Category Archives: Exhibitions

“Composing Form”

This seems to be an unusually good summer for local exhibitions. So many, in fact, that I’ve had to schedule them into my calendar to be sure I don’t miss out. Last week I went up to the Helen Day Art Center in Stowe to see Composing Form (June 22 – Aug 24), an inspirational group show of contemporary, mostly figurative, ceramics.

Vernal ©Sergei Isupov, 2016, Porcelain, slip, glaze, 17.5 x 9 x 8 inches Isupov’s portfolio is quite impressive. Be sure to read about his Fire Sculpture

Cabeza IV ©Christina Córdova, 2018, Ceramic, 17 x 11 x 5.5 inches

I have a soft spot for clay. My first real 9-5 job was as a potter’s apprentice one summer. I had great dreams of the pots I would make and of how my knowledge of ceramics would grow. While I can’t say I didn’t learn from the job, my take-aways weren’t at all what I had expected. The reality was my biceps grew more than my throwing skills — from wedging a tremendous amount of clay for others to throw, and from lugging 40-pound bags of it to those other potters’ cars.

Question of Honor / Lucretia (After Lucas Cranach the Elder) Teapot ©Kadri Pärnamets, 2015, Porcelain, slip, glaze, 11 x 10.5 x 5 inches

Linea ©Tara Thacker, 2019, Porcelain on canvas, 56 x 14 inches

I stopped working with clay mid-way through college, but my romance with the medium still lingers. A hand-building class was my refuge almost a decade ago while our builders completed the protracted process of finishing our house after we had moved in. I have two clay dog sculptures purchased to mark the times between the loss of one family pooch and the welcoming of another, a not-so-subconscious effort to find canine comfort during those lonely days. And one of my favorite ‘always close at hand in the studio’ books to flip through when I hit a wall or need a break while working is 500 Animals in Clay: Contemporary Expressions of the Animal Form.

The Knight of the Lions ©Robin Best, 2016, Porcelain, on-glaze Xin Cai, 14.1 x 7.9 x 10.25 inches

Horsepower, detail ©Sergei Isupov, 2009, Stoneware, 32 x 19 x 17 inches

The varied pieces in Composing Forms create an imposing sense of presence in the gallery. If you go, be sure to pay attention to how shadows contribute to that force. The work is exquisitely detailed with underlying nuances of mystery, paired with acute observations. Perhaps more than any other quality, it will come as no surprise that I was particularly attracted to the incorporation of drawing/painting into the pieces by Sergei Isupov, Kari Pärnamets, Sin Ying Ho, and Robin Best.

Background, L: Horsepower ©Sergei Isupov, 2009, Stoneware R: Bullseye ©Sergei Isupov, 2009, Stoneware, Front: Shift ©Jerilyn Virden, 2019, Handbuilt earthenware, Hollow construction, Glazed and sanded, 8 x 22 x 12 inches

We are so fortunate to have these artists’ work to enjoy for the summer. Don’t miss out.

Engaging With The Ancestors

I’ve been thinking lately about how summer should be a time that follows a different rhythm. If not slower, then it should at least be restorative — a chance to enjoy the extra daylight hours and the delight of walking out the door unfettered by the extra layers we have to cope with much of the rest of the year (not counting, of course, the long sleeves and netted hood I’ve been wearing in the garden as defense against this year’s burgeoning black fly population). Beyond that, and perhaps more importantly, summer should be a time to keep computer work to a minimum, which is what this post is really about.

The beginnings of a new piece, all tied, knotted, and ready to dye

With that in mind, bear with me as I sort through things over the next weeks. The blog and I will still be here each Friday, but I am going to try to write less — an effort to free myself from the laborious editing and polishing that consume so much time. Hopefully that will lead to gaining more hours for the actual stitching and drawing I write about. It will be a way to cut myself some much-needed slack while still sharing what’s going on behind the scenes in my studio, what’s on my mind, and the various miscellanea I run into that I think will interest and, hopefully, inspire you.

As you can see compared to the seam ripper, this is a small piece – the fabric is only 15 x 15 inches. Even so, it took me almost 3 hours to sew and knot the threads. The dye process, however, only took a mere 20 minutes.

I look forward to, and encourage, your continuing comments and emails when something you see here resonates with you. And please let me know how you switch gears to allow for extra elbow room during the summer months – I welcome new ideas.

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Apologies to those of you who are also on my general art mailing list; this will be something of a repeat…

Carefully snipping the knots and removing the threads is sticky and laborious business, taking another hour to accomplish. But the thrill of revealing the pattern makes it all worth it.

