Category Archives: Books

Flipping Pages

How’s your summer reading going?
I’ve been on an unusually good roll this past month and have lucked into a string of excellent books. If you’re on the lookout for some ideas to round out your August picks, consider the following:

The Nature of Things – Essays of a Tapestry Weavery by Tommye McClure Scanlin
Always intrigued by the behind-the-scenes methods of any artist, I gravitate toward the compare and contrast game that surrounds learning how someone else approaches their work. Scanlin clearly and effectively writes about the not-so-straight line from inspiration to finished piece that is familiar to all of us. While this book shares many practical details particular to weaving, you don’t have to be a weaver or know anything about the discipline to enjoy these essays. Rather, this is a book for anyone interested in learning how an artist’s process unfolds.

Blue Rib Sweater ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and graphite on paper, 8.5 x 11 inches Somehow my needle and thread have taken a back seat this summer and I find myself practicing relatively quick portraits. My goal is to completely fill this sketchbook, hoping to see progress. I’m not flipping the page from textiles, rather I’m taking an intermission with the thought that everything is a potential deposit into the creative bank.

Paradise in Plain Sight – Lessons from a Zen Garden by Karen Maezen Miller
As a huge fan of Japanese gardens as an art form, this book taps into my love for the layers of complex beauty manifested through each garden’s deceptive simplicity. Meandering through her own adopted garden, Miller highlights ways that life is often reflected in the specific characteristics of a Japanese garden and what can be gleaned from that parity. Elements of this meditation/memoir reminded me of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden. Calm and wise, this is a great read for our tumultuous times; it’s one I expect to return to in the future.

Wish You Were Here by Jodi Picoult
Although Covid is still with us, unless one faithfully kept a journal throughout those early months, there are a lot of sharp details that have blurred, even in the relatively short time that has passed. This book is a crystal-clear fictional reminder of those fearful early days when the world changed so drastically almost overnight. While I would only give the story itself a B/B+, as an historical marker of the details surrounding our universal uncertainty, paired with the reality of what a tough climb recovery could be for those who survived being on a ventilator, I give this novel a solid A+.

Art & Fear – Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking by David Bayles and Ted Orland
A perennial favorite that should be on every artist’s shelf. Like many good books, it will strike you differently depending where you are in your life and practice at the time you pick it up. That is exactly the reason this one is worth reading again and again.

The Secret Lives of Color by Kassia St. Clair
There’s a certain joy to a book that can be picked up, put down, and opened at any given page without losing steam. St Clair’s bite-size essays tell the stories of specific colors, their history and the impact they have had upon human civilization and culture. You won’t look at your palette in quite the same way after reading it.

Profile ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and graphite on paper, 12 x 18 inches At life drawing, we all gather around the model in a somewhat haphazard fashion, skootching a bit to the left or right to try to get a good vantage point. I can’t remember the last time I had a true profile to work from, but this lovely example was a real treat to try to capture.

Taste – My Life Through Food by Stanley Tucci
After watching Tucci’s gastronomic romp “Searching for Italy” last year, I’ve been waiting for our library to get a copy of Taste. I recommend the audio version, read by Tucci himself. At times humorous, other times touching, and always rich with anecdotes and recipes, this book is a feast unto itself. It is the ideal of what I think of as a “summer read”.

I’d love to know what books you’ve been reading this summer. Please share any of your favorites in the comments below.

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.

Testing, 1-2-3

The thing about Shibori is it can be both mentally invigorating and relaxing, often at the same time. I’ve been looking forward to this week’s work, knowing I’d have the stimulation of a puzzle paired with the soothing calm of stitching row upon repetitive row of running stitches.

Quick notations capture possibilities and remind me of fleeting ideas

In teasing out an approach for the dyed background of my “letters from home”, I’ve thought of plenty of possibilities. The overall goal is to find an idea that is generally repeatable, yet with enough elbow room for variations that will allow each piece to hold its own among the others in the series.

I keep even the smallest amounts of dye on hand so that I can make mini-samples on the fly. For the process of Ori-nui, the cloth is folded and stitches are made parallel and close to the fold. It’s a good way to achieve definition. I felt the stitches I’d made in this sample were too far from the fold, so I adjusted that distance in my final, full-scale sample.

I also have to keep in mind how the embroidery-to-be will fit, so that it doesn’t become lost against the color and pattern of its dyed background.

