Category Archives: Exhibitions

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.

Master Masks

One of the joys of living where we do is being surrounded by woodland neighbors. For the most part they are shy, so we only hear them or see evidence of their presence. It’s a lucky day when we actually catch a fleeting glimpse of one of them going about their business.

4:37 AM, 05.05.2021 My husband has a game camera that he moves from place to place in our woods. In the wee hours of an early May morning a couple of years ago, he captured video of a bear, fox, raccoon, fisher cat and porcupine, all making their rounds at different times during the same night. We loved that they all chose to cross one of his bridges, rather than keeping their feet on the ground. Owls and pileated woodpeckers are less quiet and less elusive, but no less thrilling to see.

It was hard not to think of the animals who share their homes with us while visiting master carver Dempsey Bob’s retrospective “Wolves”, at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts. The beauty and skill of his work is beyond spectacular. His poetic use of line interweaves forms with deceptive simplicity, conveying both depth of character and a seamless alliance between the conjoined animals.

Wolf Chief’s Hat © about 1993, Dempsey Bob, Red cedar, acrylic paint, operculum shell, horsehair, leather, ermine. Collection of Eric Savics

Eagle Chief’s Robe © about 1992, Designed by Dempsey Bob; Made by Linda Bob, Melton cloth, leather, abalone shell buttons, acrylic paint, deer hooves. Collection of Eric Savics. I couldn’t resist including this textile collaboration Bob created with his sister.

Each wooden surface is burnished to the sleekness of glass, its smoothness amplified by the textural attributes of the other natural materials he incorporates.

Wolf Eagle Frontlet © 1996 Dempsey Bob, Alder, acrylic paint, abalone shell, sea lion whiskers. Collection of Eric Savics. From the exhibit label: “Dempsey Bob has said, “I am a Wolf because my mother was a Wolf. …And her mother was a Wolf. … We get our clans and our traditional names, and also our songs, from our mother’s side of the family.”

Mosquito Mask © 1989 Dempsey Bob, Alder, acrylic paint, sea lion whiskers. Collection of Rod and Kira Dales. From the exhibit label: Deftly carved out of alder wood, one of Dempsey Bob’s most elegant and expressive works, Mosquito Mask exalts the lowliest form of pestilence in high style. The acutely concentrated features of the warrior figure below are dissected by the elongated beak of the mosquito above. Both faces are from a dream world and embellished with sea lion whiskers. “The warrior defended his village by slaying a fearsome monster, chopping his body up and burning it,” says Bob, adding, “The floating cinders became the stinging nuisance we know today.”

Eagle Transformation Mask As one moves around to the left of the above mask, a transformation appears.

Wolf, Frog, Bear, Eagle, Hawk, Raven, Shark, Killer Whale, Salmon and Beaver are all central characters in the cultural stories Bob’s pieces relay. The incorporation of sea lion whiskers, fur, hair, abalone and operculum shells — gifts from the animals themselves — add to the stunning beauty of these pieces while underscoring the native stories they reference.

As a viewer, I couldn’t help but feel reverence — for the work as well as for the creatures depicted. Intentional or not, Dempsey Bob’s art is a reminder of the essential role all creatures play in our collective histories and futures, and of the respect we owe them.

For more depth, this hour-long interview is filled with humor and history. Plus, in a segment that particularly resonated with me, Bob talks about the importance of drawing as a foundation for seeing and for making any type of art. To my mind, that’s the secret that says it all.

Can’t make the exhibit? There is a catalogue.

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…And considering my ongoing series, the cherry on top was this mask.

Old Woman Mask ©1974 Dempsey Bob, Alder, moose antler, copper, abalone shell, human hair, moose hide. Private Collection. From the exhibit label: Dempsey Bob’s teacher Freda Diesing was known for her remarkable Old Woman masks, which he paid homage to in this early work. The labret in the woman’s lower lip designates her high rank.

First steps on my next…

Summer Sampling

5-6 months out of the year our yard looks like some version of this.

Winter

So is it any wonder that when June rolls around, I can’t get enough of it looking like this?!

June 1

I am drunk with color these days.

June 2

It’s been a fun exercise this week to create color mixes that mimic what’s in bloom right now. This type of sampling helps me to understand color more generally, and my chosen palette more specifically.

June Colors 1

For those who, pardon the pun, like to get into the weeds of such things, I was a bit surprised at how many colors I used: 27 separate colors in making 28 samples of flowers, leaves and paving stones. To some degree, that feels very over the top and, considering 8 of those colors were only used in one color mix, there is definitely room to fine-tune if I were so inclined.

