Category Archives: Exhibitions

Inspiration Time

Travel time is often inspiration time.
With that in mind, mid-coast Maine has a wealth of artistic options to scratch the itch.

How many times have I thought the above? Relatable words on a poster that hangs in Laurel’s Dolce Vita in Thomaston, ME. Stop in for a treat – I highly recommend the Raspberry Puffin – a sugar bomb for sure, but worth every bite!.

As I get back into the saddle after a week’s vacation in my home state, how can I help but share a heaping handful of artworks that caught my eye while away? Created by artists both familiar and new to me, this fresh serving of work will undoubtedly feed my creative hunger in one way or another in the weeks ahead.

Langlais Sculpture Preserve & Art Trail

It doesn’t get much better than experiencing art preservation and land conservation in one package on a beautiful August day in Maine.

Bernard Langlais (1921-1977), native to Maine and a painter turned sculptor, studied art far and wide, including in Norway on a Fulbright grant. After living in New York, he and his wife moved to Cushing, Maine in the mid 1960’s, bought an old summer cottage and began renovating it. The experience of working with wood turned the tide, so to speak, and he soon abandoned painting for abstract wood reliefs and large free-standing sculptures that often pay homage to animals. His work, frequently site-specific, can be found all over the state of Maine.

See more of his work in the Collection of Colby College

©Bernard Langlais

Zoom in to catch the details of this Langlais wall relief.

The half-worked sculptures in Langlais’ studio give hint to how prolific he was. The organized chaos and cocooned rustic feel of this space reminds me a lot of my grandfather’s, then father’s, & now brother’s under-the-house workshop in the almost 100 year-old family cottage on Orr’s Island.

An example of a Langlais painting

Considering how close the Langlais Sculpture Preserve is to the Olson house depicted in “Christina’s World”, it’s no surprise that Langlais made this piece after Andrew Wyeth’s iconic painting.

The home of Alvaro and Christina Olson is now a national historic landmark under the stewardship of the Farnsworth Art Museum. Since we were so close, I had to swing by.

Center for Maine Contemporary Art

A smattering of the exciting work from the current exhibits at the Center for Maine Contemporary Art:

Hilary Irons,”Saint Anthony Abbot & Satan (after the Master of the Osservanza Triptych)” 2022, Oil, acrylic and marble dust on panel.

I had to look up the painting that was the inspiration for this piece after my visit – follow the link above if you’re curious too. The side-by-side comparison is worth it. This work is part of the CMCA exhibit “The View From Here” that has the unifying concept of unique and dynamic ways of looking at the world.
Hilary Iron’s use of color and pattern give the impression of batik fabric. Her reference to the Maine woods and the insertion of what I read as commonly-seen detritus on a Maine forest floor: white pine tassels and assorted tree litter, give this piece a sense of grounding and of place. Saint Anthony and Satan are represented by a dandelion and ghost pipe fungus, respectively – also common to Maine flora, though I’m not sure what, if any, meaning those representations carry.

Lois Dodd, “Sunlight on Spruce at Noon”, 1974, Oil on linen

I have become quite fond of Lois Dodd’s work after initially learning more about her in another Farnsworth exhibit in 2019 and after listening to the nonagenarian talk about her work on a Zoom presentation offered by the Princeton Art Museum last November. This piece is also part of “The View From Here”.

Reggie Burrows Hodges, “Father’s Self-Portrait”, 2017-19, Acrylic and pastel on canvas

The text accompanying Reggie Burrows Hodges work in his exhibit “Hawkeye” references how Hodges merges memory and surveillance in his paintings. I found myself appreciating the formalities of the way he breaks up space, creates depth through color, and (although hard to see in this particular piece) adds dynamism via lines drawn with pastel on top of the paint.

Veronica Perez, “you make me feel”, 2022 artificial hair, bobby pins The name of Perez’s exhibit is “voices, whispering”.

Excerpted from the accompanying literature: “The works are monuments to feelings of love, loss, and grief and are catalysts for exploring the forgotten and stolen histories of the Latinx diaspora. Veronica Perez’s practice is both introspective and community-oriented. Much of the work in this show is built in, and by, communities in Maine through Braiding Circles: artist-organized gatherings that use the act of hair-braiding to discuss identity, experience, and belonging.”

