Category Archives: Exhibitions

Montreal Melange

The closest “big city” to central Vermont is Montreal which, at only 2-1/4 hours away, is a virtual stone’s-throw and perfect for a get-away. We spent a couple of days and nights there earlier this month taking in some delicious meals, live jazz and plenty of fresh visual inspiration.

de Fil et De Papier signage

Most exciting was a visit to the current exhibition at MUMAQ – The Musée des Métiers d’Art du Québec (Québec Museum of Crafts). De Fin et De Papier (Thread and Paper) is an invitational show, curated by paper artist Marie-José Gustave; it includes the work of 8 artists, as well as her own.

One of the things I most appreciated about the museum itself is that everything is accessible and easy to see, often from several angles. And unlike the permanent collection, the work in De Fin et De Papier is not behind glass so it can be viewed closely enough to study the processes and workmanship of each delightful piece in minute detail.

Lâcher Prise, detail, Nithikul Nimkulrat. So wonderful to recognize the macrame knots we used to use to make plant hangers a million years ago reappearing to such beautiful effect in Nimkulrat’s etherial dresses

Ann Boscher’s work was by far my favorite in the show. I haven’t ever seen stitching on paper used to such effect…wonderful!

If you go, be sure to allow time to take in the permanent collection as well. There are wonderful examples of work made by numerous generations of Québequois fine craft and folk artists – in glass, ceramic, silver, wood-carving, textiles and more.

The museum building was formerly a new-Gothic church that had been dismantled stone by stone and then rebuilt at its current location when the land it originally sat upon was expropriated by the Canadian National Railway to make way for a new station. The building and collection together are a virtual treasure box.

We also visited the Montreal Botanical Garden. I realize it’s a bit ironic leaving rural Vermont, heading to the city and then spending a chunk of time wandering through gardens, but that’s who we are. In fact, because we covered so much ground across town this trip, I became more cognizant of how much care the city planners of Montreal have put into being sure to incorporate green space throughout their city.

If you’ve been before you’ll know the Botanical Garden is a stunner. But what struck me most this visit, despite the flagging fall blooms, was the thoughtful and diverse color combinations that are still vibrant. It would be lovely to spend an afternoon with a sketchbook making notes of the unexpected color blends for future reference.

Finally, Montreal is rich with public art.
Intrigued before our trip by reading about the Canadian Centre for Architecture Sculpture Garden, (designed by Montreal artist-architect Melvin Charney), I was anxious to see and walk among the (relatively) miniature buildings raised on columns. Surrounded by a lovely green space, the sculpture section of the park is compact and doesn’t take much time view.

Melvin Charney

The lasting impression is a lovely sense of harmony between its elevated art structures, sitting in a conversation of sorts with the neighboring high-rises. One doesn’t feel a giant amongst these small buildings, but because of them, nor does one feel dwarfed by the height of nearby towers.

Melvin Charney, Canadian Centre for Architecture Sculpture Garden

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I just watched “Grab a Hunk of Lightening“, a terrific documentary about photographer Dorothea Lange, via the Architecture + Design film series. It was a one-day event, but you can stream the film through Amazon, Apple TV or Google Play Movies for $2.99. For those who aren’t familiar with much of Lange’s work beyond her photographs of migrant workers during the depression, you are in for a treat.

Field Trip

Vermont is in the midst of a roll of warm, sunny days.
And while we appear to be flirting with fall because daylight hours are getting noticeably shorter and the foliage is turning quickly, the past couple of weeks have felt decidedly more summer-like. Time for a field trip!

K. Grant Fine Art, 37 Green St., Vergenne, VT 802.922.4399 kgrantfineart.com

Last week we ventured to the other side of the Green Mountains, destined for Vergennes, to check out “Soft Openings“, the inaugural show at K. Grant Fine Art which opened its doors in August.

With abundant natural light pouring in the front widow, the gallery feels at once both intimate and spacious – a credit both to the nature of the building that houses it and gallerist/owner Kristen Grant’s curatorial chops. I was charmed.

Three irrepressible ceramic floral sculptures by Norwich artist Megan Bogonovich; she characterizes her work as a lovechild of Pierre Bonnard and Tony Smith. Bogonovich was featured on This is Colossal last May.

A painting by Cameron Davis’ that pulses with life, flanked by Pamela Fraser’s ceramic sculptures which are presented and exist as moveable pairs.

