Category Archives: Discussion

Tilling Ideas

I was chatting with a couple of artist buddies earlier this week and one of the things that came up was the havoc that summer can wreak on devoted studio time. Considering our drawn-out Vermont winters, paired with an elongated mud season, there isn’t any question that being outside during this very limited time of sun and warmth becomes a priority. In addition to a host of other outdoor activities, most folks I know have a garden to tend. So it’s no surprise that, despite the days being longer, July and August pose an even greater challenge than usual for squeezing in everything one wants to accomplish.

Garden Study 1 © 2016 Elizabeth Fram There is one section of my garden that has been blowing me away this year. The plants are so lush and, at certain times of day, the light catches their diversity of color so beautifully. These little studies don’t begin to do the sight justice, but it’s a true pleasure to be outside with my paintbox, learning as I practice, immersed in the color and shapes.

This certainly isn’t a new or unique problem and doesn’t only occur at this time of year. When my kids were little, it became something of a quest to try to figure out how to carve more time into my schedule so I could be in the studio most days — or let’s face it, to try to carve out any time to be in the studio most days. The theories and advice surrounding ‘productivity’ which have become so prevalent in articles and on blogs now, just weren’t as easily accessible then. I did my best to make it up as I went along.

I was so excited to find the book A Question of Balance: Artists and Writers on Motherhood by Judith Pierce Rosenberg, which at least let me know I wasn’t alone in trying to devise a way to squeeze creative time in with the myriad of daily chores I had to cover. But truthfully, I found the book pretty discouraging because it seemed that those who were most successful, were so because they had hired a full-time nanny, or had a spouse who covered all bases on the home front, neither of which was a consideration for me. The most valuable wisdom lay between the lines in what a minority of those interviewed wrote: it all comes down to compromise, commitment, and some good old-fashioned ingenuity. There is no magic bullet.

One of my friends from the aforementioned conversation said that although she is spending long hours moving earth and pulling weeds these days, she is still thinking about her art and working through ideas while she’s in the garden. She may not be in her studio, but she is creatively active nevertheless. Her point reminded me of Adam Grant’s TEDtalk “The Surprising habits of Original Thinkers” which touches upon the fact that moderate procrastination can foster greater innovation and better creative solutions. To be fair, having an overflowing schedule that keeps you away from the studio isn’t quite the same as procrastination, but Grant’s theory offers a positive way to frame the frustration you may be feeling when you aren’t able to put in as much active studio time as you wish, highlighting that having time to consider and develop ideas can provide a more successful outcome. And it’s quite likely that the interruption from her usual schedule will provide a fresh perspective that will make for positive progress once she can get back to the studio more regularly.

For what it’s worth, another solution which has been very successful for me is one that I learned from Cal Newport of Study Hacks Blog. (I’ve mentioned him before; he is the guy who champions the idea of “deep work” in order to make concrete strides with what he calls “knowledge” work.) Newport asserts that scheduling is key. Don’t just add an item (i.e. studio time) to your to-do list, schedule it. It’s a rare day that everything on one’s list gets checked off, but with a designated time-slot on your calendar, priorities will get done.

Please leave a comment with your solutions for tackling this common dilemma. Thanks!

Words of Wisdom in 15 Digestible Bites

One of the few attributes of long travel days, despite the many hours spent in airports and on planes, is that there’s not much to do but read (and sketch, of course). How many days in a given year does one have the luxury of being able to sit with a book for hours on end?

A couple of weeks ago, while heading back and forth to and from California — after I’d had enough of my book, and the people I was drawing in the waiting area had all begun to look the same — I caught up on several months of articles I had saved to Pocket. Do you know about Pocket? If not, you should. It’s an app that offers a way to save all the items you come across on the web but don’t have time to read right away, making it possible to access them when you do have time — across all your devices…and it’s free!

Waiting 2 ©2016 Elizabeth Fram Most waiting travelers, regardless of age, are plugged into their devices. The advantage is they are oblivious to a lonely sketcher. The downside is there is little variation in body posture as most have nearly the same bend of the neck and hand placement while looking at their phones or tablets.