Quilting bees, knitting circles, braiding circles – there is much to be said for and learned from the discussions that arise while sitting within a group and using ones hands. For a timely and local example in which you can participate, look into Eve Jacobs-Carnahan’s Knit Democracy Together, a project that addresses the US electoral system in a series of knitting circles.

Dowling Walsh Gallery

Scott Kelley’s flock of large watercolor paintings of Great Blue Herons reads beautifully from afar and up close. “Test” swatches of paint were included in many of the finished pieces, an unusual and somehow satisfying addition, maybe because they are usually an unseen aspect of watercolor painting. These pieces call to mind the work of traditional Chinese paintings, John James Audubon, and Walton Ford.

Scott Kelley, “Fourth Aucocisco Drawing”, Ink and watercolor on paper, 8-1/4″ x 10-1/2″

Scott Kelley, “Study for Winter”, Watercolor and gouache on paper, 40″ x 30″

Farnsworth Art Museum

I’ve said it before and will say it again, the Farnsworth Art Museum is a gem. If you are ever near Rockland, Maine, be sure to visit.

Ashely Bryan, “Untitled (Laundry in the Garden)”, oil on canvas, Collection of the Ashley Bryan Center

Their current retrospective of Ashley Bryan’s work “Ashley Bryan: Beauty in Return” hinges on Bryan’s belief “If you put art into the world, you will get beauty in return”. A comprehensive display of “the artist’s work from throughout his long career, including paintings, illustrations, puppets and stained glass, the exhibition is a joyful celebration of the enduring power of art and the human spirit over adversity.”
There is so much about this piece that I find exquisite. Exuberant color, pattern and brushstrokes are irresistible. That fact, paired with the elevation of such a commonplace sight as hanging laundry that is holding its own within the landscape, speaks to Bryan’s virtuosity in finding and giving us beauty.

Andrew Wyeth, “By the Light of the Moon, Second Version”, 1987, Watercolor on paper, Collection of the Wyeth Foundation for American Art

When I was young, I was in awe of Andrew Wyeth’s extraordinary ability to portray realism. Now I find myself much more attracted to the abstraction within his work. This piece is a perfect example.

Andrew Wyeth, “Charlie Ervine”, 1937, Tempera on Panel, Collection of the Wyeth Foundation for American Art

This is a striking portrait – not just of a man, but of the house behind him. The weathered clapboards convey as deep a story as Ervine’s craggy features. Studying the painting up close, you can suddenly see subtle passages of color, within seemingly neutral areas, that are absolutely lyrical.

James Browning Wyeth, “Shorty”, 1963 Oil on canvas

Working on portraits of aging subjects as I have been lately, I am entranced by the individual features of this man and Jamie Wyeth’s handling of and reverence for them. Then, pulling back to absorb the piece as a whole, I’m delighted by the contrast between Shorty’s weather-beaten, scruffy appearance ensconced in the sumptuous fabric and luxury of the chair, coupled with the rich color and light of the piece. What a study!

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So many inspiring works, so much to think about. Thanks for hanging in there with me for the tour!

I’ll leave you with a parting shot of iconic Maine

The working harbor off Sprucehead Island, settled for the evening. Notably, there’s not a single pleasure vessel in sight.

Diving In

One of the things I’d like to work on this summer is getting to a point where I feel like I have at least some facility with landscape sketching. It’s kind of a logical thing to do in the warmer months when the temps are more amenable to being outside, but the truth is it’s a discipline I really struggle with and would like to improve.

In general, I’m not that inspired to make landscapes in the traditional sense. I am much more drawn to work with an element of abstraction that flattens space, integrates geometric forms, and allows materials to take center stage.

Winslow Homer, Sleigh Ride c. 1890-95, oil on canvas, The Clark Institute This painting is a wonderful example of the attributes I’d like to emulate.

I want to be able to capture the sense of a location by translating a moment through the various color combinations and shapes that grabbed my attention in the first place. It’s the quick marking of a specific time and place I’m after, not a formal finished artwork.
Plus, I can’t help but think of the possibilities of incorporating stitch…

We recently visited our daughter in Chicago; her condo looks out to Lake Michigan. Having grown up on the coast of Maine, I’m very familiar with the fact that bodies of water change by the minute / hour, so it was a fun exercise to practice capturing a similar view at different times of day.

