Category Archives: Discussion

Life As We Know It

Welcome to Week 2 of my Summer Stories Archival Sale!

The five pieces described below are 20% off in my web shop, now through 11:59pm July 17th.
Use the coupon code Life20 at checkout.

Although these pieces span an 8 year period, they all speak to something that was top of mind for me when I made them: how do I juggle the many ingredients of every busy day, accomplishing what needs to be done while still making room for creativity? I had considered labeling this category “Parenthood” because that was my main directive during those years. But in retrospect, so many of the issues that I was confronting were hardly unique to being a parent – or any particular stage of life. Balancing limited hours, bumps in the road, being mindful of one’s actions and looking back to consider how to improve are just a part of life as we all know it.

As I mentioned in my last post, although I had the luxury of a full room to devote to art-making, my studio space was limited in terms of the materials I could use and how messy I could be with them. I had reached the point where I wanted to explore surface design in order to stretch beyond store-bought fabrics and to customize the cloth I was using in my work, but I needed to find ways to accomplish that within the constraints of my space.

The bottom line is that any perceived stumbling block can also be a call to ingenuity.
At the time, taking family photographs to the local copy shop to have customized tee shirts printed was very popular. In fact, we did just that before a large family celebration of my grandfather in-law’s 100th birthday. It got me to thinking: if one could print photos on cloth with clarity, why couldn’t that be true of a drawing or a painting?

I began to experiment with a couple of approaches.
Using oil pastels, I made abstract drawings, taking them to my copy shop to have them copied and then transferred onto cotton sateen fabric which I supplied. There was a learning curve; the colors of the copy appeared much more saturated than my original drawings and the resulting fabric didn’t have quite the same soft “hand” that it had before being printed with the transfer, but for my purposes it was a total success!

The best aspect of the copied transfers was that they picked up every textural detail from the surface of my originals. In addition to the oil pastels, I painted on brown paper grocery bags – a process that allowed for the texture of my brush strokes and for the wrinkles and folds inherent to the bags to appear on the finished printed fabric. I also made collages with the paintings before having them copied and printed, a process that presented the opportunity to have a collage effect within the printed image rather than only achieving a collage afterward by cutting the fabric and re-sewing it together.

Keep in mind, this was well before the existence of Spoonflower. How much easier and more exact this process would be for me today! But now I see these pieces as markers of possibility, both in terms of circumventing creative obstacles and in regard to a specific season within my own journey.

Thanks for being here!

Compartmentalized

Compartmentalized ©2003 Elizabeth Fram, Silk, cotton & synthetic fabrics, Heat transfer of original oil pastel drawing, Machine pieced, Hand appliqué, Machine and hand quilted, Hand embroidered, 17″H x 17″W, SALE Price: $400. This was one of my first stabs at incorporating fabric that I had designed, made from transfers of an oil pastel drawing. This piece speaks to the fact that life at the time was a series of stops and starts, all sorted into various compartments that required constant tending and nurturing so that nothing fell through the cracks.

This photocopy of my drawing was used for the transfer print in Compartmentalized. I only used a tiny section of it in the finished quilt, cutting and sewing together small areas of the printed fabric to add within the piece.

Compartmentalized, detail ©2003 Elizabeth Fram If you look closely, you can recognize the orange section from the far right of the copied drawing above, and also see that the copy’s image was reversed in the process of printing it on fabric.

Compartmentalized, detail quilted and embroidered

Compartmentalized, detail ©2003 Elizabeth Fram The textural “conversation” between quilting, embroidery and a variety of fabrics, all in chorus together, is a huge part of my attraction to working with textiles.

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Room For Adjustment

Room for Adjustment ©2004 Elizabeth Fram, Silk, cotton & synthetic fabrics, Discharge, Direct drawing with colored pencil, Pieced and appliquéd, Hand and machine quilted, Hand embroidery, 26″H x 51″W, SALE Price: $760. Becoming a parent was the perfect proving ground for realizing that no matter how much you try to get everything perfectly lined up, something will invariable throw your plans to the wind. Once this work was pieced together it felt just a bit too organized and stagnant. Taking a huge leap of faith, I sliced it right down the middle, readjusting so that it was slightly off-kilter. I can be very brave in my work, maybe not so much in life. Take a risk, try something radical, make room for adjustments.

Room for Adjustment detail colored pencil

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Unexpected Circumstances

Unexpected Circumstances ©2004 Elizabeth Fram, Silk, cotton & synthetic fabrics, Heat transfer of original oil pastel drawing, hand appliquéd, Hand and machine quilted, Hand embroidery, 37″H x 31″W, SALE Price: $640. There’s no getting around it – sh*t happens. You can either fight it or go with it. At the end of the day, as my husband’s centenarian grandfather would say, we all just do the best we can.

For Unexpected Circumstances, I made an oil pastel drawing and then had it copied in both black & white and colored versions. I brought those copies home and re-configured them by cutting and combining the two iterations in a new conglomeration of both. It was this resulting collage that I had transferred onto fabric and used within this piece, as seen directly below.

Unexpected Circumstances, detail ©2004 Elizabeth Fram While it’s all but impossible to see in this photo, I embroidered with dark blue thread on top of the printed collage, adding to the energy of the pastel marks captured in the fabric transfer.

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Tadasana

Tadasana ©2011 Elizabeth Fram, Silk & cotton, Paint, Dye, Hand appliquéd, Hand and machine quilted, Hand embroidery, 31″H x 19″W, SALE Price: $520. Tadasana is the word for Mountain Pose. This piece was made on the heels of a very busy and at times stressful period in our lives. I had been maintaining a very modest but regular yoga practice and found it was a huge help. This piece honors the peace and grounding I found through both that practice and our return to Vermont, the Green Mountain State.

