Category Archives: Discussion

Asking the Right Question

How often have you found that just the right question will snap an idea into perspective?

Last week, during our Zoom panel discussion “Signify: A Conversation about Meaning & Technique”*, which was based on the current exhibition Hidden Messages: Old and New, our moderator, Leslie Roth, posed a meaningful question (among many). She asked the 3 of us on the panel whether our perception of our work shifts as a result of seeing it in a new environment or context, or in the way it interacts with its surroundings and other nearby art.

A few images from within the show to give you an overview

More than any other exhibit, I’ve been hearing very positive feedback from the other artists in this show regarding the placement of their work. Overwhelmingly, these folks, including the other two panelists, have mentioned that they felt their art had been elevated in some way by the other nearby pieces, acknowledging the expertise that had gone into creating groups of art that work well together and, one might even say, in conversation with each other.

However, I have a bit of a contrarian view — not because I wasn’t happy with how my pieces, or the show as a whole, were hung — far from it! I think those responsible did a superb job. But because, at the core, I don’t tend to engage with my (or others’) work in relation to its surroundings when on display. When I look at art it’s a sink or swim game — the work either shines or it doesn’t. I am drawn directly into each individual piece, studying and appreciating it by and for itself, without consideration of its neighbors in that opinion.

Of course I wouldn’t be pleased if I felt my work had been placed so that it was somehow given short shrift, but aside from that, I can’t imagine or remember an instance where I thought my work might read differently, in either a positive or a negative light, in relation to its neighbors within a gallery or other setting. And I also can’t remember a time when my opinion of another artist’s work was affected by the art nearby.

Wall 2

All that said, it’s crucial to acknowledge that Curation (with a capital “C”) is an art-form unto itself. Art doesn’t exist within a vacuum. As I see it, the important job of a curator is to create a sense of organization, context and logic around a grouping of seemingly disparate works within a single setting. Their expertise (and task) is to make it easier to navigate through all the work in such a way that each piece can be more fully appreciated and understood on its own merit. A curator’s skill is in making a show hold together as a unit, while providing room for each work to be seen in its own best light.
And the curators of Hidden Messages did that in spades.

For an interesting and at times humorous look at the idea of curation and how it is evolving, check this out.

There’s still time to go see Hidden Messages for yourself. The show runs until September 5th.
Chandler Center for the Arts
71 N Main St.
Randolph, VT
Hours: Tues – Fri 11am-4pm, Sat 12 -5pm
802-728-9878

Wall 3

*The “Signify” discussion was recorded and a link will be posted on the SDA website in the next weeks. I’ll be sure to let you know once that happens.

Politic (Not Political) Choices

Working on these hybrid garden paintings-with-stitch has given me plenty to think about lately. Not least is how rejuvenating it can be to switch gears and to be firmly planted – no pun intended – in learning-mode for a bit. There are times when I feel I’m burning the candle at both ends by trying to toggle successfully between dyeing, embroidery, drawing (with ink, graphite & colored pencil), and now painting with watercolor. But the larger my grab-bag of processes to choose from, the more flexibility I have. The key is to remember that the most important, though unseen, element is limitation – and to use it judiciously.

Thinking along the same lines of choice, options seem to be opening all around us. This week Vermont became the first state in the country to have passed the 80% vaccination mark, a fact for which we can all be grateful and proud. As Senator Patrick Leahy so aptly noted, our success was due in great part to the bipartisan efforts and cooperation of our state’s leadership.

Politics don’t usually surface in my work, other than in my 2016 post Art as a Responsibility; Art as a Superpower, and my election-centric COVID house “Until The Bitterness Passes”. Overall, I feel I can have more impact by expressing strong opinions directly in letters to Congress, contributing to get-out-the-vote efforts, and never failing to show up on Election Day.

For the most part, art is a refuge for me. I feel I can do the most good for myself and for others by speaking to more intimate, everyday observations rather than using my work as a platform for interpreting or protesting the issues that get under my skin. I have great respect and appreciation for political art but I feel that others are better qualified and more adept in their use of it. And sometimes a quieter statement can have just as much impact for receptive eyes.

Every now and then though something surfaces that registers with both sides of my voice. This month two such projects came to light. The Violet Protest is an avenue you too might consider if, like me, you would like to creatively express your disdain for and frustration with the partisan stagnation in Washington. It offers an opportunity to use your textile skills to contribute (in a very manageable way) to what will be a “colossal visual gesture of friendly protest to every member of the 117th US Congress”. Please read more about the project and its purposeful creative “limitations” here, and be aware that the deadline of August 1, 2021 is coming along quickly!

