visual interest (sorry for the semi-awkward segue here), in addition to the fact of bigger matters surrounding the post office, I am worried about what I think of as one of the best (and smallest) elements the USPS has to offer: the postage stamp. Aside from being a way to dress up the mail by adding a little art to the pedestrian, stamps are one of the most public and cost effective ways that we honor our artists in this country.

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My father taught me to appreciate stamps years ago, so I am always on the lookout for something beyond the generic American flag to elevate my personal snail-mail. Most recipients probably never notice, but my choice is the final bit of care that finishes any hand-written note.

Asawa Stamps

What a pleasure it was to walk into my local PO branch last week and to buy a 20-stamp sheet of 10 different miniature images of the lyrical work of Ruth Asawa.

Since our son moved to the Bay Area in 2015, I’ve crossed paths with numerous Asawa works. Perhaps the most memorable being a permanent installation of 15 of her pieces in the Education Tower of The de Young Museum in Golden Gate Park.

Asawa installation in the Nancy B. and Jake L. Hamon Education Tower of The de Young Museum, San Francisco Photo credit: ruthasawa.com

There has been a lot written about Asawa concurrent with the issuing of these stamps. This recent article by Thessaly La Force in the NY Times is quite comprehensive. Asawa is yet another female artist who created consistently throughout her long life, forging ahead despite little recognition, and in tandem with the consuming business of raising a family of six children, becoming an educator, and being an activist. Imprisoned as a teenager in Japanese internment camps, she endured prejudice and racism but never saw herself as a victim. She just kept moving forward. Her recognition as an American Master is long overdue.

Ruth Asawa, detail

Below are several Asawa quotes that are particularly resonant for me. They hold a lot of wisdom. Hopefully you will find something in them that rings true for you as well.

It’s important to learn how to use your small bits of time. All those begin to count up. It’s not the long amounts of time you have that are important. You should learn how to use your snatches of time when they are given to you.

Sculpture is like farming. If you just keep at it, you can get quite a lot done.

I am able to take a wire line and go into the air and define the air without stealing from anyone. A line can enclose and define space while letting the air remain air.

An artist is not special. An artist is an ordinary person who can take ordinary things and make them special.

❖

This weekend marks the 28th South End Art Hop in Burlington, with curated exhibitions to follow for the next 1-3 months. As with so many happenings right now, this year’s Art Hop will primarily be a digital event with as many in-person portions as possible. Visit the link above to learn more and for the full program guide and schedule.

I have two pieces in the affiliated 2020 SEABA Art Hop Juried Show:

and

You can see them and preview the show now. Please return to vote for the People’s Choice Award, which will go live on that link Friday 09/11 at noon through Sunday 09/13 at 7pm.

Downeast Alchemist

Don’t you love it when you come across the unexpected?

When visiting the Farnsworth Museum in Rockland, Maine last month, the last gallery I walked through held a wonderful surprise. As something of a temple to Maine art, artists, and the state itself, the Farnsworth is filled with works that express a love for the landscape, seascapes, people, and industry that make Maine the special place it is. For the most part, I would say the collection spans the early 19th century to the late 20th. In such a relatively traditional environment, happening upon Brian White’s piece Rose Arbor / Sea Street was a refreshing anomaly.

Rose Arbor / Sea Street, Brian White, 2006, Welded copper tubing, shells, Gaufrage velvet

Unquestionably, White’s piece is a confection; a dress formed of metal, covered in roses and leaves that one soon realizes are made of thousands of tiny shells. The work communicates beauty and strength, two characteristics that one might also associate with Maine. I tend to be attracted to work where the materials don’t necessarily jive with what is being portrayed, thus nudging the imagination via unexpected parallels. Take a look at Fraser Smith’s wood carved “textiles” for another example of this approach.

The gallery card adjacent to the work says of White: “his distinctive body of work reflects his sensitivity to materials and at the same time pays homage to the memory of people and events past and present, often referencing the sea”. I searched for more information on him and discovered very little. But check out John Ames “Frog Pond Journal” blog and the Peabody Essex Museum site to see others of his imaginative pieces and to gain a glimpse into White’s world.

Rose Arbor / Sea Street, detail

Having grown up on the Maine coast and logged my fair share of solitary hours on a rocky beach, I found depths to this piece beyond the obvious use of unexpected found materials. It shot me back through time, allowing me to indulge memories of childhood imaginary worlds created out of tide pool treasures and detritus washed up on the shore. What a gift of connection that is.

Read Paula Crown’s article Thinking Like an Artist – Translating Ideas into Form while keeping White’s work in the back of your mind as context. Both left me with an appreciation of the broad alchemy of art-making and how it shapes our world.