June Colors 2

Overall though, most of the colors I used got a pretty good workout, recurring in many of the mixes – most of which were made up of two and very occasionally three paints. The exception was the paving stones. They all required various combinations of three primaries to achieve their neutral tones.

These colors are the backbone of my mixes. The biggest surprise for me is how versatile (and “popular”) the Cobalt Blue Deep turned out to be.

I find it really handy to have color-mix samples like this for reference, so I keep a book full of them that I refer to regularly. I try to make time when I buy a new paint color to play around with it to see how it interacts old favorites.

Without question, if you live in Northern New England life is better if you actually enjoy the subtle hues of late November into deepest winter. But let’s face it, it’ll be nice to return to these samples when the garden is asleep again, as a reminder of the eye-popping abundance of June.

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Since we’re talking color… Have you been to the Vermont Arts Council Sculpture Garden in Montpelier to see the collaborative installation Elements of Shelter: Water, Fire, Wood, Earth, Metal? Spearheaded by Thea Alvin and Meg Reinhold, it’s a beautiful meditation on two of Vermont’s most immediate challenges: climate change and the housing crisis. The combination of paint with glass is particularly effective; the work absolutely glows in the sunshine. Plus, the craftsmanship of the pieces, including their timber frames, is gorgeous.
Read further about the installation and its creators in Seven Days. You can follow more of the creation process on Instagram: @theasunshine and @trilliumhandcrafts

Keeping Track

The Museum of Craft and Design in San Francisco is currently exhibiting 100 of Anne Hicks Siberell’s Concrete Journals. A bookmaker and writer, Siberell has been a visual diarist for decades. Initially inspired by the permanence of ancient clay cuneiform tablets, she has made several hundred collaged “entries” marking personal and world events by embedding collected ephemera within concrete that she then carves and paints once it has dried.

Too bad the show isn’t a little more convenient to see in person, but in lieu of that, don’t miss Siberell’s website for examples of her journal tablets and other work.

The urge to keep a record, to act as witness within our own lives and of the world at large, is ubiquitously human. For the reader/viewer of these works, experiencing the intimacy of another’s story is a gift. The first time I realized the empathic enormity to be gained from learning about someone else’s day-to-day was in middle school, reading Anne Frank’s diary. It was an important lesson at a time in life when one is largely self-absorbed.
May Sarton’s Journal of a Solitude had a tremendous impact on me in college and, as noted in a post from May 2020, resonated just as strongly soon after the pandemic confined us. Meanwhile, I have just begun Anne Truitt’s Day Book and look forward to the lessons she too will have for me.

John ©2023 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and colored pencil in a 12 x 9 Fabriano Venezia sketchbook. Our life drawing group has revived! So lovely to spend several hours on Monday painting directly from a model in the company of others.

Thinking along these lines, I can’t tell you how many written journals I have begun and deserted over the years. My inability to follow through has always made me a bit sad. But after looking at Siberell’s work and learning of the appellation “visual diarist”, I realized that I have been keeping a diary of sorts all along.

A sneak peak at my current work in progress. Oh – that blue! This model has such knowing eyes, which may well figure into the title. The gloppy yellow hair strands are masking fluid which I’ll remove eventually, but for the moment it keeps those areas safe from paint.

A trip back through my “catalogue” of work so far: pastel paintings, art quilts, textile collages, drawings, sketchbooks, and current stitched portraits and house & garden pieces, is just as much an ongoing record of personal events and experiences as that of any formal written diary. And then there is this blog, which I have maintained faithfully and regularly for the past 8-1/2 years.
So it looks like I have indeed been keeping track after all. To underline the point, note the title of this post from May, 2020, also linked above. How very reassuring to know that everything hasn’t just evaporated with the years.

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And to leave you with a smile….artist friend and animal lover Leslie Roth shared a follow-up to my last post that you won’t want to miss : Vermeer’s newly discovered dog portraits. Be sure to note the date of the article!

Gone to the Dogs

Usually, an idea for each upcoming blog post surfaces well before I begin writing. But this week I’ve been at a loss. After a number of false starts, I was sitting here at my computer wondering what in the world to write when I started to tune into the soft and steady breathing from under my desk.

Under the Desk

And simple as that, this post was born. Quinn’s gentle snoring nudged me into remembering a recent article about a new exhibition that has just opened at the Wallace Collection in London, “Portraits of Dogs: From Gainsborough to Hockney” .