At the moment my results are hit or miss, but I trust the key for unlocking the code lies in practice. Time to take the plunge.

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“Tucked In: Resilience in Small Moments” made a bit of a splash itself this weekend.

Our artists’ reception was well-attended and it was lovely to be able to share and talk about the work in person. Thank you to Dianne Shullenberger, Leslie Roth and to everyone who came to see our work. And if you haven’t been yet, the show will be up through June 19th at the Emile A. Gruppe Gallery, Jericho, VT. Gallery hours are 10-3 Thursday – Sunday, or call for an appointment: 802.499.3211

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And one final suggestion within this week’s watery theme:

If you’re anywhere near Montpelier before May 29th, make sure to stop in at the Front Gallery to see Hasso Ewing’s exhibit, “inside&out”. Her swimmer figures “explore concepts of inner and outer worlds and the relationship between self and other…”. The show is thoughtful, humorous, and extremely uplifting.

For some context, Hasso was the creator/curator of “the Sheltering-in-Place project” at the Highland Center for the Arts in the summer of 2020. That exhibit was the impetus behind my very first Covid house, “Relative Distance”, and for the 17 houses that then followed as I continued making them to “personify” my observations and emotions during lockdown.

Hasso proved then, as in this current exhibit at the Front, that she is a master at producing immersive, magical environments. In a section toward the back of the gallery, she invites us to enter “a watery inner world that brings the viewer inside to find peace and to escape from that which lies just above the surface”. It’s truly a balm in the midst of our chaotic, overly politicized world. Don’t miss it!

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Last note: If you’re a fan of Wordle — check out Artle!

Finding Resilience Through Art

“The studio is a laboratory, not a factory. An exhibition is the result of your experiments, but the process is never-ending. So an exhibition is not a conclusion.” ~ Chris Ofili

Last week, on my way to deliver my pieces to the Gruppe Gallery for our show “Tucked In”, it felt a bit like moving day. The back of my car was filled to the brim with work made in 2020/21 to mark many sides of Covid as I had experienced them: ten dyed and embroidered houses supported by foraged branches and a dozen framed portraits of friends who’d graciously shared selfies of themselves at a time when getting together socially, let alone for in-person drawing sessions, wasn’t possible.

One view of the exhibit, with Leslie Roth’s “Tick Eater” in the foreground on the left.

More than 15 months ago, Dianne Shullenberger, Leslie Roth and I began to scheme about putting together this exhibit of the work we’d been making since lock-down began. In the face of so much despair dominating the past couple of years, we wanted to offer some good news.

This selection represents half of the portraits I have on view.

A frequent topic of discussion between us had been how grateful we all felt that we’d had our art practices to help us get through this crazy time. It seemed important to share with others that hopeful perspective and the sense of resilience we gleaned from our work. The end product of those discussions is Tucked In: Resilience in Small Moments.

Another view that includes my houses, a couple of portraits, and one grouping of Dianne Shullenberger’s watercolors on the right. These photos don’t get close enough to show the finer details of all the work in the exhibit. I hope you will come to the gallery to take in those nuances in person.

It wasn’t just the fact that going to the studio offered regularity and purpose – although it did and that was huge – but our work also became an outlet providing solace and even something of a protective shield of normalcy against the chaos brewing outside our studios where everything seemed so topsy-turvy and out of control. This show is a feel-good manifestation of how we each, in our own way, found and tapped into pockets of positivity in the face of a global pandemic — through our homes, our gardens, our friends and our wildlife neighbors. The common denominator being our art practices.

And while what you will see at the Gruppe Gallery through June 19th is a culmination of the work of a specific time, it is also an example of how (certainly in my case, by branching out into 3-D work) those months were, as Chris Ofili’s quote references, a time of experimentation. His words remind me that every exhibit is just another mile marker along a path, not the end of a journey.

Please join us for the reception on Sunday, May 15 from 1-3pm if you can.