Once I get to the stage of sewing the resist stitching, I can settle in and relax. Where to stitch, what direction those stitches will take, and where the knots will be placed have all been decided. So there’s nothing to do at this point but listen to a book or podcast and get to work.

It’s all well and good to jot down options in a sketchbook, but it isn’t until the needle actually pierces the cloth that reality sets in and decisions/questions begin to crop up in earnest. Should the striations of pattern all go in the same direction – or perhaps oppose each other? How best to keep a crisp line between areas of pattern and open spaces of dye? Can I balance those two while keeping in mind that the third crucial element of the embroidered imagery will be added later?

With the stitching complete, the fabric is ready to soak and then all the threads will have to be drawn up tightly and knotted before beginning the dye process.

An example of the many things to think about: an often overlooked characteristic of Mokume stitching is that even the point where one chooses to begin a row of stitching can impact the final appearance. I am quite fond of the little white dots left un-dyed by the knots at the end of my stitching thread, so I try to work out ways to incorporate them that will enhance the piece without distraction. It’s worth noting that beyond contributing added visual “zip” for those who look closely, those tiny spots are also a reminder that this process is very much hand-made.

Admittedly they are very subtle, but I think the marks left by the knots at the end of my thread elevate the pattern as a whole, so I try not to hide them if possible.

Last but not least, at this early stage everything must be worked within a pre-determined finished size to accommodate framing.
So yes, lots to think about and I have my work cut out for me. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And there you have it – the finished, dyed piece. The dye came out a bit like the Northern Lights, don’t you think?

If I go with a 12 x 12 inch final dimension as originally planned, this is about where it’ll end up.

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Most of our fall yard chores are now complete, crowned, as always, by the all-important planting and securing of the garlic under its snug winter cover of leaves and burlap.
Time to get ready for garden dreaming in hibernation season by turning to books. After reading the article I mentioned in my last post, I picked up David Culp’s The Layered Garden from the library for his ideas on how to bridge the seasons in your garden. My favorite example of this idea is Jack Lenor Larsen’s Red Garden at the Longhouse Reserve.

I have a beautiful red twig dogwood and tend to leave areas of echinacea and bee balm for visual interest against the snow (and any late foraging birds). But I wonder what other ideas Culp might have. I was rewarded this morning, waking up to a frosted landscape that reminded me just how lovely every season can be.

Frost

Sidestepping Into New Territory

After a busy several months, I’m yearning for a break from routine. My solution is to change things up a bit in the studio in lieu of a get-away. I have a couple of new pieces in the pipeline, but I’m not going to rush them. Instead, I’m giving myself the gift of taking a side-step and am devoting some time and energy to experimentation — tweaking familiar processes in new ways, and exploring with completely new materials.

While I generally like the colors and some passages of pattern in this stitched-resist swatch, overall it’s too much of a mish-mash. Next time I’ll try to harness effects that bear repeating, yet with more control and organization.

It’s been something of a happy coincidence that, on a lark, I just happened to check-out Every Tool’s a Hammer by Adam Savage from the library. Riffing on the nuts and bolts and many facets of his life as a maker, Savage (of Mythbusters fame) outlines and affirms the approaches that have contributed to his successes — and just as importantly, to the failures that have eventually led to that success.

Using the same dyes as for the first cloth, this test has a better sense of rhythm and more coherent pattern.

He addresses a variety of techniques that he’s come to rely upon. And speaking directly to the benefits gleaned through periods of methodical exploration and discovery, he acknowledges the inherent and longterm advantages to be found there. More anecdotal than didactic, the wisdom shared is applicable across the board — whether you are a seasoned artist or a young person just starting to find your way.

Inspired by Emma Carlisle, I asked for & received a set of Tombow Dual Brush Pens for Christmas; they’re perfect for this period of stretching. As Savage writes, new tools are a way to explore the space of possibility. Apparently these pens are used quite a bit for calligraphy, but the brush-like tip on one end, which provides a calligrapher with a thick/thin line, allows me to lay in broad swaths of color in a moment or to squeeze into small spaces with its tip. For my purposes it’s both a drawing and a painting tool in one. Some colors are affected by other colors drawn on top, and some aren’t. Adding black and white charcoal pencil extends the possibilities for mark-making and visual texture.

Many of the tenets and discoveries Savage outlines, I (and you too, no doubt) have painstakingly made for myself over the years, so there’s a sense of reassurance in the shared epiphanies. Even so, it turns out to be the perfect companion to my current explorations which are serving up an inevitable share of frustration as I slog through unfamiliar terrain. With that in mind, if you know a young maker, it’s a book that would make an excellent gift for the beginning of their journey.