Aside from the ongoing slew of links that I stockpile, digest, and then discard, I have a few items saved in my Pocket that I’ll keep permanently. I hold onto them to reread from time to time because they’re just that good.

Entrepreneur and writer James Altucher’s excellent post entitled What I Learned About Life After Interviewing 80 Highly Successful People is one such piece. I am happy to return to it from time to time, not just as a means of giving me a bit of a boost when needed, but also to help me remember to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground. It contains 15 short maxims; points that seem appropriate no matter where we stand as we strive to keep moving forward with our goals. It’s too lengthly for me to transcribe here, so please follow the above link. I think it’s well-worth sharing and hope you agree.

Do these ideas resonate with you as well? I keep coming back to “Many moments of small positive, personal interactions build an extraordinary career”… or, one might also say “life”… don’t you think?

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In case you can go: This month members of the Vermont chapter of the Surface Design Association are exhibiting at Frog Hollow, Vermont State Craft Center in Burlington, in a show entitled “Material Matters”. We have an active and motivated group across the state and the show reflects that commitment.

The term “surface design” was coined to identify “manipulations of textiles that go beyond woven constructions”. Legendary textile designer Jack Lenor Larsen explained the term best by expressing his opinion that surface designers are interested in fabric as geography, in providing unlimited options for dimensional and structural enhancements, greater possibilities for opening interior spaces, and more opportunities for experimenting with color, texture, and design.

Frog Hollow has created this catalog of the exhibit, which you can browse through at your leisure. It offers an idea of the breadth of work on view and includes information about the participating artists.

A Worthwhile Plunge

Hard to believe, but this is the 80th uninterrupted week of posts to Eye of the Needle. When I first decided to create a blog I was concerned about a lot of things, most of which probably run through the mind of anyone who considers writing publicly. Would I have enough to say each week? Would anyone be interested enough to read it? How could I skirt an “it’s all about me” approach? …and so forth and so on.

Wine & Onion, stage one ©2016 Elizabeth Fram I mentioned last week that I had been drawing a sprouted onion a lot. It appears again in this experiment with water-soluble ink and watercolor pencils – in a sketchbook that wasn’t meant to take washes. Oh well.

Surprisingly, those issues have fallen in place relatively smoothly as it seems that there is always at least one thing that happens or that I read about in a given week that I think will pique someone else’s interest. And I truly enjoy that this blog has developed into the conversation I initially sought. (Thank you for your comments, both public and private!) But aside from those factors, I’ve discovered several unexpected gifts have materialized by showing up here weekly, benefits I never in a million years would have foreseen.

I didn’t realize how much I would enjoy the writing itself. And in turn, I had no idea I would like the accountability that goes with a weekly deadline. Maybe it’s just that I’m such a creature of routine that I appreciate the solid regularity in knowing that I have to pull together one idea each week. It turns out that the resulting benefit is that this weekly thought-based commitment is healthy for my studio work as well.

I love having the opportunity to learn and to do research in order to flesh out the sparks of whatever each week’s subject may be, with the consequence that I’ve happened across some really interesting artists, writers and concepts I might not otherwise have encountered. In terms of giving back, it’s rewarding to be a participant – to pay forward the benefits I’ve gleaned from reading other blogs. I am passing along nuggets of info I hope might be of interest to you as a nod to the way that I have learned so much from others. Sharing through information and challenges swings open doors, leaving none of us feeling we are too remote, despite working in a solitary fashion. And although it can be supremely frustrating, I’m glad for the technological knowledge that’s been a side benefit. With each new internet/computer glitch that appears, I’m gaining confidence to rise to its challenge — or at a minimum, know that eventually I’ll be able to find a way to dig myself out of the problem.

Most importantly though, I value that this blog has been an opportunity to articulate the structure behind my own work while helping me to understand the ways and means behind the way I respond to others’ art. Because that requires drawing parallels and contrasts in order to better understand issues, it’s an impetus to seek out more of what is happening in the wider world of art.