Paying a visit was spurred by Alice Dodge’s glowing review in 7 Days which gives a rounded depiction of the five exhibiting artists, their work, and of Grant herself. The article was enough of a teaser to pull me in and I found the show to be as vibrant as promised. In fact, I’m not sure there’s much I can add to Dodge’s assessment other than a few photos.

Pattern is the undercurrent that runs through all the work in “Soft Openings”. Rooted in nature, the energetically improvised paintings by Arista Alanis offer a sense of organization through her inclusion of pattern.

Pamela Fraser’s spiked ceramic piece is an apt counterpoint to Wylie Garcia’s spiraling floral bower.

Even though I had my favorites among the exhibitors, I walked away feeling that each artist’s voice confidently held its own in conversation with its exhibition mates, remaining distinct as an individual entity. That’s no small accomplishment in a group show.
“Soft Openings” closes on September 28th so there’s still a little more than a week to catch it if you can.

Left to right: Megan Bogonovich, Pamela Fraser, Wylie Garcia

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Despite the warmth and sun, I have Fall on the mind. The daily changes in color and texture surrounding us are filtering into my sketchbooks as well as my latest painting, detail above, which is still unfinished on the board and remains to be stitched. I’ve been approaching it in a measured way – not necessarily slowly, but with deliberation – working to pull all the elements together and think ahead to how stitching will complete its circle.

Garden Brain

“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”
― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

We’re back from nine days visiting family in CA & HI, and as I look over my photos, notes and sketches from the trip I can see that, subconsciously or not, plants and gardens took center stage. Part of that has to be because once the snow melts and May arrives, we all become a bit garden-obsessed due to Vermont’s short growing season.

The lush arboreal view of many colors, outside our aerie-like airbnb window in Berkeley

Our local hardiness zone is 5 (up from 4, due to climate change). But in Berkeley, CA it’s 10a, and Kailua, HI is an even more exotic 12b. Needless to say, the flora in both locales was a welcome sight and inspiration for winter-weary Northeastern eyes.

Here’s a bit of plant kingdom goodness I brought back to share with you:

The colors, shapes and textures at The Dry Garden on Shattuck Ave in Oakland were swoon-worthy

They also had a selection of hand-made tiles that, but for the fact that I was limited to carry-on, one or two would have found their way home with me. Apologies to the artist for not getting a name to credit.

I follow @gollyokate on Instagram because I love her perspective on embroidery, libraries and her quirky discoveries on walks through her Oakland, CA neighborhood. What a delight to feel I was stepping into her world (albeit up the street a bit) while rambling one morning, enjoying the street-side gardens in Berkeley. This one’s for you Kate!

And just a bit later, the sun came out over a different viewpoint. Such color inspiration — look at those incredible purple spikes, offset by the gold of the grass – all framing an azure sky over Tomales Bay.

The sculpture garden of Oahu’s Capitol Modern (formerly the Hawai’i State Art Museum) is a quiet retreat in the heart of Honolulu. This museum exhibits the work of contemporary Hawaiian artists both inside and outside the building. Considering the theme of this post, I’ll stick with its courtyard sculpture display.

Gaea (Mother Earth), detail, Bumpei Akaji, 1984, Copper Many of the pieces not only sat in the garden, but referenced nature as well. The curves of Akaji’s piece frame a view to the central lawn area.

The smooth, hard surfaces and rounded forms of pieces like Gaea, above, and Ceramic Tree, below, create an apt counterpoint for their organic setting.

Ceramic Tree, Toshiko Takaezu, 1990 Handbuilt ceramic, This work was inspired by trees that had been damaged by lava on the Big Island.

However, it was the humor of “Mr. Chickenpants” and the dogs of “Jax Bench” which stole my heart.

Mr. Chickenpants, May Izumi, 2018, Bronze

Mr. Chickenpants

Jax Bench, Fred Roster, 1990, Bronze

The Honolulu Museum of Art’s treasures reflect the rich multi-cultural make-up of the islands. Its architectural design, including lush open-to-the-sky interior courtyards and restaurant garden, are an ever-present reminder of the connection between art and nature.

Bark Cloth-Style Aloha Shirt, Tori Richard, 1960 Our visit coincided with “Fashioning Aloha”, an exhibit of aloha wear from the 1930s onward. This shirt was inspired by the traditional Polynesian practice and geometric designs of Pacific tapa (bark cloth), a non-woven textile made by pounding the inner bark of the paper mulberry tree into sheets, then decorated with designs.