Because I’m always fighting my natural tendency to work tightly, I love the looseness of this drawing. The Tombow pens make it almost impossible to get too detailed. I have a small 5.5 x 5.5″ Global Art Handbook sketchbook that takes the ink well, without bleeding through the paper or causing it to ripple. It’s a concise size for practicing faces. My set of pens is limited to 10 colors and I find myself reaching for hues I don’t have. Even though I’m trying to be imaginative and play into the limitation, I couldn’t resist ordering some more to fill in the gaps.

Elaborating on the messy reality of making, Savage acknowledges there will be plenty of mistakes along the way, and where you end up will most likely not be the place you’d envisioned when you first began. But he rightly points out that that is why we love making — if we knew exactly how things would turn out, what would be the point? Accommodating and welcoming the inevitable wrong turns and side tangents opens the door to something much greater than initially imagined.

This sketch has ventured into the “overworked danger zone”, but there is something to be said about the depth of color that comes through. Learning by doing is the only answer.

He illustrates this theory with a quote from painter Francis Bacon: “One has intention, but what really happens comes about in working.” And that is the notion I’m hanging onto as I delve into new territory.

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Instagram of the Week

Speaking of Emma Carlisle, take a look at her Instagram. There’s something about her use of color and line that conveys a sense of place and of immediacy that I find both soothing and exciting at the same time.

When We Emerge

My first piece of 2021 has returned from the photographer, signaling it is well and truly finished. Although it was a bit of an engineering puzzle compared to all my other little houses, who doesn’t welcome a good challenge at the start of a new year?

Since the coronavirus took hold, books have been a refuge for me; this piece is a nod to that fact. In addition, inspired by a set of Christmas matryoshka dolls that are part of our holiday decorations, I wanted to reference the joyful surprise of uncovering something unexpected and special within an outer shell.

This piece opens like a book to reveal a smaller house within that depicts a diverse crowd of people on that proverbial sunnier day we all anticipate so hopefully. It conveys that we will get through this dark period, and we’re doing it together.

The buttons, while not exactly a silver lining, are a reminder that beauty is 90% perspective and that positives often lie hidden within the gloom. Despite the challenges, my family and I have had much to be grateful for during this time. Not least among those advantages, I count on art-making because it has kept my mind and hands busy through all the uncertainty. It has been no small boon to be able to process the varied emotions of the past year via these little structures.

When We Emerge, back view ©2021 Elizabeth Fram This shot of the back of the piece shows that the threads used to sew the buttons to the inside were carried through and left hanging on the outside, suggesting the prickly nature of the past year, and to some degree, the virus itself.

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Book Report

I’ve set a goal of reading at least one non-fiction art/business book each month this year. Written in 2006 by architecture critic for the New York Times Michael Kimmelman, The Accidental Masterpiece – On the Art of Life and Vice Versa was my choice for January. Kimmelman draws a connection between art and daily life as experienced by all of us as regular folks — not as a phenomenon meant only for the elite. While discussing such subjects as creating one’s own world*, collecting, following a routine, and appreciating the beauty and exceptional qualities to be found in the ordinary, he makes the point that it’s not a stretch to imagine that our days are often steeped in artistic endeavors and influences, even within our outwardly most humble actions. Fostering the ability to recognize what that idea means individually to each of us, and how that concept manifests itself, is a path toward enriching each day.

Generally fascinating, although I felt a few of the chapters could have been shorter, Kimmelman unpretentiously offers some thought-provoking and relatable musings about how the pleasures of art are within reach for everyone.

*Coincidentally, and in the same vein as Kimmelman’s ruminations, a new subscriber sent me a link to Ann Patchett’s moving essay These Precious Days which appeared last month in Harper’s Magazine. It’s not short, but it is oh-so-worth reading. It will move and uplift you, and I bet, like me, you will finish it feeling grateful that there are those who have the ability to translate even the direst of circumstances for our consumption, helping us to digest them and still find beauty.

Inspiration

I come across many wonderful artists on Instagram while I’m scrolling by myself. There are a few that make me want to exclaim “Wow! Look at this!” but I’m usually alone at the time, except for Quinn. Then I though of you. I’m going to try to remember to share the most exceptional of what I find at the end of future posts.