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I don’t consider myself a birder, but I am definitely a color-lover.
I have been reading The Feather Thief by Kirk Wallace Johnson. It’s part natural history lesson, part true-crime, nestled under the umbrella of the world and art of fishing flies. I keep running to Google to check out alls sorts of unfamiliar birds mentioned in the book.
These spectacular photos, and this link, will give you an idea – as they did me – of what the fuss is all about.

Banded Cotinga

Lovely Cotinga

Spangled Cotinga

Look Into the (Working) Mind of an Artist

First things first:
This week marks the opening of Transitions at Axel’s Gallery in Waterbury, VT. This show explores change – through both material and concept, as seen through the eyes and hands of members of the Vermont chapter of the Surface Design Association. It runs through the end of the month.

Ulysses’ Wave ©2014 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye, paint and embroidery on silk, 19″H x 38″W x 2.25″D. My piece in the show is a meditation on how so often life mimics nature. How we see change coming from a distance, feel we are prepared, but are somehow shocked when it arrives. Strips of raw silk, hand-dyed to gradually transition from bright green to a subdued neutral, abruptly end in blue. Over-dyed patterns, created via stitched-resist and further enhanced with embroidery and paint, reinforce a sense of continuity. They roil and swell, not unlike a massive wave that, despite seeing it coming, still takes your breath away as it crashes into you. Read more about the creation and concept behind this piece, in real time.

I’ll be at the Artist Reception Saturday, April 9th, 4-6pm. Please join us!

Transitions Post Card

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Now for our regularly scheduled programming…
I owe a debt of gratitude to the friend who mentioned last month that she was reading Walter Isaacson’s biography of Leonardo da Vinci. When the book first came out in 2017, I made a mental note to add it to my TBR list in anticipation of the time when demand at the library would calm down. But of course I forgot. Thanks to her recent reminder, I finally followed through.

It was a fascinating read.
While no one would ever question Leonardo’s genius, Isaacson uncovers just how far-reaching and fascinating his mind truly was as he balanced art with science. One reviewer of the book alluded to how fans of traditional biographies might take issue with the heavy emphasis on art history, Renaissance Italy and Isaacson’s focus on painting and other artistic techniques over a dissection of Leonardo’s personal life. But that criticism never occurred to me; I think the author had the proportion of one to the other exactly right.

It’s true, this book concentrates more on Leonardo’s creativity and his work than on the finer details of his personality. But even so, Isaacson includes more than enough information about Leonardo as an individual to give one a healthy sense of him as a person, what was important to him and how his personality affected his outlook and, in turn, his work.

A page from Leonardo’s notebooks, with illustrations and notations about the embryology of the human fetus.

In the final chapter, the reader is offered a compilation list of 20 “lessons” encapsulating Leonardo’s unparalleled creativity, with the suggestion that they are skills we too can access. I’m paraphrasing several below which struck me as particularly worth passing on.

Be relentlessly curious
Go down rabbit holes – drill down for the pure joy of geeking-out.
Procrastinate (gather facts and let them simmer) – creativity requires time for ideas to marinate and for intuitions to gel
Collaborate. Innovation is a team sport; creativity is a collaborative endeavor
Take notes on paper. Leonardo’s notebooks are still around to astonish us

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It is a huge bonus that Isaacson’s biography contains plenty of accompanying illustrations of Leonardo’s drawings, paintings and pages from his notebooks — all of which provide a fuller glimpse into the way he kept track of and teased out ideas. With that in mind, if you’re able, please make a trip to the Highland Center for the Arts in Greensboro to catch their current exhibition: Frank Woods Minor Works.

Three self-portraits ©Frank Woods

The appellation of “minor” is somewhat misleading; there is nothing minor about Frank’s work. I was thrilled and inspired to see an exhibit of working drawings and sketches that, while perhaps initially created as a platform upon which larger work would be built, have much to say in their own right. It’s always a privilege to get a feeling for an artist’s process and to have a bit of access into how s/he works through ideas. Having such a window into an artist’s mind – especially one whose work I respect as much as Frank’s – or Leonardo’s for that matter – is a gift indeed.