Tadasana, detail ©2011 Elizabeth Fram This piece includes a bit of very contained mono-printing, made a couple of years before inserting it here. Textile paint and minimal dyeing were wet processes that I could explore in a friend’s studio and our garage. The embroidery (in white, by the stroke of yellow paint) is subtle, but integral to the pattern.

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Hindsight

Hindsight ©2006 Elizabeth Fram, Silk & cotton, Heat transfer of original painting, Hand appliquéd, Machine and hand quilted, Hand embroidered, 34.5″H x 24″, SALE Price: $600. Slowly working through the time-consuming and methodical processes of hand sewing gives one plenty of time to think and to look back on past actions and discussions. It’s in my nature to reflect on what went right, what went wrong and how one might approach things in the future. And isn’t that also a large part of trying to do one’s best at parenting? In some ways, such mulling is much like collage – a piecing together of known elements into a new configuration.

This is the original collage I created for Hindsight. Although made initially to become a fabric transfer, I went through a brief period of composing collages with painted brown paper as an exercise in-and-of itself. They weren’t made with exhibiting in mind, and certainly aren’t archival, rather they were an exercise done for fun and for myself alone.

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And finally, a quick look into the studio as promised…

When I first began this piece I was only planning to paint the eyes and to leave a lot of white space surrounded by monochromatic stitching. But as the work progressed it seemed to have its own ideas, one thing leading to another, until here we are. I’m still wrestling with the stitching on the face, but there’s something about it that won’t let me go. So I guess that’s just to say I have a lot to consider moving forward. I am learning from others’ responses that the house form is perhaps too subtle to be seen without prompting. That’s also something to think about for future pieces.

Meanwhile…

The Equivalents

I am so happy to have received this book from an Eye of the Needle reader. Not only was it a much appreciated gift in general terms, but also in light of one of the themes running through this post (reread my very first sentence). I had planned to put it aside for later in the summer, but once I began its introduction while eating lunch last week, I couldn’t put it down. It revolves around 5 artists/writers and their participation in the Radcliffe Institute for Independent Study. Were you aware of this fellowship opportunity for “intellectually displaced” women? It offered its fellows “a stipend, an office, access to Harvard’s libraries and professors and the gift of unfettered time”. That’s an opportunity we all might aspire toward; in the early 1960s it was unimaginable. Fascinating and highly recommended!

Don’t forget to use the coupon code Life20 for your 20% discount in my web shop. These five pieces will remain on sale through 11:59pm July 17th. And don’t forget, free shipping within the continental US, with hanging slats included.

The next sale will begin with my July 25th blog post in two weeks.
Keep an eye on my web shop, as the next five pieces will be available to preview soon after this sale ends. You can find them under the category “Etudes”.

Japanese Gardens

Welcome to the first post of my Summer Stories Archival Sale!

As a reminder, the five works below are now on sale in my web shop at 20% off the regular price. Use coupon code Garden20 at checkout.

For anyone joining in for the first time, these works will be available at the sale price for one week. Sale ends at 11:59 pm July 3rd.

On to this week’s stories:

In my mid-twenties, I was incredibly fortunate to have been invited by a well-to-do elderly cousin on a tour of China, with stops in Japan and Hong Kong bookending the trip. She tapped me to accompany her as a female companion, and I felt at the time as though I was stepping into a Henry James novel. Of course it was an incredibly formative adventure in many ways.

For an untraveled young woman from New England, floating down the Yangtze for a couple of weeks, taking in the many wonders along the way, was unbelievable. It’s hard to describe what it felt like to suddenly be physically within a landscape that, while so different from the West, seemed achingly familiar considering the imagery I had encountered while studying Asian art in college. It was like walking into a dream.

Throughout the trip, I fell in love with the aesthetic sensibilities and detailed workmanship of both China and Japan, a quality that seemed to permeate so many aspects of their day-to-day lives. I became especially smitten with the gardens we visited, particularly in Tokyo. Since then I have sought out Japanese gardens wherever possible — Portland, Seattle, Montreal, San Francisco, Hawaii — the lists goes on. And some twenty years after my trip, in the midst of raising our growing, busy family, I began to consider Japanese gardens as a source of inspiration for my artwork.

I chose to switch from paints and pastels to art quilts when our children were very young since, as a medium, the non-toxic nature of fabric and sewing fit easily within an erratic schedule filled with interruptions and curious little fingers. As time progressed and our family life became busier, I found myself returning to Japanese gardens for the insights – parallels even – they provided to life and art. And, during that busy, busy period, I often found myself seeking the overarching sense of tranquility they represented.

I wrote in one of my artist statements at the time: “Through the garden’s deftly controlled organic and geometric forms, a sense of organized quiet overtakes the potential chaos of a living, growing, ever-changing environment”.

Looking back, that description might well be a metaphor for what art-making brought to my daily routine with busy teenagers. I was definitely in search of organized quiet and sought to create it with my art. The slow processes of hand-sewing and embroidery were a way to carve out a corner of calm. Plus, as it turns out, drawing a comparison between the gardens and my day-to-day was yet another way to acknowledge beauty in the ordinary, an idea that has remained a mainstay of my work.

Autumn Leaf on Wet Stones

I love Autumn and I love rainy days…all the better for being productive in the studio.
Light reflected off the wet flagstones of our Pennsylvania walkway, plastered with fallen leaves from the nearby Japanese maple, was a beautiful marker of the season.

