Remember the painted detail of the birds that I shared in my last post?
Here is the full painting, now complete.
Time on the Wing ©2024 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and stitching on paper, 9″H x 12″ W
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?
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.