I can’t say it’s a speedy process; I probably write way too many drafts, but it’s well-worth the time and I do believe I’m getting faster. That said, if there’s any possibility that you’re considering beginning a blog yourself, I would encourage you to go for it. Who knows what discoveries you’ll make.

Here are some links to start you on your way:

Once you’re up and running, be sure to send me the link!

Share the Wealth

I have found that most artists are very generous with their knowledge. They are happily willing to share hard-won lessons from their studios, easing the road for others who are interested enough to ask. And with the internet making it possible to be more closely connected to an ever-wider creative circle, the task of addressing our own artistic challenges is eased through exposure to how others face theirs.

I have been working on this piece intermittently since February. The process seems to just drag on and on. I have definitely been in this spot before, so I know that patience and persistence are key. In the meantime, I’ve been grateful for other textile work and my drawing practice, which have provided a welcome reprieve. But that doesn’t solve the fact that I still have to finish this particular challenge.

Happily, two things this past week have contributed to getting me back on track. First and foremost, a lengthly and honest critique with a friend/artist whose ideas and feedback never fail me. I know I’ve said it before, but I can’t stress enough how important it is for all of us to have a solid bond with another artist, allowing for a frank back-and-forth about work in progress. The distance of an unbiased eye is invaluable. Hopefully you have that kind of artistic partnership as well.

Secondly, I fortuitously happened across this short, 2 minute video, recently uploaded to his blog by painter Nicholas Wilton. His suggestion to “listen to your work” speaks directly to the challenge I’m wrestling with at the moment. I was introduced to Wilton’s paintings, writing, and video clips last month by another artist friend and couldn’t be more grateful! His point of being fully “in” a work and truly listening to what it has to say hits the proverbial nail on the head. The more I read back through his archives, the more impressed I am with his ideas and generosity. Among other things, it is so important to know that certain issues are universal, no matter what level of achievement one attains.

So, I’m back at it — not thrilled yet, but finding a rhythm. We’ll see; this may be one that ends up, at best, as a good learning experience. But regardless, I am grateful for the unselfishness of others and the safety net to be found in a sense of shared camaraderie.

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And speaking of camaraderie, I can’t resist sharing this uplifting clip of the “Graffiti Grandma”, Luísa Cortesão in Lisbon, Portugal, who found joy in making street art by tagging walls with her buddies. Another reminder of the importance of community and to not take our work – or ourselves – too seriously.

Hands-On / Hands-Off

This past week marked the end of the second round of the online Journal Project that I am participating in this year. As a quick reminder, we are a group of 14 artists across the US and in Canada who are creating a 12″ x 12″ interpretation of a one-word prompt every 60 days. You can read more about the project in my post “Creative Yoga”.

This latest challenge was “hands”. My contribution integrates a shadow puppet with American Sign Language (the signs at the bottom of the piece represent “b”, “i”, “r”, & “d”), inspired by watching a sign language interpreter at our annual Town Meeting in March.

I have included images of my hands off and on in my work since college. In many ways, I identify with them as a more apt representation of myself as self-portrait, than I do my face. After all, I only see my face when I look in the mirror, but I watch my hands all day, every day, as they express the core of who I am through the things I make and tend.

Below are a few of the pieces in which my hands have stood in for me in one way or another, pointing toward issues I was moved to express at the time.

No question, hands can be a huge challenge to draw. But I found Jon deMartin’s article/lesson in the Winter 2015 issue of Drawing Magazine to be very informative and a big help. You can buy a back issue, in either in paper or downloadable form, here.

To end on a humorous note, enjoy these links on the subject of hands: You can tell a lot about a woman by her hands and Irish Hand Dancing…or something

Undeniable: Practice = Progress

One of the many enjoyable aspects of traveling is that opportunities to pull out a sketchbook are plentiful, and doing so seems to be the best way to cement detailed memories.

I love that there are multiple chances each day to both make leisurely drawings, for example while lingering in a restaurant, or to squeeze in a quick sketch during a random 3-5 minute gap in whatever else we’re doing. I try to do likewise in my regular day-to-day, but it’s much easier on vacation when there seems to be more time and less to juggle.