Another venture in which I was recently invited to participate is the “We Are All Connected Art Project”, spearheaded by Beatricia Sagar. It too speaks to this moment in history. Participants articulate aspects of their COVID experience within the confines of a 3″ puzzle piece. Again, limitations provide possibilities. As individual pieces by diverse artists are joined together, the whole is so much greater than the sum of its parts.

The puzzle piece I received to embellish for the “We Are All Connected Art Project”

✷

Palate cleanser:

Colchester Bat Barn Photo: Ken Picard

After a year of constructing houses balanced on tall legs, it was a treat to happen upon a photo in Seven Days of a monitor barn raised on stilts. In his article in response to a reader’s query of what in the world it might be, Ken Picard supplied the answer: a bat barn. I am totally smitten with it!

✷

And finally, a couple of visual confections for you:

Where The Sun Shines Every Day Pip & Pop

Where The Sun Shines Every Day © 2021 Pip & Pop, Installation: Sugar, modeling clay, polyurethane foam, crystals, gems, glitter, artificial plants, beads, pompoms & various craft materials. Room-size installation 22′ x 26′ x 9’10”

I made my first in-person gallery visit recently to the BCA Gallery in Burlington and it was the perfect “first”! Their current exhibit “Bubblegum Pop“ joyfully captures the uplifting sense of release that accompanies reemerging after so many months of uncertainty and lockdown.

Lastly, Raku Inoue’s floral imaginations will delight and inspire you. Instagram: @reikan_creations

White On White

As I was setting up a folder in my computer to store the images for this post, it hit me that we are already almost halfway through March. This winter seems like it’s flown by. In talking with a friend the other evening, we brushed against the theory that time tends to be perceived as passing much more quickly in the absence of novel experiences. Sound familiar?

With two panels abutted together and the start of the embroidered trees overlapping the shibori “moon”, this is the first glimpse of what is in store for this piece.

In the beginning of the lockdown, with my regular activities out and around the community curtailed, I found it hard to keep track of what day of the week it was. But that has slowly resolved itself as I’ve inadvertently established a new weekly structure within my isolation.

Kasimir Malevich’s White on White from 1918, now housed at the MoMA in New York, appears deceptively simple. Yet close inspection reveals depth and nuance that convey a sense of calm and healing. Reaching back to college Art History, I vividly remember seeing a slide of this piece for the first time, and that my first impression was curiosity.

Until I get the vaccine, my studio routine remains pretty consistent. Every day I try to stitch a bit, draw a bit, with some reading and/or writing sprinkled in for good measure. Yet, despite the outward predictability and repetitiveness, I am astounded that my days never feel tedious. Add to the above the wide range of talks now available via Zoom, and I might even say this has been one of the richest years ever within my practice. Funny, how things work out.

This mid-process image from about a year ago of “The Secrets She Keeps”, shows the piece after the first pass of embroidery and before the resist-dye stage. Without color as a distraction, the beauty of texture and pattern is highlighted, not unlike the rhythms that have developed during these weeks and months of lock-down.

Among the most satisfying perks of weaving all these elements together is that I have time to consider things at a slower pace, so unexpected connections often rise to the surface.

I took this picture of Louise Nevelson’s work at the Farnsworth Museum in Rockland, Maine a year and a half ago. I usually make note of the title and details, but unfortunately neglected to do so – apologies.

Last week I listened to an excellent recorded lecture on the life and career of Louise Nevelson, given by mixed-media artist and former art teacher Linda Finkelstein. It was an illuminating hour (listen to it here), that filled in many details about the acclaimed sculptor from my native state of Maine. Linda’s talk shined a new light on Nevelson’s work for me, to the degree that I’ve been thinking quite a bit about it since.

Linda Finkelstein credited this book, which covers Nevelson’s life and career in great detail, as one of her main resources. Happily, my library had it.

Meanwhile, this week I’ve been embroidering panels with fields of snow on my current piece, “Snow Moon”. As the patterns build up, it’s hard not to get swept up in the visual strength of Texture – with a capital T, exemplified in the white stitches on white silk. While color is a huge influence on much of my work, there is an undeniable attraction to the subtle power of a monochromatic statement, as Nevelson certainly knew.

Is it too much of a stretch to see these weeks and months of remaining largely at home, following a routine that is outwardly much the same from one day to the next, as a time of white on white — ostensibly bland, yet akin to the depth of Nevelson’s sculptures or Malevich’s painting, and as richly textured as a stitched drift of snow? I guess it’s all in how you choose to see things.