Pennsylvania walkway with Japanese maple leaves

A picture of our wet, leaf-strewn PA walkway

Discharging fabric (removing color via bleach or other chemicals to create surface patterns) proved a wonderful way to capture this quality of light and wetness. A small hand-dyed orange rectangle, backed with gold metallic fabric, then embroidered in shades of red, orange and cream, references the poetry of a single fallen leaf.

The swath of ombre reddish/orange to gold fabric on the right provides balance – a compositional device learned through studying Asian art, as well as visiting Japanese gardens and reading about Ikebana flower arranging. It is also a nod to my personal preference for asymmetry. The arc could be interpreted as the path of a falling leaf, but it is also an element that I repeated in a number of works made around that time.

I still have a length of the sheer, synthetic ombre fabric (left) used in Autumn Leaf and a number of other artworks. It looks a lot more Spring-like when backed by white board as in this photo, but laid over black silk it offers the perfect Autumn palette. At one point I ran across a shop that carried lightweight metallic fabric in a variety of colors (right) and I bought a little of every color they had on hand. It doesn’t take much, but that small touch of metallic gold peaking out from behind the embroidered “leaf” gives it the punch it needs to hold its own in the midst of the more somber expanse of the rest of the piece, while simultaneously echoing the length of color on the right.

Incorporating a variety of unexpected fabrics, such as the examples above, became a central component in my art quilts. I looked for interesting and unusual fabrics everywhere, especially when traveling, certain that whatever I brought home would eventually be the perfect element for a future piece. The more unusual the texture or quality of the fabric, the better. Needless to say, over time I have amassed a wonderful collection.

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Sunlight on the Forest Floor

Despite the deep shade underneath a tree canopy, the colors within a forest are rich and lovely. Any walk in the woods calls to mind the magic of fairy tales through the awesome beauty of nature. Watching my step on forest trails, I have always been struck by the sometimes subtle, sometimes vibrant contrast between the vast variety of greens and yellows, paired as they are with the russet brown of the soil.

Sunlight on the Forest Floor, detail Art Quilt embroidery

Sunlight on the Forest Floor, detail ©2004 Elizabeth Fram Curving embroidery snakes through an open area of red-brown fabric, surrounded by quilting that echoes its shape. The hand-made stitches are reminiscent of fallen pine needles or, taken as a whole, perhaps a dropped branch.

Walking along, one can’t help but notice the places where the sun breaks through the tree cover above. Those areas always seem to be places of enhanced sensory details – such as the scent of balsam needles, leaves glistening with moisture, or the intricacies of spider webs, standing out as the masterworks of complexity they are.

Collaging diverse fabrics together is one way to call to mind the universal nuances of such an encounter while encouraging the recall of a viewer’s personal memories.

Sunlight on the Forest Floor, detail ©2004 Elizabeth Fram Again, an eclectic choice of fabrics best conveys the impressions of everything mentioned above. The sparkling iridescent “fabric” in the center of this piece is cut from a party favor bag, left over from one of my daughter’s birthday parties. The discharged fabric (red and tan) began as red, but once discharged the underlying color was tan, not white as one might expect.

Sunlight on the Forest Floor Detail, Art Quilt

The unusual base fabric on the right side of the piece is an example of a special find. It is a synthetic composed of three layers, blue, gold and red. I’ve separated them above so you can see the individual components. I thought this fabric was perfect for conveying the beauty and complexity of soil that is rich in organic matter.

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Riffle

Water features are a key element in any Japanese garden. We’ve never included water in our home gardens because we didn’t want to attract mosquitoes. But water adds so much to a garden experience, and it’s extra special when you can cross it via stepping stones.

Riffle, detail © 2005 Elizabeth Fram This piece is an example of painting directly on fabric, not printing, but painting with a brush. I tore strips of tape and placed them on the cloth to create a mask, then painted in the spaces between. Each area of color is surrounded with hand quilting. On the vertical area to the right, the regularity of large hand stitches and machine-stitched quilting creates a contrast with the more organic painted areas on the left.

A riffle is the rippling on the surface of water, so not only does the word conjure a visual image, but also one of sound. The trickling of water is integral within most Japanese gardens. I pushed myself to interpret the idea of a riffle in four different ways: discharge patterning, quilting, pleating, and with paint.

Riffle, detail © 2005 Elizabeth Fram I have incorporated many sheer fabrics in my work throughout the years, appreciating their transparency and the multitude of ways they might be manipulated for a variety of textures. I created water-like pleating in the block of sheer fabric on the left by pressing those irregular “pleats” into the fabric before appliquéing it to the green background. Each shape was hand-quilted in place to emphasize the effect.

Riffle is essentially a series of mini compositions within one big overall composition, a challenge I set for myself that is reminiscent of how turning every corner within a Japanese garden often creates a new, equally enticing view of the same plants – just from a different angle. I greatly admire those gardeners’ design aptitude, both in creating a puzzle to unravel, and as a skill to strive for.

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One Mossy Stone

There are three things I most admire about moss: its jewel-like color, its velvety texture, and the fact that it seems to thrive on so little. I love the fact that even in the early days of Spring, moss pokes through the thinning snow with all the vibrancy of mid-summer. It is such a seemingly simple plant and yet so complex, very much like a raked Zen garden.

One Mossy Stone, detail ©2007 Elizabeth Fram The green of the stone was made by painting on interfacing. It is an example of creating my own surface design rather than relying solely on fabrics with ready-made, preprinted designs. I will write more about those explorations in one of my future story posts.