It’s one thing to draw an inanimate place-setting or the surrounding scene of tables and chairs, but images of people make a drawing come alive. And the more I sketch in public, the more I am finding my challenged ability to capture people quickly and accurately really needs to be addressed. The best and possibly only solution is practice.

All Star Band © 2016 Elizabeth Fram Musicians make for great models. Even though they aren’t static, their movements are repetitive allowing extra time to catch a shape or gesture. Drawing at this jazz club had a couple of advantages: we were close to the band and it was light enough that I didn’t have to strain to see the page, benefits one doesn’t usually have at a concert.

I rarely have time when I’m out and about during the middle of the day to just hang out and draw people. And since it would be ideal to have a steady stream of models whenever practicing, for now I’ve decided it’s okay to rely on my iPad and a timer in order to build up some practical capital in facility and speed. It works in a pinch, but I do keep in mind that there is no substitute for working “live”.

I bought a cheap 100-page sketchbook in Toronto for just this purpose, and I’ve set a goal of filling it up by making 8-10 quick drawings at a sitting, giving myself about 3 minutes for each. I have a long way to go, but practice definitely makes a difference. I am at least beginning to feel more comfortable placing features so that the figures aren’t just faceless beings.

Also, I am using a mechanical pencil rather than a pen — not so that I can erase, but so that I can vary the line with pressure while keeping it, for the most part, in contact with the page in an effort to work on speed.

Several of my trusty books have been helpful resources:

Fast Sketching Techniques: Capture the Fundamental Essence of Elusive Subjects by David Rankin
The Urban Sketcher: Techniques for Seeing and Drawing on Location by Marc Taro Holmes
Drawing 365: Tips & Techniques to Build your Confidence and Skills by Katherine Tyrrell

My request to you: please share any bits of advice you may have picked up along the way on this subject. I know for a fact that several of you are accomplished at drawing the figure and I would love to hear any pearls of wisdom you may have beyond the gold standard of “practice, practice, practice”.

Lessons from Canada

While out of town last week I read Gabrielle Zevin’s novel The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry. An entertaining read that surrounds the redemptive power of books and writing, I think it would appeal to anyone who is drawn to pass a leisurely hour or so exploring the shelves of an independent bookstore. Among other themes, it delves into the way certain books seem to speak directly to our deepest selves at a particular time in our life. Yet, when revisiting those passages years later, we marvel that they ever resonated so strongly, instead finding significance in completely different sections that garnered no notice on the first pass. It’s an inspiring affirmation of the way personal life experience is reflected back to us through art.

Uniform Measure/Stack Stephen Cruise, 1997 Toronto

We were in Canada, and as I go over the photos I took in Toronto’s Art Gallery of Ontario, I’m realizing in hindsight (and probably because I’ve been mulling over Zevin’s book) why the work of particular artists grabbed me. Whether through a shared affinity for composition, color, shadows, subject, or a sketch-like approach, many of the works were remarkably accessible and struck a parallel with issues I am challenging myself to develop within my own work.

Rooftops A. J. Casson, 1924

My education, for the most part, covered European, Asian and American art; I don’t remember any discussion about the work of Canadians. How can that be? So the time spent at the AGO opened my eyes to some spectacular work while broadening my exposure to the scope of Canadian art history.

Gehry Staircase in the Walker Court, Art Gallery of Ontario

First, let me say that the AGO is a gem of a museum, impressively renovated by Toronto native Frank Gehry. The galleries are warmly infused with light and provide seating (also designed by Gehry) that is unusual for its design and comfort — definitely not your average museum bench!

Gehry designed gallery seating

I was swept away by the work of Clarence Gagnon (1881-1942). Many small oils (approx. 8″ x 10″) filled one of the galleries, intimate in scale yet monumental in brushwork and descriptive power — many portraying rural Quebec landscapes, mostly in winter. His subjects surround every day occurrences, providing a contemporary feel despite depicting scenes of close to 100 years ago. Their small size captures the intimacy one finds flipping through a sketchbook, including a sense of immediacy that can be lost in a larger, more considered painting.