Spring to Summer, Kanō Kōi, Edo period (1615-1668), Ink, color and gold on paper

This lovely pair of six-panel screens were created by Japanese artist Kanō Kōi (died 1636) who produced paintings for elite samurai at a time when they were seeking to revive the courtly grace and refinement of the Heian period (794-1185). It’s hard for me to think of anything more refined than a Japanese garden.

Late Summer to Autumn, Kanō Kōi, Edo period (1615-1668), Ink, color and gold on paper

While not technically garden-oriented, I can’t help but include this amazing piece by Noah Harders, made from fruits of the sea.

Looks Can Be Deceiving, Noah Harder, 2022, Ola, Hawaiian Spiny Lobster. Harders makes intricate sculptural masks and headdresses from found or gifted organic materials, reflecting his deep ties to the environment of Maui.

Looks Can Be Deceiving, detail

Finally, my artist mother-in-law has a wonderful art library and she never fails to introduce me to exciting global creators of all stripes. This visit it was the work of the Brazilian landscape architect Roberto Burle Marx (1909-1994) who was known as a modern nature artist and public urban space designer. Lots of inspiration for our humble garden here at home.

Roberto Burle Marx book

While it rained every day of our Hawaiian visit, it didn’t dampen our spirits since we used to live in Kailua and have logged our share of sunny days there. And the upside was the inclement weather allowed more time for museums, art supply stores and sketching.

I had a nice little studio set-up to work from most days.

We finally made it to the beach one day for a walk. It was grey and cloudy so the palette I used was definitely different from what I’d expected, but no worries, I still had exactly what I needed.

The little sketchbook I made beforehand worked out beautifully. It offered plenty of space for drawing and notes (24 “pages”, using both sides), yet it folded down to fit compactly in my small travel purse. I will definitely make another for next time.

Sketchbook

And now it’s back to my own patch of earth to tend and nurture. Here’s to a wonderful garden season ahead for all of us.

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On another note:
One link leads to another….can’t remember how I ended up here, but thought you too might enjoy this article about sitting for Alice Neel in Katy Hessel’s Substack The Great Women Artists.

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

Unexpected Treats

Isn’t it often the case that what you weren’t planning is what ends up being the most memorable of any excursion?

Dress and Portrait of Mrs. Charles E. Inches: Sargent

Evening Dress, Unidentified Maker, American, Silk velvet with silk plain weave lining. Worn by Mrs. Charles E. Inches (Louise Pomeroy) in her portrait, painted by John Singer Sargent, 1887

Last week we made a speedy trip to Boston to see “Fashioned By Sargent” at the MFA before it closes on the 15th. Even with timed entry on a weekday, it was very crowded and tough to dodge the many other viewers in order to truly see the paintings or read the gallery notes.

“Beetle Wing Dress” for Lady Macbeth, designed by Alice Laura Comyns Carr and Ada Cort Nettleship, 1888. Cotton, silk, lace, beetle-wing cases, glass, and metal.

Happily, the highlight turned out to be seeing some of the real-life dresses displayed near each of the portraits in which they appear, lending a better understanding of how Sargent rendered textures and draping. For anyone who sews, getting a close-up look at the detailed workmanship and needle skills of 19th and early 20th century clothing made waiting for the crowd to thin around each display case worthwhile.

Back view of Lady Macbeth Dress, Cloak

John Singer Sargent, Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth, 1889. Oil on canvas.

Comparatively, the rest of the museum felt enjoyably spacious and it was a treat to explore many of the other exhibits on view. There were three I can’t stop thinking about: Matthew Wong: The Realm of Appearances, Dinorá Justice: The Lay of the Land, and Toshiko Takaezu: Shaping Abstraction.

In hindsight, the Sargent exhibit landed like a heaping serving of eye-candy, whereas the Wong, Justice and Takaezu works were more main course fare. Interestingly, all three maintain their strong individual voices while unabashedly nodding toward and weaving in influences from art of the past and of their contemporaries. I walked out with a lot to digest.

Matthew Wong, Once Upon a Time in the West 2018 Gouache on paper. Wong gleaned inspiration from many sources, including films. This piece takes its title from Sergio Leone’s 1968 film of the same name.

Dinorá Justice, Portrait 36, after Manet’s “Olympia,” 2023 Oil and acrylic on canvas. Justice’s work references well-known paintings by 16th-19th century men which feature and objectify reclining women. Her point is to reorient the historical masculine gaze, empowering her figures by connecting them with their femininity and their environment through the decorative textile patterns and colors of her Brazilian heritage.