Amos, 1976 by Andy Warhol ©Andy Warhol

My chances of getting to see the show in person are slim. So in lieu of heading to the UK, I pulled out a couple of books that center on dogs in art and had a bit of an at-home exhibition of my own.

The Book of Dog, by Angus Hyland & Kendra Wilson

The first, The Book of Dog, is a compendium of varied works spanning centuries, curated with a contemporary eye. The other, We Think the World of You is a series of sensitive pencil drawings enhanced with minimal washes of color by David Remfry. Although quite spare, his pieces convey the depth of the unique bond between individual dogs and owners.

All Curled Up ©2023 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and graphite on paper, 5.5″H x 5″W I couldn’t resist painting my own trusty studio assistant, with a heathy dose of gratitude to her for helping me figure out what to write this week. For more examples of her tolerant modeling, check out the Ruby, Lola & Quinn section of my website.

In snooping around a bit more online to see what else I could learn about the Wallace Collection show, I came across this searing review. Honestly, it is so outspokenly negative it made me chuckle. As they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

This photo is from an invitation to an exhibition at the Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen in Rottredam, 1995.

A dog portrait may not be to everyone’s taste, but for those who are of like mind, here’s to our beloved canine pals – in art and in general. And an added three cheers for the sweet sense of connection that comes in knowing that such greats as Leonardo da Vinci, Andy Warhol and David Hockney also found inspiration in portraying their pets. In Hockney’s case, the portraits of his dachshunds even offered an avenue toward moving through grief after the death of a close friend.
From a more workaday perspective though, I’ll bet each famous master (pun intended) welcomed the break that painting a pooch provided from the demands of finicky human patrons.

Museum Hopping

I haven’t visited enough exhibitions since the first of the year, but last weekend was a start to getting back on the right track. If you are looking to stir the creative juices, here are two suggestions — one online and one local.

First, the Shelburne Museum doesn’t open again until May 13th, but don’t let that deter you. They have an impressive and diverse line-up of online exhibitions to bridge the gap until then. Each intriguing in its own right, I’m slowly making my way through them all. But Action Figures: Objects in Motion is the one that first caught my eye…such a treat!

Shepard Hardware Company Jonah and the Whale Shelburne Art Museum

Shepard Hardware Company (Buffalo, New York, ca. 1882–92), Jonah and the Whale Mechanical Bank, ca. 1890 Painted metal, Collection of Shelburne Museum

Secondly, an in-person trip to the Vermont Ski & Snowboard Museum in Stowe may not be the first place that comes to mind when looking to get an art fix, but go and be surprised. Scott Lenhardt’s art for Burton snowboards is fantastic! What I loved most was being able to see more than just the finished product. The compilation of sketches, saved margin notes on designs in process, and overviews of the overall progression from rough idea to finished painting is catnip for anyone interested in behind-the-scenes particulars. Lenhardt’s work is full of wonderful details and raw imagination, and the sheer volume of his output is, well, awe-inspiring. To round out the exhibition, don’t miss Pamela Polston’s article about Lenhardt in Seven Days.

Sketch for ’04 Powers ©2003 Scott Lenhardt, Ink on paper I took very few photos at the Lenhardt show because I got so caught up in the work. But this ink drawing is a good example of what I’m referring to when I say his art is full of wonderful details and raw imagination.

Meanwhile, there’s a lot going on behind the scenes here in the studio. I held a flash sale for my collectors on Valentine’s Day that went well enough that it’s likely I’ll repeat it next year. Maybe by then you’ll be on that e-mail list too! Anyway, with that goal under my belt I’m now juggling between pieces in progress, the nuts and bolts of getting finished work ready to exhibit, and preparing for a couple of upcoming studio visits.

This shows the early stages of a new piece. It’s destined for paint soon, but there’s something about the white-on-stitching that makes me want to explore it further as an end unto itself. This is not a new line of thinking for me, as you can read here and here. There are always more rabbit holes to follow.

Part of my to-do list this week has included framing “Eroded Boundaries” and “Caged Again” for the upcoming show Beacon of Light, which is due to open on March 15th at Studio Place Arts. More about that as we get closer to the show’s opening.
In the meantime, I’m tickled that “House on Fire” was selected for the exhibition SHE, at the online art gallery Art Fluent. You can view that show in its entirety here.

That’s all for now; back to work.

Art As Alchemy

It might be said that January represents change more than any other month.
For many, each new year opens the door to a fresh start – whether through newly forged resolutions or the hope of leaving the old year’s troubles behind. Either way, what better metaphor for the idea of transformation than the amaryllis?*

Signs of January’s hope & renewal: a new flower bud and baby bulbs growing from the sides of the mother plant.