Raked gardens with thoughtfully placed large stones evoke islands floating in the sea. If those stones are covered with moss, the green stands out in such beautiful contrast to the grey of the raked gravel, creating a wonderful convergence of color with texture. One Mossy Stone speaks to the strength of that contrast.

If you look closely at this thread which was used within the center of the mossy “stone” above, you will see that it is slightly variegated between green and blue. It was hand-dyed by a Pennsylvania artist friend.

I am a big fan of variegated thread although I have never tried dyeing it myself. While I used it sparingly in this piece, as seen in the detail image above, it is a linchpin in most of my current stitched paintings, valued for its nuance and the color variations it makes possible within a very small area.
The brownish wool thread, to the left of the “stone” in the same detail image above, mimics the brown/ochre colors in the small fabric square nearby, enhancing a sense of definition and connection.

One Mossy Stone, detail ©2007 Elizabeth Fram Texture is such a major component of Japanese gardens, as it is for an art quilt. Discovering new ways to create texture with stitch became a means toward forging a strong connection between what I was making and the gardens that inspired me. The textural variations within the white-on-white and blue-grey areas of this piece create an active dynamic within largely monochromatic areas.

A couple of my favorite books during the time period One Mossy Stone was made were Being Home by Gunilla Norris and Plain and Simple by Sue Bender. Akin to a Zen garden, they highlight the strength to be gleaned by slowing down and appreciating simplicity.

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That First Peony

With all the rain we’ve had in the past week, our peonies are on their way out, but it has been a glorious year for them.
In my Pennsylvania garden, the peonies bloomed much earlier than they do here in Vermont. I often didn’t have a chance to clear the winter clutter beneath them until the first was already blooming. The contrast between the newly cleared soil (represented in brown silk on the right side of the piece) with the glorious first fully opened peony blossom, was always a thrill.

That First Peony, detail ©2007 Elizabeth Fram The central red/pink/green section, which represents the peony blossom, was cut from a relatively small mono-print on cotton fabric that I made using acrylic paint and textile medium. I was very excited by the brushstrokes which stood out so well on my plexiglass printing surface, transferring beautifully to the fabric.

This piece is another example of my experimentations with printing/dyeing my own patterns on fabric. They are pretty tame because, at the time, my studio was our wall-to-wall carpeted 4th bedroom. Obviously there was no sink and very little extra space, so not at all conducive to working with wet and messy processes.

That First Peony, detail ©2007 Elizabeth Fram The cream-colored silk with green patterning was one of my first forays into dyeing. I find it amusing how tentative the color appears to me now – and yet it is the perfect counterpoint to the all the stronger colors in this piece. It is a suitable ground for the embroidered curving lines that were enhanced by hand-quilting on either side. The textural effect of the small lime green square in the center was created by hand-quilted stippling.

This piece was chosen through the Art in Embassies program to hang in the US Embassy at Riga, Latvia for four years. If you aren’t familiar with this program, it is a wonderful vehicle of diplomacy via art that was begun during the Kennedy administration.
The US State Department treats the art they borrow (and the artists they borrow from) with tremendous respect and deference. It has been a true honor to be asked to participate, with my work hanging in the US Embassies of both Riga and Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

That First Peony, detail ©2007 Elizabeth Fram Embroidery has been an integral part of my work since my very first art quilt. Not only does it create unique textures and marks that cannot be replicated by a machine, but by virtue of being hand-worked, I think it draws/encourages a somewhat personal connection between the viewer and myself.

Phew! You made it to the end!
Should you feel a connection with any of these pieces, don’t forget to use the coupon code Garden20 for your 20% discount in my web shop. These five pieces will remain on sale through 11:59pm July 3rd. And don’t forget, free shipping within the continental US and hanging slats are included.

The next sale will begin with my July 11th blog post in two weeks.
Keep an eye on my web shop, as the next five pieces will be available to preview soon after this sale ends. You can find them under the category “Life As We Know It”.

Thanks for your interest and see you in two weeks!

Time & Space

Within hours of the total eclipse (which was all that we’d hoped for and more!), my husband left on his merry way for a much-anticipated 10-day mountain bike adventure with buddies. About a nanosecond after the door closed behind him, I got out my day planner/journal to brainstorm for an extended stay-at-home “art residency”. When have I ever had such an impressive, relatively chore and commitment-free span of uninterrupted time to spend totally immersed in my practice – not to mention giving myself permission to ignore pretty much everything else?
Exactly never.

It’s been a wonderful 10 days!
I’ve made serious progress on a new “Full Bloom” piece, worked daily in my sketchbook – including life drawing sessions on Emma Carlisle’s Patreon – and have made a point to write every morning à la Julia Cameron (if you only knew how many years I’ve been meaning to try that).

I finally tackled Rick Rubin’s The Creative Act, visited 4 exhibitions, and had some lovely one-on-one time with several friends. I was able to take a serious bite out of my much-needed website update and began the initial experiments for a couple of new projects that I’ve been mulling over for weeks.

In the evening, I watched art documentaries: The Woodmans, Georgia O’Keeffe: By Myself, and several Waldemar Januszczak episodes on the Renaissance. My 4-legged studio assistant kept me on the straight and narrow by making sure I got out for two walks every day, rain or shine. And there has been time to just think!

Figure Drawing Luminance Pencil Faber-Castell Marker

It’s been a very sweet experience with the huge gift of a wiped-clean schedule that gave me the freedom to do what I wanted, when I wanted, for as long as I wanted. It’s crazy how liberating that can be.