Toshiko Takaezu, Euphrosyne (Joy), 2000 Stoneware. Rather than painting on canvas, Takaezu employed full-body glazed brushwork on her large-scale ceramic pieces, keeping her in step with her abstract expressionist contemporaries.

The overarching connection I found between the three of them (and what I most enjoyed about their disparate work), was the mainstay of pattern. Cacophonous? Yes. Tranquil? Also yes. Satisfying? Definitely.

I think it’s natural to find a sort of pure, visceral joy in pattern. I’m sure it has something to do with survival, but leaving evolutionary science out of it, I googled “what makes patterns so attractive to humans?”. The answer was that we are drawn to patterns because they help us make sense of the world around us, satisfying our brain’s need to find order in chaos. Reading further about each of these artists, it’s not a huge leap to think that perhaps that definition describes a large part of what each of them may well have been/are seeking.

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One last unexpected treat the MFA had in store:
During the pandemic, I followed Eben Haines’ Shelter In Place Gallery on Instagram. Maybe you did too?

Eben Haines, Shelter in Place Gallery, 2020 Foamcore, mat board, acrylic and latex paint, balsa wood, redwood, plexiglass, adhesive backed vinyl, adhesive backed polyvinyl and aluminum

It was such a lovely thing to see at the time — ongoing exhibitions of artists’ “Large scale” work, placed and photographed in his miniature space, giving the impression of a full-scale gallery show at a time when no one could venture beyond their homes. It was a wonderful troupe d’œil illusion.
Coming across Haines’ miniature gallery, in the flesh, on view in the “Tiny Treasures” exhibit of miniatures last week, felt like running into an old friend.

Eben Haines Shelter in Place Gallery

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And finally,

A peek at the chaos that is my workspace this week. More on what’s cooking next time.

Stick Season

I love Stick Season.

It’s prized by locals as the sweet period between fall and winter when pretty much everybody from away, stays away. But I’m more fond of it as the landscape’s last hurrah before the snow arrives.

It’s not as showy as September and October, but the russets, golds and olives of November have their own richness, especially when backed by a crisp blue sky or the drama of heavy purple-grey clouds.

Once again we become reacquainted with the structure of the trees that had been hidden by leaves since Spring. Lingering apples and the garnet red fruit in a stand of sumac brighten barren, grey branches like premature holiday ornaments.

In the early evening, the sometimes subtle, sometimes shocking gradations of a sunset’s colors can be viewed through the dark lines and silhouettes of leafless sentinels, often accented with an early star.

And before we know it, snow covers the mountains and a new season begins. Such is the beauty of Vermont.

Side Note: Can’t write about this subject without referencing Noah Kahan’s hit Stick Season, from the album of the same name

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For those of you who celebrate, I wish you a very Merry Christmas. And for those who don’t, may the weeks ahead be a period of cozy respite and peace.
As ever, thank you for joining me here.

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It’s that time of year and we’re all feeling it. Take a break from the holiday flurry; there are still two more weeks to visit Who Are We? Pieces of the Identity Puzzle at the Satellite Gallery in Lyndonville, VT. (Scroll down the page of the above link for more photos and information).

Capturing the Essence of Time

Last week I visited the Julian Scott Memorial Gallery just in time to see Ken Leslie’s retrospective before it closed. It was a delight.

South Wall of Ken Leslie’s Retrospective, Julian Scott Memorial Gallery, Vermont State University, Johnson Campus

I have long been smitten with Leslie’s folded watercolor paintings that mark time through place and feature light and darkness as leading players. While standing and rotating on a singular spot, he portrays a location as a circle segmented into 24 sections, each describing an hour within a full day.

Ken Leslie, Uummannaq Equinox Cycle (detail), artist’s book, watercolor and colored pencil on folded paper, 2020, 1 page every hour for 24 hours. Created with support of Tuullik Art Center, Uummannak, Greenland

The progression captures both the mystery and the steadfast quality of the sun’s daily path.
In one sense, these works could be interpreted as an analogy for life itself, speaking to the nature of change: incremental, transformative and constant.

Depictions of Leslie’s home in Hardwick, as well as the eternal days and nights of Greenland and Iceland, meditate on the essence of the passage of time within the context of a single day.

Ken Leslie, Akureyri Winter Cycle artist’s book, watercolor and colored pencil on folded paper 2011/2012, 1 page every hour for 24 hours. Created with support of the Gilfélagið, Akureyri, Iceland

Equally stunning was a wall filled with one year’s Sky Journal and another year’s Night Journal — painted and conjoined views of morning and evening skies.