This image of developmental sketches, next to the final piece that evolved from them, shows my personal approach to working drawings. I, too, maintain a notebook/sketchbook to keep track of fleeting ideas as they occur to me and to record notes from all sorts of sources: meetings, reading, workshops, etc. It’s helpful to have everything in one place and I definitely prefer analog to digital. FYI: I’m a big fan of Dingbats Eco-Friendly Notebooks ; there are a variety of options available. Snow Moon, ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk with foraged branches, 18.5″H x 9″W x 7.5″D, Private Collection. Photo: Paul Rogers Photography

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Last, but not least – apologies for the repeat blog delivery a week ago. I definitely don’t want to gum up your inbox. Without straying too far into TMI territory, let’s just say MailChimp automatic delivery has been something of a challenge lately.

As I write this, my fingers are crossed that the issue is now fixed. But I won’t know for sure until after this post’s scheduled delivery time (Friday @ 4:00am ET). Meanwhile, your patience is and has been greatly appreciated.

Face Value

Not to be too overly dramatic, but I long ago reached the point during this pandemic where any in-person human interaction has become the highlight of my week. Over these past couple of years I’ve come to appreciate my trips to the post office, the library and the grocery store in ways I never would have thought possible.

Dignity ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Ink on paper, 11 x 8.5 inches My hardcover Daler-Rowney Classic sketchbook takes ink and pencil equally well. The 8.5 x 11 size is big enough to stretch out upon without feeling unwieldy. It’s a trusty workhorse.

So I’m not exaggerating when I say it was absolutely wonderful this past Saturday to attend the Artist Social at Studio Place Arts for the Face It exhibition. Plenty of (masked) people turned out and it was so fun, not only to chat with folks I haven’t seen other than on Zoom since last summer, but to even meet a few people for the first time as well. The lift I got from it has lasted all week.
On top of that, the previous Monday I attended my first life drawing session since March of 2020. Things are definitely looking up!

In chatting with the executive director of SPA when I dropped off my work for the show, she mentioned how she felt the time had definitely come for an exhibit of portraits. She went on to say that she’d chosen the subject selfishly because she knew that working in the midst of them would be both comforting and normalizing.

It was a brilliant idea and, frankly, her reasoning is largely why I continue to draw, paint and stitch faces. Even though I often don’t know my subject, I still get a sense of human connection from studying and trying to execute something as personal and unique as facial features. Taking the time to really see someone else is something we’ve all missed, and I hope we won’t take the ability to do so for granted once the masks finally come off.

Face It closes on March 5th. Check out the Seven Days review to whet your appetite for a visit before the show ends.

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Speaking of connection – are you familiar with the word “pareidolia”?
It’s the formal term for the tendency to perceive shapes or an image out of randomness, such as seeing something in a cloud formation.

Lisette ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and graphite on paper, 12 x 9 inches I started experimenting with Strathmore Toned Mixed Media paper last year. It’s been a whole different learning curve to begin with a background that is medium-toned, rather than stark white. It comes in 3 colors – this is the tan. With a vellum surface that is akin to hot-press, it allows for erasures without damage. It is heavy enough that it doesn’t need to be stretched and doesn’t buckle from layers of washes – at least with the amount of water I use. It’s acid free and 30% post-consumer fiber; again, a good workhorse and convenient for traveling out of the studio. It’s what I brought with me to life drawing last week.

This brief article refers to it specifically as seeing faces in everyday objects, tagging the occurrence as an instinctual evolutionary hold-over geared toward protecting us from danger. I don’t know about that; I’ve always thought the images I tend to notice had more to do with my imagination compensating for boring moments.

But lately I seem to conjure more faces (as opposed to other images), which I attribute to all the portrait work I’ve been doing, figuring that I’ve become more finely attuned to the physical characteristics of the human face. Evolutionary phenomenon or not, it makes life a bit more interesting, don’t you think?

Work in Progress ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk Slowly but surely this piece is coming along. This week has been all about working with the hair. It needs more color, so I still have a way to go – plus, I haven’t even started with her shoulders. I’m having a bit of a love-hate affair with the background pattern & color. In the long run I think it will elevate the piece, but it has surely made the process more challenging.

White-on-White

It felt great this past week to get back to my embroidery frame and to begin a new stitched portrait. I had been casting around in the studio wondering who or what would be my next subject when, as so often happens, the answer appeared out of nowhere.