Horse-Racing in Winter,Quebec Clarence Gagnon, 1927, oil on wood, 22.2 x 28.2cm The Thomson Collection © Art Gallery of Ontario

Lawren Harris‘ (1885-1970) early pieces also caught my eye with their lyrical study of color, light, and snow. I was intrigued by and drawn to his treatment of shadows as subject, not merely support.

houses-on-gerrard-street-by-lawren-harris

Houses on Gerrard Street, Lawren Harris, circa 1918, oil on board , 10 5/8″ x 13″

My favorite piece of the day was Chickens on Lace by David Milne (1882-1953). This composition, with the objects arranged toward the perimeter of the piece, struck a particularly strong chord. I would have happily included it in this past post about my own inclination to use that device. His work is firmly rooted in the world around him as you can see and hear in this short video, prefaced by his no-nonsense statement “I paint what I see…at any hour of any day”.

So, while I usually enjoy any chance to see unfamiliar art because new lines of thinking and inspiration are often opened, this visit was special. In the same way that life circumstances draw us to certain passages within our reading, I think I connected with the work of these and some of the other Canadian artists on view at the AGO because it helped spur a greater understanding of the directions I am currently pursuing. But I wonder, would this work have resonated so strongly 5 years ago? And in another five years, will it hold the same sway? I’m not sure that it matters; what is important is the connection experienced now.

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The Audience, Michael Snow, 1989 Toronto’s Rogers Centre

Beyond the walls of the museum, I was truly impressed by the amount and quality of public sculpture in both Ottawa and Toronto — prominent reminders of the respect and importance with which Canadians hold their history, their environment, and the Arts. Coincidentally, Hyperallergic posted this article last week covering the Canadian government’s pledge “to invest nearly CAD 1.9 billion (~USD 1.4 billion) in the nation’s arts and culture over the next five years to promote Canadian creativity both at home and abroad”. That’s close to twice as much as the $148 million the US Federal budget has earmarked for the NEA in 2016! What I really love is their understanding that “Investing in the Canadian cultural sector helps to create jobs, strengthens the economy and ensures that the unique Canadian perspective is shared with the world.”

The Famous Five, (detail) Barbara Paterson, installed 2000 on Parliment Hill, Ottawa Louise McKinney and Henrietta Muir Edwards, two of five women celebrated in this statue for petitioning in 1927 to have women legally considered persons so women could be appointed to the Senate.

Old Chore, New Challenge

It’s always a gift when you find a way to see something with new eyes.

Dirty Dishes
“My life will always have dirty dishes.
If this sink can become
a place of contemplation
let me learn constancy here…”
— Gunilla Norris, Being Home

The above is an excerpt from a meditation by Gunilla Norris in her 1991 book Being Home. I bought the book years ago in my search for a way to be at peace with the myriad of endlessly repetitive and menial tasks that are a fact of life when tending a home with young children. I loved the children part, but not so much the housework.

It’s a soothing little book with lovely black and white photographs by Greta D. Sibley. In fact, I think those photos did more to help me reframe my perspective on daily chores than the meditations. Well, in all honesty I’m not sure I’ve ever been able to achieve a better attitude about housework, but Sibley’s images absolutely contributed to the way I observe the details of the ordinary.

There is a wonderful irony in the fact that the piles of dishes that had no redeeming qualities 25 years ago have indeed evolved into a source of contemplation. They now assume another mantle, that of a place of study — of shape, value, pattern and composition — a place “to be“, as Norris says in her introduction, “in the extraordinary beauty of dailiness”.

And she was right, my life will always have dirty dishes. But at least now I can also see them as the basis of a new still life that awaits me every day.

A Valentine to Designers

One night last week, as I was chopping vegetables for dinner, in the midst of wherever my mind was wandering, it occurred to me that the knife I was using somehow made a job I’ve done a thousand times recognizably more satisfying and even pleasant. I’m not waxing poetic here – most dinner prep is a routine chore, but it was an “aha moment” to be aware that I had subconsciously reached for that particular knife because of the enjoyment derived in using it.