Glorious Clutter

Even so, I doubt I could keep up this pace forever and it will be so nice to have my husband home again tomorrow. But if you can swing it, I can’t recommend this experience enough. The benefits of a traditional art residency are many and I totally get that often, for many, the only way to achieve this kind of time and space is to leave home – which admittedly also carries the stimulation of being in a new and different space. But if the circumstances allow – even if for just a weekend, I would definitely encourage you to consider setting up a “residency” for yourself at home some time. You’ll love it.

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Here are several things worth sharing that crossed my path this week:

Maine Calling’s podcast episode on The Role of Art in Community. Be sure to check out Pamela Moulton and Peter Bruun’s websites to see their work.
We lost a shining star last Saturday when Faith Ringgold died at 93. Having only known of her painted art quilts, I was amazed to learn of her powerful early-career work. Holland Cotter’s April 15th NYTimes article “Faith Ringgold Perfectly Captured the Pitch of America’s Madness” highlights what a titan Ringgold was. This is a gift link so you should be able to access the article without encountering a paywall.
And finally, the two exhibits I’ve been part of: “Up & Down, In & Out: Embroidery and its Kin” and “Visions of Totality” are closing this weekend at Studio Place Arts and the Highland Center for the Arts, respectively. If you haven’t have a chance to visit in person, the following reviews will give you a nice flavor of both.

Seven Days, by Pamela Polston, April 10, 2024

7Days SPA Review

The Barre Montpelier Times Argus, by Mary Gow, April 6, 2024

Times Argus Banner Times Argus Visions of Totality Review

Feeling With The Eyes

After reading Gretchen Rubin’s Life in Five Senses last year, I often find myself tuning-in to more than just one sense in a given situation.

Tomita Mikiko Porcelaneous stoneware with gilding

Tomita Mikiko, Form of the Progenitor, 2019, Glazed and enameled porcelaneous stoneware with gilding

Visiting the Art Institute of Chicago a couple of weeks ago was a perfect opportunity to look beyond merely the visuals of the two exhibits we saw, considering them in terms of touch as well.

Hattori Makiko, Wandering, 2012, Porcelaneous stoneware

Radical Clay: Contemporary Women Artists from Japan is a grouping of work by 36 ceramicists — significantly, as noted, all women. The pieces are from the collection of Carol and Jeffrey Horvitz.

Ikake Sayuri, Breathe, 2015, Pigmented clay

Customarily under-recognized within a country that long excluded women from the creative side of clay, this show lends focus and acclaim to both leading and emerging female artists in the field.

Shingū Sayaka, Erosion No. 4 (Eroding Flower), 2021, Glazed and unglazed stoneware

Their work bursts exuberantly beyond the boundaries of traditional pottery, proposing wild and unimagined possibilities within the medium.

Tanaka Yū, Bag Work, 2018, Glazed Shigaraki stoneware

So much about the work is unexpected. It is curious, delightful and often somehow relatable despite the many unidentifiable and fantastical forms.

Konno Tomoko, Liberation (detail), 2022, Porcelain

Beyond that, the overall gathering point for me was texture – in all its pockmarked, frilled, spiked, gathered, ribbed, shaggy and even occasionally glassy-smooth glory.

Inaba Chikako, Leaf Vessel, Glazed Stoneware

Inaba Chikako, Leaf Vessel, 2017, Glazed Stoneware

Revisiting this exhibit through my photos has led me to realize I wasn’t just seeing it – I was feeling it with my eyes.

Ogawa Machiko, Red Vessel, reduction fired stoneware

Ogawa Machiko, Red Vessel, 2021, Reduction fired stoneware

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Moving from clay to textiles, next we visited Threaded Visions: Contemporary Weavings from the Collection. Relatively small in terms of the number of pieces, it is nonetheless mighty in impact, pushing one’s multi-sensory buttons. The works definitely have the expected tactile appeal associated with textiles, but it is the marriage of texture with dimension that most intrigued me. I didn’t so much want to run my hands over the work as I wanted to drop into the space each artist created.

María Dávila and Eduardo Portillo, White Dwarf, 2016, Silk, moriche palm fiber, alpaca, ad metabolized synthetic film wrapped thread; multilayered plain weave

María Dávila and Eduardo Portillo’s piece White Dwarf, from their imagined cosmos series, refers to a collapsing star. It is a dimensional piece with silvery metallic coils hovering above a grid of deep tones that, to me, evoke the shimmer and movement of moonlight on dark water. Read about these artists’ process and journey in Part one and Part Two, posts on Browngrotta Arts fabulous blog, ArtTextStyle.

Olga de Amaral, Alquimia III (Alchemy III), 1983, Linen, cotton, gesso, gold leaf and pigment; plain weave joined by knotted weft fringe

This glittering piece by Olga de Amaral is part of a series on the subject of alchemy. The masses of loose-end threads emerging from a background of gold leaf suggest a balance between order and chaos.

Olga de Amaral, Alchemy III, detail

Ethel Stein, Portrait, 1999, Cotton; warp and weft resist dyed, satin and twill weaves

The varying weave patterns of Ethel Stein’s stunning Portrait lend an abstract sense of rhythm to the figure within a static background. Zoom in on the above photo to see how the complexity of one area/pattern abutting another incorporates a sense of dimension within an image that essentially presents as flat.