I have accumulated more than a dozen of these plants and they remind me of the power of change every January. After a full year of watering and feeding, transporting them outside for the summer and then back inside to a cool, dark basement pantry for a 10-week autumn rest, my amaryllises have returned to our living room window sills.

The transformations that take place as a piece develops is like magic; it becomes addicting as one pushes forward. I try to take photos at various stages of each piece to track my progress. As you can see, not always in the best light at the end of a day.

With additional layers, the image begins to materialize.

Assisted by the lowered arc of December’s sun and our cozy evening fires, they’ve re-acclimated and are a glorious foil to January’s short, dark days, adding light and color where there might otherwise be gloom.

This piece began with the thought of incorporating a house shape (see previous pic) But as things moved along, I realized I had already gone too far for what I had in mind for this particular work, so the idea was nixed.

The outside garden may be snoozing soundly under a blanket of snow, but the transformation of these bulbs from papery and leafless lumps to vibrantly green and blooming is something of a winter miracle. Even though their flowers are short-lived, they are certainly worth all the tending and waiting.

Considering this painting’s overall tones are relatively muted, the accompanying stitch colors needed to be hushed as well. Pulling out hues from the portrait subtlety marries it with the background without overpowering either the image or the textural quality of the stitching.

With that thought in mind, I invite you to also think about the alchemy that is produced within an artist’s studio. By this, I’m not only referring to how raw materials are transformed into something new, but also, perhaps more importantly, to how those creations can fundamentally alter a viewer’s perceptions and foster communication. Yvahn Martin’s brief article “The Transformative Power of Art” discusses art’s communicative potential to enable and generate change in various positive ways – politically, socially and personally.

Still Waters ©2023 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor, graphite and stitching on paper, 11 x 8.5 inches I am settling into these portraits of older women with acknowledgment of and reverence for the paths they have laid out before us. This piece, in its relative subtlety, is a reminder that we all have stories that we may choose not to share. But those deep-seated histories still lie beneath the surface.

This week marks the opening of Transformation: Material, Environment, Us, a selection of artwork by the Vermont Members of the Surface Design Association, currently on view at Studio Place Arts in Barre, from January 25 – March 4, 2023. The exhibit meditates on the fundamental idea of change. I hope you’ll find time to visit and to consider not just how change is represented by each artist, but how their works may affect change in you.

Blooming

If you go, it’s a ‘three-fer’: 3 exhibits on 3 levels. See the info below for details.

*By typing “amaryllis” in the search bar to your right, you’ll see how these beautiful plants have made their way into my sketchbooks and this blog, year after year.

That Time Again

A sneak peak at what I’m currently working on…

If you’ve followed this blog for any length of time, you know that sooner or later a book post is bound to roll around again. I love reading (obviously) or just living for a while in the world of pictures. But I also get a charge out of discussing books, listening to podcasts about them, learning more about the author’s backstory, what s/he had in mind when writing, and ultimately sharing the titles of those I just can’t keep to myself.

So for this first post of 2023, here are three books I received this Christmas that I hope might brighten your new year as much as they are brightening mine.

David Hockney A Yorkshire Sketchbook

No words, only pictures. A sweet little book of the English countryside through the eyes of one of my favorite artists. It touches on a few of the art-y things that get my pulse revved up: loose watercolor work, organic pattern, and the geometry of divided space.

Inhabiting the Negative Space, Jenny Odell

What a fabulous jumping-off point this book is for approaching the new year! Very short and to the point, it was Odell’s 2020 virtual commencement address to the Harvard Graduate School of Design. Within its pages she pushes back against our current tendency toward incessant productivity, looking instead to periods of inactivity as vitally important for generating ideas. Frankly, I needed a reminder that time spent in reflection and contemplation is valuable, and that mind-space is a necessary ingredient for sowing the seeds of insight and is crucial to creative work.

Drawing for Illustration, Martin Salisbury

Suggested by illustrator Lucia Leyfield (another book recommender!) in her newsletter, this reference book is wise, informative, and discusses aspects of drawing that I find so enjoyable. Very inspirational.

And, because I can’t resist: my latest happy discovery is artist Sandi Hester. Her irrepressibly joyful personality spills into her informative Youtube art videos and her work. The world is so darn serious these days — she just makes me smile for so many reasons.
Below is a video where she talks about her favorite art books. We share some overlaps, but I also learned about a handful of new-to-me artists. Maybe you will too.