Ken Leslie, Sky Journal, 1998/1999, Watercolor on folded paper

A celestial log of sorts, these visual recordings are uncomplicated by forms other than clouds, the moon, and stars, revealing the unique quality of every day and every night.

Ken Leslie, Night Journal, 2009/2010, Watercolor on folded paper

Yet seen as a whole, there is a rhythmic, repetitious beauty that conveys a sense of comfortable cohesiveness despite the differences.

Ken Leslie, Sky Journal (left), Night Journal (right)

As the years speed up on us, don’t we all long for a way to slow down our days and to mark individual moments so that they aren’t all merged into a blur? Isn’t that one of the reasons people keep diaries?

Ken Leslie, Upernavik Summer Cycle artist’s book, watercolor and colored pencil on folded paper, 2014, 1 page every hour for 24 hours. Created with support of the Upernavik Art Museum, Upernavik, Greenland

How enlightening and apt these works are, depicting change melded into a circular whole rather than appearing in a linear succession with a beginning and an end. And how uplifting to witness and to be immersed in the sense of renewal this format suggests.

And on a different note:

Are you familiar with the Architecture + Design Film Series?

“The essence of design lies in its profound ability to affect how we think about and experience the world.”

You can attend Season 11, which occurs once a month from September 2023 through April 2024, for free in person in Burlington and Brattleboro, or watch virtual screenings online via the A+D homepage.
Here is a complete listing of screenings, dates, and information. The next event is Wednesday, December 13th.

Happy Thanksgiving!

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.

Revisiting Philly

There’s nothing quite like a wedding to put a shine on the world. We’re just back from Philadelphia where family togetherness, perfect weather and a healthy dose of art made for a very special long weekend.

Blick Art Haul

First stop: Blick.
In my world, a trip to Blick is a major highlight during any city visit. With my very patient husband and daughter in tow, I made a beeline there to stock up. There’s no match for wandering the aisles and fingering the goods in person, and it was nice to have a few new things to try out in the hotel room between planned activities.

Nevermind the Phillies, Eagles, 76ers, & Flyers, IMHO one of Philly’s best claims to fame is that it’s home to one of the largest public art collections in the country. When we lived in Bucks County, 30 miles north of the city, life was too busy with raising kids to dive into the Philadelphia art scene as deeply as we might have – but what a pleasure to have a chance to enjoy it now.

Contrafuerte ©Miguel Antonio Horn Read more about this sculpture, seen in the Cuthbert Street alley as we left Reading Terminal Market.

The city’s 63 year old Percent for Art Ordinance mandates that any new City construction or major renovation project must include site-specific public art worth one percent of the total budget. So if you don’t have time to visit one of Philadelphia’s numerous stellar museums on your next trip, rest assured you’ll get an eyeful merely walking or driving from place to place.

Gratefully, this visit there was also time to check out a couple of museums.
The Philadelphia Museum of Art is currently showing The Artist’s Mother: Whistler & Philadelphia, a fortuitous discovery considering my current direction.

In addition to Whistler’s cornerstone painting, “Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1” (don’t miss this fun NPR piece about it), it was a treat to see other masters’ approach to portraying elder women. The emotional element between artist and sitter adds a bonus layer to each work.
If you’ve never seen Whistler’s painting in person, you should. She has the loveliest rosy cheeks and, much like the Mona Lisa, appears so much warmer than any reproduction seems able to convey.

And to cap it all off, my sister-in-law arranged for a fantastic docent-led tour for interested wedding guests at The Barnes Foundation the day of the big event. Founder Albert C. Barnes was a bit of an odd duck, as is evidenced by the way he insisted his collection be displayed into perpetuity. But there is no denying that the collection is spectacular, and it’s interesting to take into consideration his aims and perspective as you wander through the galleries. There were plenty of stunning portraits to absorb among the many other treasures.

And on a slightly different note, I was grateful for the chance to revisit this small watercolor by Charles Demuth – a painting that has remained a favorite in memory from my last visit to The Foundation over a decade ago.

And now, home again and back to work putting those new supplies to use!

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So many wonderful things to read – it’s hard to keep up.
Two of my latest favorites on Substack speak to two things that take up a lot of real estate in my mind and schedule most days: art and recipes. If you’re of like mind, take a look at Amy Allen’s Palate & Palette: Stories about people who make great art and food and Vicki Smith’s Easel to Table: Turning food into still life first and dinner second

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.

✷

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.

Elizabeth Fram

Eye of the Needle