I start each piece by drawing the image directly on the silk. For those of you who are interested in such things, this is by far the best water soluble pen I have ever used. Other brands tend to dry out very quickly, but this one is going strong after almost a year. Part of this may be because the top snaps on quite tightly.

In an email from one of the many art organizations that regularly add to my inbox, I stumbled upon one artist’s brilliant observation in response to a general request for favorite art business lessons from 2021: what you create is “just the beginning”. On the surface that sounds so basic it’s almost silly, but when you stop to think about it, it’s pure gold.

This past week I have been making my way through the initial stage of the process: stitching the image with white silk thread on un-dyed raw silk. I tend to keep adding guidelines with the erasable pen as I go along. They act as a directional guide for the stitches, helping me to better describe the form I’m trying to represent.

She went on to clarify what a game-changer it was to realize that each piece she makes isn’t necessarily a one-off, merely to be archived, but rather just the first step in a continuum that builds upon itself.

In other words, pretty much everything we make creates a foothold for something else that will come later. In this instance, it was like a lightening bolt to realize that my quest for a subject was right here in my studio. I have a stack of pre-covid life drawings to pull from for this and maybe other portraits.

A variation in stitches distinguishes the hair from the facial features.

Whether sourcing drawings in my sketchbook, a particular stitch or dyeing technique used in the past, or some novel approach to layering various media together, every piece I make contributes something to my “toolbox” that I can reference in the future.

With the blue ink removed, the piece becomes a study in textures. The sheen of the silk thread is an important element that allows those textures to stand out. The next step will be to overlap the image with a dyed pattern. Come back in 2 weeks to see the progression.

The bottom line is none of the work we make exists in isolation, in fact, we just keep adding to our limitless creative bank accounts. And the beauty of that fact is they are always available to draw from when needed.

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Opening this week at Studio Place Arts: A world of portraits by 30 different artists, including yours truly.

Face It
January 26 – March 5, 2022
Studio Place Arts
201 N. Main Street
Barre, VT 05641

Gallery Hours: Wed – Fri: 11:30am – 5pm, Sat:11:30am – 4pm
Art Social: Saturday, February 19, 3:30 – 5pm (masks required) …..Hope to see you there!

Small Plates

To me, the half the fun of tapas – or a pre-Covid cocktail party with lots of different appetizers – is the variety of small plates one can sample. Most weeks, my time in the studio mirrors that approach – a little bit of this and a little bit of that filling up the hours. In that spirit, here are a few so-called “tastes” of what’s been swimming in my head these past couple of weeks.

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First, my big news is that the Fall Issue of the Surface Design Journal is now out. Every autumn SDA publishes an International Exhibition in Print. This year’s show, “From Confrontation to Catharsis,” feels both relatable and personal. The diverse scope of work exhibited addresses many of the overwhelming challenges of 2020. As I read each artist’s statement, the word that often comes to mind is “fragile”. So much of the work is a commentary on fragility: of our systems, our planet, our connections, our history, and even our human-ness.

SDA Journal Page

However, in viewing the show, one can’t help but also be reminded that there is empowerment and strength in expression, and as such there is an underlying sense of hope that resides with these works.
I am gratified and honored that “Until the Bitterness Passes”, one of my shibori houses from last year, was selected to be included.

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It’s Inktober!
While I haven’t followed every prompt set out this year, I have enjoyed interpreting of a handful of them. Here are just a few.

Another perk of the project is it’s great for filling up those last few straggling pages in one’s sketchbooks.

I have 4 different colors of ink on hand and Inktober has been an opportunity to experiment with them — supplementing with a tiny bit of watercolor when a different color is needed.

It also gave me an excuse to go ahead and purchase my new favorite under-$10 art supply (does one really need an excuse to buy art supplies?): a porcelain petal palette. It’s a great tool for mixing numerous values of ink all at once.

Porcelain Petal Palette

Oh, and speaking of cheap supplies, check out my new water jug! It’s a creamer that I found and snapped up this summer for just this purpose – also less than $10. The spout is brilliant for wiping the extra water off one’s brush before dipping it back into the ink. Now I wish that I’d also gotten the creamer from the black set since I usually have two water containers going at once, one for dirty and one for (relatively) clean water.