@Khaled_dawwa
Khaled Dawwa of Clay and Knife is a Syrian-born artist who has been based in France since 2014. A short post about him on Hi-Fructose, that incorporates images of his work and a bit of his backstory, states that he is “influenced by his own experiences (which include being)…injured in a 2013 bombing, then arrested, imprisoned, and now exiled.”
Powerful stuff.

Too Good To Pass Up

At times books feel like lifeblood; never more so than now.
And while I’m not yet at the point of thinning out my library, I am making a real effort to not bring too many new books onboard…unless they’re digital.

Studio books – a drop in the bucket if you consider all the others scattered in every room of our home.

As an aside… I love digital books for a number of reasons. First, they take up no physical space so there are no worries about where to store them. This is particularly helpful for reference books — the big, heavy ones that aren’t often needed, but which one still wants to have readily available on the “shelf”.

Embroidery

Digital space-saving also makes it possible to bring a ridiculous amount of reading material along when traveling (remember traveling?) so there are myriad options to choose from on a long flight, during an unexpected delay, or on a rainy day. I should have had my Kindle with me on this trip.

Shibori

Finally, I love that because of the back lighting, colored images are enhanced and come alive when viewed on an iPad. The ability to zoom in to see details is a wonderful advantage. I’m embarrassed to admit that more than once I’ve caught myself spreading out my thumb and index finger over an image on a paper page in an unconscious attempt to get a closer look.

Draw & Paint

But I digress.
The main point of this post is that this week, for the first time since I can’t remember when, I actually bought an in-the-flesh exhibition catalog. A Hyperallergic article about a show of Aminah Robinson’s (1940-2015) work, currently at the Columbus Museum of Art, sent me on a search to find out as much as I could about this prolific artist – previously unknown to me, but a cultural icon in her hometown of Columbus, OH.

I was blown away. The scope of Robinson’s work: painting, sculpture, textiles, book art, illustrations, mosaics, and on and on and on… is remarkable. So I ordered the catalog from the Museum (better to support them than the huge entity that will go unnamed) and now I’m just waiting for its arrival.

Raggin’ On: The Art of Aminah Brenda Lynn Robinson’s House and Journals

So far it’s been a fruitful month for exploring the work of women artists. A few more I’ve been learning about:

Bisa Butler – Dynamic portraits in cloth that tell the story – the African American side – of the American life
Georgia Rowswell – A mixed-media artist whose environmentally conscious work celebrates the beauty of the Wyoming landscape. Her website alerted me to the documentary The True Cost, a stirring commentary on the human and environmental after-effects of fast fashion.
Suzan Frecon – Color is her driving force. Her approach, unlike Robinson’s, is that art should not need the embellishment of story; that it has the singular purpose of speaking for itself.

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And finally, Unmasked: Artful Responses to the Pandemic opens this coming Saturday at the Southern Vermont Arts Center, Manchester, VT. It is a safe and in-person exhibition that reveals how the challenges of COVID-19 have impacted artists’ practices and output, while also demonstrating that art-making & creativity can offer a form of protection against the negative effects of the coronavirus.

Unmasked postcard

The selfies of friends (5 of which are included in this show), and the little houses I’ve been making this past year, have certainly proven to be a bulwark for me during this trying time.

6 “Bests” For 2021

As a final post for 2020, let me offer something short and sweet to either close-out the old year, or to begin the one (depending on when you’re reading this).

Our niece adopted a quarantine puppy! While I’m looking forward to the day when I will be able to meet Mavis in person, it was almost as much fun to work on a drawing of her as a Christmas present.

I’m a sucker for “best of” lists because they always prove to be a source of new inspiration in one way or another. So in that spirit, I’d like to share a bit of the wealth that has brightened the past year for me. I hope something in this grouping will catch your eye and lift up your 2021.

Best Podcast: Art Juice
Louise Fletcher and Alice Sheridan always seem to have something interesting to talk about, whether it’s on the business or practical side of art. I learned a lot from them in 2020 and always enjoy their down-to-earth and unassuming approach.

Runner Up: City Arts & Lectures
Their tag line says it best: “conversations with outstanding figures in literature, politics, criticism, science and the performing arts, offering the most diverse perspectives about ideas and values”.

At various stages along the way, I like to take pictures to map my progress. Sometimes I can catch missteps in a photo that I don’t see when just looking at the drawing in the flesh, which helps me to reign in any problems before a piece goes awry.