Lia Cook, Facing Touch, cotton with rayon lining

Lia Cook, Facing Touch, 2011, Cotton’ woven on a digital hand loom; rayon lining

Finally, and perhaps most interestingly, Lia Cook addresses the idea of texture directly, as noted on the information card accompanying her piece:

“Lia Cook has long been interested in how the human brain reacts to the desire for touch. In the early 2000s, she began to work with neuroscientists to compare the brain’s response to viewing a woven image of a face versus a photograph of the same face. They discovered that seeing the woven image triggered greater activity in the part of the brain most affected by touch. Facing Touch illustrates this experiment: in it, a girl wearing a cap with sensors attached reaches out to a woven portrait also by Cook, Binary Traces: Young Girl, from 2004.”

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If you have a moment, enjoy this quick and uplifting “Stuck in Vermont” video about Hannah Miller’s quest to read, write and knit in all of Vermont’s libraries during her year-long sabbatical. Follow Hannah’s joyful journey on Instagram: @handknitbyhannah

Mending Magic

Here’s a final recommendation to close out 2023.

Mending Life – A Handbook for Repairing Clothes and Hearts by Nina and Sonya Montenegro has been on my radar since it first came out in 2020. But it took having the perfect recipient this Christmas for me to finally buy a copy. Of course I had to ever-so-gently read it before wrapping it up to put under the tree.

Mending Life

If ever there was a book containing love, this is it.
Filled with gentle stories and charming illustrations that shine a light on the humble art of mending, you will never again think of repairing something with needle and thread as just a mundane chore.

The Montenegro sisters frame mending as an act of homage – to the clothes we wear, to those who made them, to the earth we want to protect, and to those who took the time and love to mend for us in the past.

Back Cover Mending Life

The easy-to-follow illustrated directions cover an assortment of ways to darn, patch or repair — perfect for beginners and seasoned sewers alike. The authors address sewing basics, as well as the more advanced Sashiko, needle-felting, crochet and needle-weaving, reminding us that an act of repair can also be a creative gesture (think Wabi-sabi or Kintsugi). The possibilities are virtually endless.

As I grew up, every woman in my orbit had a mending basket; it was as much a fact of life as any other set of household tools, completely unnoticed in its ordinariness. A skilled repair was meant to remain invisible. And even though I patched my jeans in high-school with contrasting fabrics, I never really thought of mending in general as a form of healing, let alone creativity.

But this sweet book has changed my mind. Suddenly I’m scouring my closets, looking for something to mend. That is indeed magic!

Happy New Year!

The Art of Noticing

This doesn’t happen all that often, but I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out what to write this week. And then it occurred to me, perhaps that conundrum in itself is worth a few paragraphs.

The first pass of color literally sets the tone for what is to come

The challenge of finding something to share with you every other week, beyond just “I made this and then I made that” is a big part of what has sustained me in posting regularly for – can it really be? – nine years. Invariably, if I keep an eye open, something unexpected will spark an idea and from there it’s a matter of connecting the dots. My goal, of course, is that whatever that particular something is will be of interest to you as well.

Inspired by my sitter, drawing from my button stash was a no-brainer

So as I was driving to the grocery store several days ago, mulling over what I’ve seen, read, talked about with folks, and yes, been working on in the studio over the past couple of weeks, I was still coming up dry. But then it dawned on me: having nothing to write about is something to write about. In other words, running into walls is a given and finding a way around them is just as much a part of my (or any) practice as threading a needle and putting brush to paper.

The embroidery on this piece is relatively minimal. Not only does it encourage a viewer to slow down in her looking, but also to more closely considering the unique qualities of watercolor as the stitches and the washes work together. The hard and fluid edges throughout the work are another nod to the medium.

There’s no gliding through this game; every single detail is worthy of consideration. As Lorene Edwards Forkner of A Handmade Garden has written: “Noticing reveals the invisible”. So if I had to distill into a single element what it is that most feeds every part of my practice, both in and out of the studio, it comes down to two words: pay attention.

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While sewing the buttons on The Alchemist yesterday, I listened to a recording of Jeannet Leendertse talking about her work on Zoom. Leendertse forages seaweed (specifically Rockweed), that she sews into remarkable vessels and sculptural forms. As a native Mainer, I am intrigued by her use of this material that, as I grew up, was as common to me as grass.

Noting that she is highly aware of the materials she uses and the lasting impact of her creative process, Leendertse shared a link to Future Materials Bank, a resource that highlights sustainable materials gleaned from the waste stream and artists who incorporate them into their work. Check it out – you will be amazed and inspired.

Fertile Ground

In addition to pumpkins and apples, changing leaves and crisp temperatures, a much-anticipated harbinger of fall in central Vermont is the beloved annual Art at the Kent exhibition in Calais. If you aren’t familiar with it, follow this link to acquaint yourself with the curators who accomplish this massive feat each fall, the distinctive venue which is as much a part of the show as the art itself, and specifics about this year’s exhibit, “Traces”.

I took very few photos when I visited last week, so this post is not a virtual tour. However, I can’t encourage you more strongly to go see for yourself; think of it as a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow — a beautiful drive through a lovely part of the world, arriving at a unique treasure of an exhibition.

What I keep thinking about in hindsight is the artists who had work in multiple mediums on display. I found it enlightening that the curators chose to represent the breadth of their practices as opposed to showing only pieces from a single discipline. Creative ground is fertile. As a viewer, I enjoy considering the potential expansion of an artist’s thought processes as one medium feeds another. Or perhaps, that’s not the case. It’s entirely possible that the only way to say what needed to be said was via another language. Either way, it added to my experience to see the variety.

Many of us branch out in our work, for any number of reasons. Cross-pollination deepens our discoveries, ultimately enriching both our experiences in the studio and our results. Diversification gives us more substance to draw from in future work.