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Meanwhile, I’ve been puzzling my way through the shibori/embroidered “letter from home” I showed you last time. Surprisingly, the mussel shell was a snap to realize, but figuring out what to do with the envelope has been an unexpected challenge (lots of stitches sewn and then picked out). Next post I’ll write more about my discoveries and process along the way, but in the meantime I have some experimenting to do in order to figure out how to approach the dyed pattern in relation to the central shape – as well as what overall finished size/shape to use.

©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk, approx. 12 x 16 inches I think I’m going frame this one like this. Allowing the area without pattern to show provides a much needed sense of balance to the piece as a whole.

Framing will be part of that consideration. Unlike in this piece, which I dove into without finished dimensions in mind, I need to plan ahead so I don’t back myself into a corner.

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I get a lot out of James Cleary’s 3-2-1 Newsletter; it’s a short and sweet shot in the arm each Thursday. The list below was particularly resonate. Maybe for you too?

How to Build a Career in 7 Steps:
1. Do great work
2. Share it publicly
3. Cold email people 2 steps ahead of you
4. Talk about your work and trade ideas
5. Host events and meet in-person
6. Become friends
7. Rise together

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I get just as much of a lift from the beauty of my garden in fall as I do in spring and summer. While the colors are a bit more nuanced, they’re just as striking. Did you happen to read the NYTimes article “Take a Walk in the Garden Before It’s Too Late“?

With that in mind, my Instagram recommendation this time is @pottersarms, whose images of flowers, often in various states of decay, are quite lovely and somehow momentous.

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And finally, to bring you full circle, the next time you’re in Asheville, NC consider a meal at Cúrate – a tapas bar that will satisfy any yen for delicious variety.

Letters From Home

Among the many highlights of our trip to Maine last month was a visit to the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens in Boothbay. It’s a wonderful place, whether you’re a plant enthusiast or not.

Thomas Dambo’s larger-than-life trolls, dubbed The Guardians of the Seeds, pushed this year’s visit into the realm of the magical. If you’re headed in that general direction, they are definitely worth a detour!

Aside from enjoying the change of scene that comes with any vacation, I find being in a new environment has a tendency to shake fresh ideas loose, allowing them to rise to the surface. This trip was no exception. I had a bit of a forehead smacking moment when I realized that the iconic house shape I’ve been using over the past year is the same as an open envelope’s silhouette. Talk about a lightbulb moment! It looks like my work for the fall is now laid out for me.

House / Envelope

Many things represent my idea of where I grew up, and in combining some of them with the merged house/open envelope shape, I’m imagining the possibilities of a series of “Letters from Home”.

What better way to kick off the series than with a mussel shell, one of the more common sights on any rocky Maine beach? They served as foraged butter dishes for our lobster picnics, and I have collected more than my fair share of them over the years because of their purple-y color.

Working with those deep blues and purples has been pure pleasure this week; colors that vibrate against the red and orange of this shibori-dyed shape – originally intended as a house, now both house and envelope. What began as an experiment for carrying a symbol forward, now feels a bit like kismet, pushing the idea of home in a very personal way.

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Update:
I mentioned at the end of August that I’d let you know once the recording of the artists talk “Signify: A Conversation About Meaning and Technique” (a Zoom discussion I participated in surrounding this summer’s exhibition Hidden Messages: Old and New) was available for viewing. As promised, here is the link. I’ll warn you, it’s an hour long – so grab your beverage of choice. I think you’ll find the conversation interesting, down to earth, and in good humor.

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.

Flying the Coop

It was beyond wonderful to spend the past week in Berkeley and Chicago, and most importantly, to finally be with our kids for the first time in 18 months. Knowing we would be in two very art-friendly cities with re-opened museums, you can be sure I did my research ahead of time to see what might be on exhibit. Whether by pure coincidence or cosmic reward (I’ll go with the latter) our trip overlapped with four shows that seemed tailor-made for this art-seeking traveler. Kay Sekimachi “Geometries” and Rosie Lee Tompkins “A Retrospective” were on view at the Berkeley Art Museum Pacific Film Archive (BAMPFA). And then at the Art Institute of Chicago, we saw the remarkable Obama Portraits, along with “Bisa Butler: Portraits”.