Best Art Blog: Susan Abbott’s Painting Notes Blog
Susan’s knack for writing about her own work while weaving in a healthy and palatable dose of art history offers insights that are always inspiring — a testament to her teaching ability. She doesn’t write all that regularly, but it’s a red-letter day when a new post appears because it is guaranteed to contain some nugget that I will continue to think about for days afterward.

Best Newsletter: Gaye Symington’s Morning Messages
I read Gaye’s almost-daily “newsletters” first thing each day to start my morning on a positive note. Her efforts are a gift. They are a reminder that despite all the bad news that will undoubtably surface as the day wears on, there is still much beauty and joy to celebrate, right in our own backyards. Gaye includes images and links that touch on art, the natural world, and the many folks who work hard at bringing light to the rest of us. Plus, she always closes with a poem.

Laying in marks like this is a lot like stitching. In many ways, working at one discipline feeds my practice of the other, making them mutually beneficial.

Best Books:
It’s hard to attach the label “best” to any one book, but here are my top 10 of the 50 I’ve read this year. Many are not new, and some I’ve touched on in previous posts — here, here, & here. But as I look back, I realize that these were the books that brought me the most solace and insight during this wild year.

- - Circe by Madeline Miller
  - Unsheltered by Barbara Kingsolver
  - Afterlife by Julia Alvarez
  - Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates
  - The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie
  - Keep Going by Austin Kleon
  - Breath by James Nestor
  - Journal of a Solitude by May Sarton
  - Virgil Wander by Leif Enger
  - A Month in Siena by Hisham Matar
  - And BONUS: Material: Making and the Art of Transformation – How Working with Our Hands Makes us Human by Nick Kary (thanks Pam!) This was my last book of the year and a lovely way to close things out. It is a beautifully written meditation on making, tools, and materials, with a measure of history thrown in.

And finally,
Best New (to me) Concept: The “Not-To-Do List”
I happened upon this idea last month when reading an old, old post by Lisa Call. It’s a worthwhile twist to consider while planning your goals and solutions for 2021…whatever they may be.

Thanks for reading and Happy New Year!

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.

The Comfortable Reliability of Change

A friend, who understandably seeks mid-day breaks from her job’s unrelenting stream of Zoom meetings, recently asked me if I found what I do equally challenging because I seemingly need to sit in one place for long periods each day. My quick answer was no.
While there are plenty of long stretches when I am stitching or drawing, there are so many other elements to what I do that I can easily stop at any time and move into another phase of the work (or, for that matter, to take Quinn for a walk, do a bit of weeding, throw in a load of laundry or do the breakfast dishes, etc.). The ace up my sleeve, aside from the fact that I am in charge of my own schedule, is change – it keeps things fresh and it keeps me interested.

The color combo of these daylilies and liatris makes any trip to the veggie garden or compost bin pure pleasure.

That fact is just as true for living in an environment where the landscape is in constant flux because of the seasons. Those changes set a rhythm and a tone, not only shaking things up, but also offering a sense of reassurance in their constancy.

When the view out the window is subdued for many, many months, one can’t help but revel in the variety of tones and the lushness of texture to be found in a composition of greens.

Personally, I find contentment in the muted colors of November through March, enjoying the visual calm after the fiery hues of fall. In a strange way, the lack of color outside during that time of the year, makes my work with color inside all the more inspiring. And not to be discounted, there is no truer light in the studio than on a snowy day. But I also look forward to the rejuvenation that comes with the early blush of maroon and lime-green as trees flower and begin to leaf-out across the hills in April and May, knowing that there will be a fuller and brighter spectrum to follow.

In 2012 I built a stone herb spiral that is usually reserved for herbs and flowers. This year I had a few leftover Rainbow Chard seeds that I took a chance would sprout there and that I hoped would be ignored by the critters. Success on both counts! But even more rewarding is the jolt of color in the magenta central stems and veins of the chard leaves, humming alongside the singing petunias.

On a visual scale, summer is its own entity. This is the one short season when we have a measure of control and can choose for ourselves, via our gardens, the colors that surround us. Is it any wonder that so many artists garden and so many gardeners are artists? There is a Monet quote: “I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers”. I think every artist carries within them a bit of that sentiment. One of my earliest posts celebrated the garden of artist David Stearns. It remains one of the loveliest home gardens I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting.

If there is one plant I eagerly await each year, it’s this delphinium. It adds so much to my front bed in height, shape, and glorious color. It’s situated so that I can enjoy it from inside as well. And each winter, when the snow slides off the roof in that spot, piling up to just about the same height, I think of this beauty that lies in wait for mid-July.