The path from Point A to Point B is often circuitous, inconsistent and complex, but it usually ends up being well-worth the ride. Pay The Kent a visit; I’m sure you will agree.

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My friend and sculptural knitter Leslie Roth introduced me to Scottish knitwear designer Kate Davies a number of years ago. I have since knitted from Davies’ patterns and also read and been moved enough to write about her book Handywoman. While I’m not a regular follower of her blog, I dip into it from time to time, always enjoying what I find there. Her recent post “September Feeling” is one to share…its sentiment is as lovely as the accompanying photographs. If you feel a strong sense of connection to the place you call home, I think you will be able to relate.

À la Carte

I’m not sure how we did it, but when we planned this year’s trip to Maine last winter we somehow landed on what might have been the best week of the summer; we only had to pay one day of rain tax. Considering what a soggy season it has been across New England, that’s really saying something.

Clark Island

Before we leave, I usually have 1 or 2 specific shows in mind I want to see, but it never fails that unexpected creative treats pop up along the way. Here’s a bit of a tasting menu of what caught my eye.

Portland Coastline ©Diane Been, Oil on paper I couldn’t stop looking at this print of a painting by Diane Beem during lunch at Mae’s Cafe in Bath. Deemed “Modern Fauvism” by the artist, the colors aren’t what one might usually associate with the Portland waterfront, and I think that’s a large part of what drew me in.

©David B Harmon Always a sucker for animals in art, I loved David B Harmon’s woodblock relief prints, some of which were huge. His exhibit “Cohabitation” at Rock City Café in Rockland calls attention to the fact that we share community with creatures of all types. And knowing a couple of special somebodies who are currently trying to negotiate a coexistence with a raccoon, this piece suddenly had special meaning.

Archipelago is a Rockland art & craft gallery filled with the work of Maine artists. Its mission is to support creative island and working waterfront communities. Currently, they are highlighting the work of Kelly Desrosiers: acrylic collage that looked (to me) like fabric.

Bird Island by Kelly Desrosiers, Acrylic Collage

The Farnsworth Museum is a gem that always has something terrific on view.

Edward Hopper, Haunted House 1926, Watercolor, gouache, pastel and graphite on paper

One of their current exhibits, “Edward Hopper and Andrew Wyeth: Rockland, ME”, blew me away. Beautifully curated, it finds strong parallels between works of two very different artists, made decades apart. The stars of the show are their subjects: Rockland, as a place, and the physical apparatuses of its historic industries. The overlap of the artists’ interpretations were both surprising and delightful.

Andrew Wyeth, Untitled (Snow House), 1983, Watercolor on paper

I always return to the fact that details are my kryptonite.

There is a world unto itself in the variation of color in each pane of glass Wyeth painted in this window.

This summer I’ve been experimenting in my sketchbook with layering assorted media, including gouache and soft pastels. So it was a treat to see how Hopper incorporated a variety of materials in this lyrically beautiful passage of grass in the foreground of “Haunted House”.

A couple of other gems at the Farnsworth I couldn’t resist sharing:

Francesco Clemente, Robert Creeley, 2002, Oil on linen, Gift of the Alex Katz Foundation Any and every portrait is intriguing to me these days.

Lois Dodd, The Painted Room, 1982, Oil on linen The ambiguity of Dodd’s depiction of this room’s painted mural, framing the window, framing the real outdoors, sets the stage for all sorts of imaginings.

I was lucky that one of my Maine buddies alerted me in advance to the (Brunswick) Curtis Memorial Library’s exhibition of Robert McCloskey’s original illustrations of some of his most iconic and best loved books.
Forgive the reflections.

Most kids from Maine know all about Blueberries for Sal. For those of us who grew up in the state and summered in an old-fashioned, down-to-earth Maine cottage on the coast (not the fancy McMansion-type dwellings built by people from away), everything about this book is comfortingly familiar (except the bears).

When I look at art, it’s invariably with an eye toward what I can learn from someone else’s expertise. This detail from one of the illustrations in McCloskey’s Burt Dow, Deep-Water Man is a masterclass on being concise without sacrificing detail.

One of a number of wooden reliefs by Blake Hendrickson, also at the library. They reminded me of my friend Dianne Shullenberger’s “Circular Earth Series”.

And finally, the cherry on top of the vacation cake was discovering this local exhibit of portraits by Abby Carter. Beautiful work honoring community.

Abby Carter

One last Maine note: There’s always time around the edges to do a bit of sketching. I’ve been very happy to learn that soft pastels can be wetted and painted like watercolors.

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And now, back in Vermont, I’ve finished the portrait you have only seen snippets of so far.

The Gardener, Detail Since it’s a bear to photograph the glow of gold paint, this detail better captures what the photo above didn’t.

Gateway to Growth

Our dog Quinn has the art of post-nap stretching down to a science.
We can’t help but admire and laugh at the languorous ease with which she lowers herself to the floor from her bed on the sofa, slowly and purposefully trailing her hind legs in order to fully stretch out her spine.

I spent our first morning exploring pattern, with the background of future portraits in mind.

Considering it’s beyond mid-May and I’m well out of my winter cocoon, I’ve been thinking about ways to figuratively emulate Quinn’s example in my practice this summer. It would be nice to shake out the cricks of habit and routine that have settled into place after months of being cozied-up inside.

Layers of color add complexity

A hopeful first step was jumping – no leaping – on-board at a friend’s suggestion that several of us take a long weekend for an artist’s retreat at her place on Martha’s Vineyard. In hindsight, there is a certain poetry in the parallel that runs between being situated on a physical island while simultaneously experiencing a metaphorical remove through focused making, discussion and inspiration.