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Finally, for those of you near enough to make the trek, I’ll be part of the upcoming exhibition “Transformations: Material Environment, Us”, which opens at Studio Place Arts Third Floor Gallery on January 25th.

Join us for the Artist Social on Saturday January 28 from 3:30-5pm. Please also note that on Friday, February 3rd at noon there will be a panel discussion moderated by Leslie Roth with 3 of the participating artists: Jane Quimby, Heather Ritchie and Dianne Shullenberger.
Hope to see you at either or both events!

The work isn’t over once the brush and needle are set down. Framing is just another step in the process and I think this floating approach is a good way to go with these stitched paintings. This piece, “House on Fire”, will be part of the upcoming “Transformations” exhibit.

Step-By-Step

The snow is back!! — meaning both productive studio time and the bonus of excellent natural light.
As far as my latest post-Roe piece goes, all experiments have been set aside and I’m jumping in with both feet. Here’s a step-by-step guide to the process so far. There are still some ideas to pull together.

First, the figures and letters are laid out.

Next, a layer of masking fluid was added to protect some of the lettering from paint, while other letters are partially stitched.

Everyone is always curious about the back side. This shows areas that have been completed, along with pre-poked holes that are ready for stitches.

With the first layer of stitching complete, the individual portraits begin. The cotton thread that I’m using absorbs the paint but, as the brush flows over them, the raised stitches also tend to repel paint on the paper next to them. This adds an unexpected but welcome visual element to the textural effect.

With the 2nd portrait finished, things are beginning to materialize.

As I work on these I’ve begun to notice an interesting pattern. About halfway through each face, I reach a point where it seems as though the image is failing miserably. But I’m learning that it’s a lack of definition rather than a series of missteps. Not being shy about adding details and forceful darks gets things back on track.

I expect to finish the paintings in the next day or two, and then will tackle the 2nd layer of stitching. Stay tuned for my next post, or keep an eye on my Instagram account, to see how things pan out.

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It’s that time of year.
Studio Place Arts in Barre has just opened its holiday show “Celebrate!” (follow this link for a sneak peek) exhibiting the work of more than 70 member artists. I encourage you to come take a look and to get a leap on your artful holiday shopping. It’s a great way to support both local artists and a vibrant community art center.
I am exhibiting 3 wall pieces and 3 of my Sheltering-in-Place house sculptures.

Exhibit dates are November 9 – December 28, 2022
Maybe I’ll see you at the Art Social this weekend: Saturday, November 19 from 4:30 – 6pm! Many other artists will be there too, as well as a cello performance by Michael Close.
Masks are required.

The Third Leg

One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned from faithfully maintaining this blog over the past 8 years is how key writing has become to my practice. I often think of it, along with drawing and stitching, as the third leg of my artistic stool.

Layers of color, and the happy accidents that occur as those colors mix, contribute to what I find most intriguing about watercolor. Stitching over those passages is a big risk.

I’ve learned that writing opens the door to unconscious ideas, ushering them to the surface. It’s something of a secret weapon which quite often not only directs my next steps, but also helps to crystallize a better understanding and articulation of whatever I am working on in the studio at the time.

But if done carefully and consciously, stitching adds a dimensional component that enhances the paint.

This phenomenon proved true once again while working on my quarterly newsletter late last month (have you subscribed yet?). In writing a description of my gravitation toward painting images of elder women, something came to mind.

The point of adding stitches is texture – both visual and physical. Stitching also provides another means for creating definition within the image, such as the left side of the house shape, as seen below.

I had already incorporated the suggestion of a house form surrounding the head of the subject in the early stages of outlining the composition of this piece, but as I wrote, the idea of protecting one’s personal boundaries (home) came to mind — specifically in relation to the fight of older generations of women for equal rights and for control of our own reproductive choices.

It wasn’t too big a stretch to draw a line between that feminist history and the idea that the overturn of Roe v Wade this past June is akin to burning down someone else’s house.
The result is “House on Fire”.

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Among many other wonderful things, September/October means the return of Art at the Kent, the annual exhibition at the Kent Museum in Calais. Always fabulous, endlessly inspirational and a testament to the wealth of brilliant artists that call the Green Mountain State home, it’s a must-see event in a setting that is uniquely Vermont.
I’ve written about it’s magic before.

The Wayward Bench © George Sawyer paired with Mud Season 9 Patch #11 © Rosalind Daniels Just one stunning example of the eclectic pairings on view in “Interplay” at the Kent Museum

This year Art at the Kent presents “Interplay” from September 9 – October 9. Don’t miss it!