This year my garden has been a refuge unlike ever before. The bright colors and gentle scents are a salve during a point in time one might metaphorically equate with winter. While it’s been hotter and drier than usual and some plants are doing better (and others worse) than last year, I am always amazed to know I can expect each plant to reappear and then come into its own within 3-5 days of the date it did every summer before. Heck, I can even count on the Japanese beetles to show up around the same week each year. Good or bad, I find a great deal of comfort in this reliability — especially now, when so much in the world seems out of control.

Work in progress: This new house I’m currently working on is a reflection of the joy our yard and garden are bringing to me this summer. It celebrates the myriad colors that surround me and the sense of home and hope that comes from watching all our plants cycle in and out, the same as they do every year.

But just as dependably, the seasons come and they go. The bright colors that are so enjoyable now, will transition to deeper shades before fading altogether. So, I find it worth thinking about and appreciating the oxymoron of the consistency to be found in change, and how that lends the gift of both excitement and stability to our day-to-day existence.

The Artist's Garden

Maybe you aren’t as interested as I am in getting your hands dirty, or perhaps you are. Either way, two books I’ve been enjoying this month are The Artist’s Garden: The secret spaces that inspired great art by Jackie Bennett, and Spirit of Place: The making of a New England garden by Bill Noble. Both are a testament to the joy that is possible right outside your doorstep.

Spirit of Place

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Update

I had so much fun with this latest addition to my “selfie project”. Hard to believe as I look at it now, that the leaves hadn’t even fully budded when the photo sent to me was taken. But generally, the image struck me as very hopeful and joyful – a mini-celebration of the fact that spring was on its way, despite our all being confined to home at the time. I’ve tried to use color to help further that feeling.

A Little Bit Of Everything

Such a sobering week.
I have spent most of it trying to grasp the horror of what we’ve all witnessed, while doing my best to learn from those who are far more in touch than I as they respond to George Floyd’s murder. The voices that have most moved me are those of people on the street, in the midst of peaceful protest, articulating their direct experience of life in this country as African Americans. Many of them, interviewed in the moment, demonstrate more grace and eloquence, measured strength and wisdom than one might think possible in the face of this latest devastating event.

How could one’s heart be anything but heavy at the way our communities of color have long been, and continue to be treated? Words are woefully inadequate.

I am a privileged white woman who has never for a moment worried that my actions might be observed and misconstrued as threatening. And even more tellingly, I have never ever worried that my children might be profiled or be mistakenly, dangerously detained because their race made them inherently suspicious. I cannot fathom how harrowing living within that reality must truly be.

I tend to turn to books as a means for reaching beyond my ignorance and for improving my understanding. Both Ta Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me and Angie Thomas’ The Hate U Give have guided me along that path. Kareem Abdul-Jabar’s May 30th op-ed in the LA Times also sheds light.

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My piece for the Sheltering in Place exhibition is now complete. The show will be a compilation of both visual work and haiku. Exact dates and venue are still to be announced. It will also be available to view online. I will let you know details as I get them.

In a completely unrelated note, other than the fact that it has to do with stitch, in 2018 the BBC produced a show called A Stitch in Time with fashion historian Amber Butchart. It explores historical figures in art and the clothes they wore. Each piece of clothing is carefully recreated, exploring techniques and materials as they were originally used. The mixture of art, history, and authentic construction techniques is fascinating. I viewed it on Acorn TV through my library’s RB Digital app, but you can also see the six episodes on Youtube.

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And finally, my “Selfie Project” of friends continues — this week with the supremely creative Hasso and her canine pal Woody. In addition to the one she sports in this image, Hasso wears, and has worn, many hats: artist, curator, landscape architect, graphic designer, illustrator, and organizer of our weekly life drawing group.

The photo she sent was filtered, so it was difficult to see and capture minute details (her eyes for instance). But as I told her when I sent her a scan of the finished drawing, that fact made this piece challenging in a good way. I love to get lost in details but, because of the blurred effect of the photo, I was forced to think more in terms of lines as marks and pattern for filling blocks of shape, rather than as a means for describing form. One of the great things about this project is that each new selfie offers worthwhile lessons to learn along the way.

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Finally, the ever-present question is what can each of us do to make the world a better place? I’d like to thank Cory Huff of The Abundant Artist for proposing to his email subscribers that he would match any gift up to $1000.00 this week to The Black Futures Fund. I can’t think of a better way to try to contribute to change than to support Black arts and culture.