❖

Instagram of the Week

Interestingly, when I searched the hashtag “white on white” on Instagram, most of what came up were architectural interiors, wedding cakes and floral arrangements. But then, out of pure coincidence, Liz Sofield’s (@liz.sofield.artist) striking work popped up in my regular feed. Such a lovely expression of white on white!

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.

❖

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.

❖

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.

A Gift Across Time

December tends to get away from me.
I’ve learned to make peace with the fact that studio time will be limited considering all the extras that go hand-in-hand with this particular month. But I still try to squeeze in time around the edges for making art .

On December 1st I began a new little house, wanting to get just one more under my belt before year’s end. I also figured it would be something of an ace up my sleeve for the busy weeks ahead, knowing there would be times when sitting quietly to stitch would get me into a calmer headspace.

Finished dye work

The sticking point with this particular piece has been the open areas where the silk didn’t absorb any dye because it couldn’t seep through the many-layered folds. Without time to do anything but forge ahead, I tried to position the blank areas so as to play off the steep incline of the roof. But that still wasn’t enough – the empty spaces seemed to hang in mid-air like a half-finished sentence.

Even with careful placement, the blank areas were overpowering

Thanks to a dog-walk epiphany after reading an article on Jane Perkins’ art, I decided to dig into a collection of white buttons that has followed me around for the past 35+ years. Their glossy texture and variety of sizes proved a means toward transforming the undyed emptiness into areas that could hold their own against, and in alliance with, the bold shibori patterns. Not unlike a Japanese garden, they provide a rest for the eye that includes an element of visual interest.

A healthy variety to choose from…

When I was first married, my mother gave me a baggie filled with white shirt buttons so that I would never be without when I needed a replacement for one of my husband’s work shirts. It was a sweet gesture and so “of an era”. And even though at the time the idea may have raised my feminist hackles a tiny bit, I recognized it then, and certainly now, as an offering that was a perfect expression of my mother’s hallmark thoughtfulness, practicality, and organizational skills.

And while I didn’t use many of the buttons for their intended purpose, I’ve kept the bag through all our many moves, and have continued to add to it ever since.

Icy Breath of Boreas, alternate view

Not only has this turned out to be a satisfactory solution for making this little piece whole, the process has also contributed to making me feel a bit more whole during a holiday season when for the first time ever, like so many other people, my husband and I can’t be with family. It brings me comfort to work with these little white discs of shell and plastic, to be blanketed in my mother’s thoughtfulness (this will be our 9th Christmas without her), and to think of this piece as a holiday gift she is sharing across time and space.

Icy Breath of Boreas, alternate view

Wishing you a peaceful holiday…

How December’s Patterns are Different, Yet The Same

Now that December has arrived, do you have an end-of-year strategy to close out 2020?
Mine tends to evolve each year, but the general pattern is to devote time over the next weeks to looking back in order to take stock of what worked, what didn’t, and to figure out a game plan for 2021.

I got a leg up on my December tasks due to some unexpected household maintenance last week that led to a deep clean and minor reorganization of my studio. While I do a decent job of keeping up with cleaning chores around our house, my studio is something of a different story. Ironically, it’s where I spend most of my waking hours, yet it’s the one area where I routinely ignore accumulating dust and clutter. However, I’m feeling pretty good about finally reaching the back corners with the vacuum this past weekend and clearing out a bunch of the unnecessary stuff that has been building up. For these few moments I can say: “clear space = clear mind”, but let’s be real — things will go back to normal in no time.

As I begin to revisit the past 11 months, 2020 has counterintuitively been a busy exhibition year in spite of COVID. Happily, that trend hasn’t let up; I will have work in two shows that will span the cusp of the old and new years. That means, in addition to my annual December close-out check list, I am attending to business as usual.

The first of these shows is an online exhibit entitled Wild Things; it can be viewed now on the website of the Cultural Center of Cape Cod (MA). Online exhibitions aren’t new for the CCCC. They proudly claim their international calls for submissions and juried exhibitions as an integral part of their mission to support artists — complementing and extending their physical galleries on the Cape. It is an honor that my octopus piece, “Caught Red-Handed”, was selected to share company with such truly amazing work. If you are an animal lover, you will find this show particularly engaging in its range of media and styles.