It’s definitely not fancy or expensive (I actually got it for free with the stamps they give out for every $10 spent during a grocery store promotion). But the point is, despite its low cost it caught my attention in a way my other, “better” knives never have. And as I chopped, observing more closely while appreciating the heft and balance of it, I realized that the credit belonged to the knife’s design.

I invite you to take a moment to appreciate a tool you rely upon every day. As you’re poised to put it to use, reflect upon how difficult, or at least more challenging, that job might be without it.

One has to honor the brainpower that has gone into designing the art supplies, instruments, utensils, gadgets, apps, etc. that make our everyday tasks easier and more efficient. For example, a pair of scissors is an object of wonder when you consider the combination of purpose with ergonomics. It’s a mighty amount of creativity that can design an object that not only meets a specific use, yet which is also beautiful, independent of its function.

The next logical line of thinking was what worthy subjects tools make as I keep chipping away at learning to draw/paint, which in turn reminded me of Jim Dine’s prints of tools from the 70’s, published in this monograph, one of the first art books I paid for with my own money.

To explore this idea further, check out Design Milk, a website that centers on all aspects of design. This quick article (mostly photos) on abstracted kitchen tools is a good prompt for thinking more about about the marriage of design with use. (And as a side note, its column “Friday Five” interviews contemporary designers about their top five inspirations — definitely worth a peek).

So look around your space and notice which tools make a difference in your creative practice, whatever it may be. And then join me in a collective nod of gratitude and admiration for the designers who have made it their life’s work to dream up the things we take for granted, but which make such a difference, practically and aesthetically, in our day-to-day.

The Delicate Balance of Collaboration

I love jazz and listen to it frequently while I’m working. My husband and I recently went down to Brattleboro to attended a concert by the Bobby Broom Trio at the Vermont Jazz Center. The music was outstanding, and since the venue was relatively intimate, we were near to the musicians despite being seated toward the middle of the room. I found it fascinating to watch as they eyed each other closely, constantly communicating nonverbally. There was magic in the weaving of each musician’s independent voice / ideas in tandem with the others’, so that the weight of individual performances flowed between taking precedence, falling back to support another, or melding as a group in equally weighted measure. The powerful sense of the communication and generosity between them added appreciably to the concert and I left thinking about the strength of collaboration and the delicacy of managing its balance.

Dennis Carrol, bass; Bobby Broom, guitar; Makaya McCraven, drums bobbybroom.com

The next morning, at the Brattleboro Museum, I was pleased to discover another stellar instance of collaboration, this time visual. In the exhibition “Recovering the Body” two large canvases and a third smaller one created by Jon McAuliffe and Craig Stockwell exemplify seamless cooperation, joining disparate approaches (McAuliffe paints representationally while Stockwell’s imagery is abstract) in a way that broadens the resulting work, each voice adding to and enriching the other. A brief explanation of the interesting way they navigated this blending process can be read by following the above link to the exhibit .

Two other sets of accomplished collaborators that I have admired for some time are

Igor and Marina, who masterfully bring together image, surface, space and pattern. A visit to the ‘Process’ section of their website contains wonderful images of preparatory drawings.

and Gayle Fraas and Duncan Slade, who have worked together creating beautifully painted and stitched pieces for more than 30 years. (My email request for permission to display their images bounced back. Please go to their website to explore their stunning work.)

Listening to the riffs of various musicians in my studio will remind me of the importance of a shared dialogue with other artists and the wealth that may result, regardless of whether or not it involves actually working on the same piece. And that prompts the question, what means of collaboration can we each find that will push our practices forward?

Once again, the value of community and the reward of trading ideas is underlined. And while the concept of collaboration and group improvisation may not entirely explain what it is about jazz that I find so compelling, it certainly adds to the allure.

*A special thank you to Igor + Marina, Jon McAuliffe and Craig Stockwell for allowing me to use their images in this post.