As you might well guess, this will be one of those posts that is mostly images…enjoy the ride.

Kay Sekimachi: “Geometries”

From the wall text of the exhibition:
“Kay Sekimachi’s work is an integral part of the story of art and fiber. Along with other mid-twentieth-century artists, she transformed fiber from a material confined to industry and craft to one capable of expanding the categories of modern and contemporary art. For several decades this Berkeley-based artist has made experimental works with linear pliable elements that unite art and craft, economy and intricacy, and Japanese and American artistic traditions.”

Takarabako VII ©1999, Kay Sekimachi, Linen, acrylic paint & boning After a winter of making box-like houses, Sekimachi’s work struck me more deeply than it might have otherwise. According to wordhippo.com, Takarabako means “treasure chest” or “strong box”.

First recognized in the 1960s for her woven monofilament sculptures, Sekimachi is also known for her intricate baskets and bowls.

This small piece (about 12 x 12 inches) was one of a series of works made in homage to Paul Klee and Agnes Martin using linen, dye and indelible ink. The subtle nuances of color are lovely.

This vessel is made of kiri wood paper, a one or two-sided paper-backed veneer that is manufactured from the paulownia tree, called kiri in Japan. It is a fast-growing hardwood with light, fine-grained wood typically used for chests and boxes.

Rosie Lee Tompkins: “A Retrospective”

Born in 1936 in a small Arkansas farming community, Rosie Lee Tompkins learned to make quilts from her mother when she was a young girl, but did not begin making them professionally until the 1970s. Her work floored me for its strong sense of color and design. The frequent use of velvet added richness and depth without detracting from the sheer joy many of these pieces projected. The expanse of the museum’s walls gave each piece the room it needed to fully come into itself, while also allowing for a celebration of each quilt’s delightfully irregular perimeter.

All works were “Untitled”

This was by far my favorite for its joyful elegance.

Orange

What drew me across the room to this pair was Tompkin’s striking use of denim to express value.

Multi colored Tompkins

Although there weren’t details about specific pieces, the wall text gave clues to Tompkins’ overall approach, noting her later wall hangings are meditations on self, family and spirituality. Several works contain “yo-yos”, the number of which often corresponded to a personally significant number, like an age or relative’s birth month. One couldn’t help but notice that this piece was entirely black, almost shroud-like in appearance, as compared to the riot of color in all the other works.

The Obama Portraits

On a five-stop tour to museums across the country, from their permanent home at the National Portrait Gallery, Kehinde Wiley’s and Amy Sherald’s portraits of Barack and Michelle Obama are spectacular. They will travel from Chicago to Brooklyn, Los Angeles, Atlanta and Houston – so make a note if you’ll be in or near any of those cities.

I was struck by the diversity of people viewing these portraits, many emotionally moved or just plain giddy to be in their presence. You can download the free Art Institute app for an introduction to The Obama Portraits with commentary from artists Kehinde Wiley and Amy Sherald and curator Jordan Carter.

In addition to the portraits, other artwork related to the Obamas was also on view. Two that caught my eye were Jordan Casteel’s painting Barack, painted to accompany a 2020 interview with the former president in The Atlantic, and Alma Thomas’s A Red Display of Fall Leaves. The Obamas were the first White House residents to collect the work of an African American woman artist – Thomas’s Resurrection hung prominently in the Old Family Dining Room, and two more of her works were installed in the family’s private living area.

A Red Display of Fall Leaves ©1972 Alma Thomas This piece was made when Thomas was 81 – the same year she became the first African American woman to receive a solo exhibition at the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York

Bisa Butler: Portraits

One of the biggest perks of the pandemic was being able to attend Zoom artist talks that I never would have had access to before everything went virtual. Last March I listened to Bisa Butler give the 2021 Ruth Ketterer Harris Lecture at The Center for Design and Material Culture, University of Wisconsin-Madison. You can listen to it too. What a gift that the talk introduced me to Butler’s work, planting the seed to see this exhibition.

Anaya with Oranges, detail This shot gives a better idea of the detail work. Loved that a single sheer fabric with flowers was used to depict her hair.

If you made it this far, thank you — I hope you enjoyed these works as much as I did. And please let me know what exhibits you’ve caught now that we can venture out once again.