Closer to home, I couldn’t be happier that five of my “selfie project” pieces were invited to be included in Unmasked: Artful Responses to the Pandemic. It will be an in-person exhibition, open from January 16 – March 28, 2021 at the Southern Vermont Arts Center in Manchester, VT. It is very gratifying that these drawings are getting out into the wider world since they are such a strong marker of what this past year has been for me.

All of that said, none of this would be possible without the galleries and venues across the country that have forged ahead during this crazy year, finding creative ways to continue bringing art to the public while coping with COVID and its uncertainties. Their constancy stresses the point that things are different, yet the same. In expressing my gratitude on Instagram, I was quite touched by the Cultural Center of Cape Cod’s response: “Without artists we are merely walls”. Those sentiments drill home the truth that we are all in this together… and it surely feels good to be part of the team.

❖

And now for a special treat.
As a coda to this past summer’s Sheltering in Place project at the Highland Center for the Arts, exhibit curator/creator Hasso Ewing, her husband Bob Hannan, and son Seamus Hannan have created and produced a truly wonderful video which conveys the atmospheric magic the exhibit brought to viewers during an uncharted and anxious time. It is quite lovely and unique — please enjoy.

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

❖

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.

One Very Simple Habit That Makes A Huge Difference

In Mason Currey’s book Daily Rituals, one of the commonalities he uncovers is that many artists, past and present, factor(ed) a daily walk in their regular routine.

As hard as it can sometimes be to interrupt what I’m working on to answer Quinn’s insistent mid-day call to get out to stretch our legs, I’m always glad we went. Aside from the obvious: enjoying our beautiful surroundings and witnessing the never-static changes of the seasons, I’ve also found that many of my best ideas, solutions, and conceptual connections have surfaced as I hang onto the back end of the leash. No doubt that’s part of what Currey’s subjects experienced as well.

A knotted field of stitching on top of two layers of shibori patterning. The underlayer is raw silk, the one on top is translucent silk organza (which allows the lower pattern to show through).

In order to add another layer of texture to the piece I’ve been working on this week, while simultaneously suggesting the confining nature of a net (digging back to my Maine roots and lobster traps), I have been attaching short lengths of thread to an underlying foundation of stitches. Perhaps it was just a matter of getting more blood to the brain, but the proverbial lightbulb went on as we made our way up the hill on Tuesday. Beyond being a reference to netting, I recognized the dozens of knots I was tying as a metaphor for my general frame of mind while anxiously waiting for the election’s results.

Shorter threads knotted where the horizontal and vertical lines meet are reminiscent of netting.

Overall, does it really matter to the finished work that I made that connection? Maybe…maybe not, but it does serve to underline the emotional intent of this piece as an expression of this tense point in history.

Moving onward, we have a lot of work ahead of us in this country if we are going to find our way past the divide. As it always has, art will have a role to play in defining the current circumstances and in forging a way forward. However, artist or not, maybe getting out to take a walk is the simplest first step to finding solutions.

Drawing Things Out

I always look forward to Thursdays – especially on blog publishing weeks. I get an extra lift of accomplishment from clicking the “publish” button, knowing it’s another opportunity to connect with all of you, and also that the week ahead will be less about writing and more about making.

I have a system in place that allows me to get these biweekly posts out, making room for the time that blogging requires while still juggling the dyeing, drawing, and stitching that make up the practice I write about.

In a nutshell, I let ideas for writing simmer until the end of the day on the Monday of publishing week, write a draft on Tuesday, polish the draft on Wednesday, and finally make last-minute adjustments before going live sometime during the day on Thursday. Dividing all these components into small chunks allows me to also keep up with whatever else may be in the pipeline, practice-wise. Having such a set schedule may seem restrictive, but it’s become my tried-and-true method for achieving this task, without fail, for almost 6 years.

To underline this approach of manageable, consistent bites, James Clear’s Thursday 3-2-1 Newsletter last week drilled down on the concept. His title says it all: Scaling Down Your Habits, Obstacles, and Finding Time to Do What Matters. And while I have to continually remind myself to keep up with it, time and again I have seen the wisdom of adhering to this theory. Below is one of the key take-aways he offers:

“Go smaller.
Can’t learn an exercise? Reduce the range of motion.
Struggling to grasp a new concept? Break it down.
Failing to stick with a habit? Make it easy.
Master stage one, then advance.”

With all this in mind, I have a new house that is almost complete. There have been lots of unexpected decisions and mid-stream changes that have cropped up along the way. Chipping away at it in small bites has made for steady progress. Come back next time when I will share the process and the results with you.