Final spots of red could just as easily been added with thread

As with so many things, the benefits undoubtedly won’t fully surface for a while. No question, it can be quite fruitful to release some of the ideas that bang around within the confines of one’s own head, and then see how those thoughts reflect back in the light of others’ insights and responses. I have a lot to think about now that I’m home, and I know that it will take longer than the actual retreat to get to the nut of what I gleaned.

Later that same day we walked a trail that, in places, ran alongside beautiful old stone walls that are riddled with holes. They are unlike any I’ve ever seen in Vermont or Maine. Later, reading a book about the Vineyard, I learned that these walls, which snake all across this part of the island, are referred to as “lace walls” because of their unusual holes. Although my sample painting above was finished before seeing the walls up close, I can’t help but think of it now as an abstraction and reminder of Chilmark’s unique and ubiquitous boundary markers.

I’m feeling like I got a satisfying stretch for my brain and my practice, and am ready to move forward.

Trimming down what I brought with me took some thought because there is the very real temptation to bring everything. Bottom line: it doesn’t take much to create and settle into a transitory studio.

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This summer I am planning to balance stitched studio portraits with more spontaneous versions that are painted from life in a group setting. The difference between the two is obvious, but I feel like each approach feeds the other in a way that ultimately benefits both, as well as my own learning arc.

Southern Venture

Ready for a quick trip to the South?
Last week we visited Charleston, SC and Savannah, GA and, as on most travels, there was plenty of art to enjoy in the moment and to think about after coming home. Here are a few highlights from The Gibbes Museum of Art in Charleston, my favorite of the various art venues we visited.

Imagined Boundaries ©2017 – present, Raheleh Filsoofi, Multimedia Installation. In this striking wall installation, Filsoofi asks viewers to consider — What is a limit? What is a border? Who is on the other side? Her aim is to interrupt cultural preconceptions and to create dialogue around socio-political issues such as borders, immigration and community building by creating boxes that act as portals communicating shared humanity.

These are still shots from a video within one of Filsoofi’s boxes. The viewer becomes participant in that the video subjects appear to be checking us out as closely as we are observing them.

Self Portrait Emma ©2002 Alison Saar, Oil on Skillet. Saar’s work frequently focuses on societal notions regarding the positioning of African Americans and women in domestic realms. This oil portrait of a domestic worker on the bottom of a frying pan is intentionally faint, (I have drastically over-exposed my photo to make it visible to you) invoking the relative invisibility of a typical household cook or kitchen maid.

Never Again ©Mary Jackson, Sweetgrass and palmetto. Mary Jackson is an internationally recognized master of sweetgrass basketry. This piece took 3 years to complete.

What attracted me to The Gibbes Museum in the first place was their collection of miniature portraits. According to the museum’s literature, the first-ever American miniatures were painted in Charleston and the Gibbes collection holds over 600 works spanning from early colonial examples of the 18th century to the Revival Period of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
They are remarkable!

H.F. Plowden Weston, by Charles Fraser, 1824

Miss Reynolds of Fenwick Hall, by Charles Fraser, 1835

Christopher Gustavus Memminger, by Charles Fraser, 1823 This gentleman looks so familiar to me! I think I’ve watched way too many Masterpiece period dramas.

Actor Jack Farthing

How wonderful to see Joseph Jackson’s sketchbook which held preliminary portraits that he may have used to impress perspective clients.

Moving on, there’s nothing quite like an independent bookstore for providing a sense of grounding when visiting a new locale. Curated shelves that reflect local pride in the history, authors and artists of a place reveal the rich undercurrent of a city in a way that generic travel books can’t begin to match.
If you’re willing to snoop around a bit, you never know what you might discover. A visit to Buxton Books in Charleston opened a couple of interesting doors for me.

I loved the art on the cover of this book of poetry by South Carolinian Marlanda Dekine, and had to find out more about Fletcher Williams III, the artist who created it. The piece is named “Westward”.

It turns out that Williams has a resume that extends far beyond book cover illustration. He is a multi-media artist living and working in Charleston, making identity-based art and is a rising star. With an academic foundation in psychology and anthropology, his artwork speaks to the history of Charleston and the culture of the Lowcountry, but not in the way one might expect.

Taking time to follow the interview links on Williams’ website gave me a much deeper understanding of both his artistic aims and the challenges he confronts. He is incredibly thoughtful and articulate. His discussion regarding having to navigate the complexities of feeling pressured to speak to the Black experience, while coping with narratives thrust upon him and his artwork that are not his own, was enlightening. While I don’t think one can ever fully grasp the underlying dynamics of a specific place unless one is a native, I found it fascinating (and important) to get a glimpse, via his interviews, beyond the usual tropes and assumptions.

And for those more interested in textiles, the other book that caught my attention was Embroidery: Threads and Stories from Alabama Chanin and the School of Making by Natalie Chanin. It was way too fat and heavy to bring home in my carry-on, but I snagged a Kindle edition and am looking forward to reading, rather than just flipping through this part autobiography, part “exploration into how sewing and embroidery relate to wider concerns of sustainability, community and women’s empowerment”.

If you go, other bookstores to explore in both cities:
Blue Bicycle Books, Charleston
E. Shaver, Bookseller, Savannah

Two museums to check out in Savannah:
Telfair Academy (The first museum in the US founded by a woman), and
The Jepson Art Center
Oh, and there’s a Blick store in Savannah too!

And now, it’s nice to be home.