I was really happy to receive a link this week to the museum-produced trailer for the 2019 Rijswijk Textile Biennial. It has made me all the more excited to go see the show in person this fall. I’m also looking forward to seeing the illustrated catalog of the show, written by Frank van der Ploeg.

Searching the web, I was gratified to find that Textile Forum blog has written about the exhibit, using one of my images, among others, to illustrate the article. Notice of the show was also picked up by TextileCurator.com

The experiment this time was to break the frame down into smaller sections – a pattern within a pattern, so to speak. Also, I wanted to try this arched shape, rather than keeping all lines straight and square.

For those of you who remember Textile Forum as a print magazine, publication was halted at the end of 2013. Since then the former publisher, Beatrijs Sterk, has continued to “report on themes of textile creation, education and textile cultural heritage via (the) blog, addressing all those interested in textile culture”.

If you are looking for in further avenues to learn about the world of textile art, Textile Forum blog, TextileCurator.com , and Textile Is More! are all sites that look to be fruitful resources. Another site I would love to be able to read is Textiel Plus, but unfortunately it appears to only be published in Dutch.

The finished size of this piece will be about 10 x 10 inches. While it’s interesting to see how the dye interacts with the outer edges of the pattern, I prefer cropping the pattern with clean edges along the perimeter, the way they will appear once the finished piece is stretched and framed.

One final resource is The Woven Road – another site learned about through Instagram. What caught my eye was a quote that was attributed to The Woven Road, and which seems a suitable sentiment to sign off with.

“When we engage in fiber arts, we are creating something, but we’re also participating in historic traditions tens of thousands of years old. You are not only making art for your soul and for future generations, you are embodying the work of our ancestors.”

Norway, Part 2

Time and exposure have taught me that the biggest gap in my art education relates to international art and artists beyond the expected European and Asian classics. A couple of years ago I was amazed when visiting the AGO Museum in Toronto at how many iconic Canadian artists I’d never heard of. That’s just not right. Therefore, one of the real joys of travel has become the opportunity to learn more about some of the major artists within the country I’m visiting.

Edvard Munch, Flirting in the Park, 1942, Oil on Canvas How many other paintings by Munch can you call to mind besides The Scream? Most of what we read about Munch concerns his obsession with psychological themes, but after seeing so many of his paintings, my lasting impression of his work is that he was an admirable colorist.

As promised, this week I’m going to take you off the streets of Norway and into the Munch and Kode Museums of Oslo and Bergen for a more formal view of Norwegian art. My picks tend to reflect the various concepts that were floating in the back of my mind at the time, due in large part to my questions and concerns regarding the piece I hadn’t quite finished before leaving for vacation.

Edvard Munch, Lucien Dedichen and Jappe Nilssen, 1925, Oil on canvas Talk about making color sing! The magenta underlayer of Dedichen’s blue suit, paired with the bright orange book cover and other objects on the table, in combination with the strong turquoise that defines the walls and corners of the room, elevate this painting of the physician Dedichen and writer/art critic Nilssen to an exhilarating degree.

There is plenty of ground to cover, so put your feet up and I will do my best to pull together the images that follow with the threads of what struck me as important about them. It will come as no surprise that portraits and use of color were utmost in my mind as I made my way through the various galleries of both museums. To a large degree, that was because of this piece I have been working on all spring.

First, although I haven’t written about it since the end of April (for a reminder click here), I have been chipping away continually at this portrait. My final challenge was figuring out how to set the relatively dark figure apart from its very dark background without obscuring the delicate luminescence of the unevenly dyed silk. My goal is usually to straddle a line between the image portrayed and the surface textures of which it is comprised. By stitching judiciously, while simultaneously exploring color in unexpected ways, I think I’ve come as close as I could hope in meeting that objective.

For those of you who have asked, here is the life drawing that inspired it.

I usually try to include more than just head and shoulders in my life drawings by squeezing in as much of the figure as possible, as well as bits of the surrounding area. I think this makes for more interesting compositions. Yet there are certainly instances where those rules can be broken.

Edvard Munch, Stanislaw Przybyszewski, 1894, Casein and distemper on canvas. This floating head portrait of the Polish novelist was one of the first pieces I saw in the Munch Museum. Aside from being intrigued by the ‘Wizard of Oz’ nature of the portrait, I couldn’t help but make a connection between the thin glazes of atmospheric paint and similar effects that are possible via variation in dye saturation on silk.

Although it’s usually the back story of the subject that draws me into a formal portrait, these pieces from the Kode Museum in Bergen were intriguing for their stylistic attributes.

Eilif Peterssen, Old Woman, 1888, Oil on Canvas What lies behind those icy blue eyes? There is so much personality radiating from this woman, accentuated by the somewhat mystifying background of restrained color. The tones of her skin seem so real. I was quite attracted to the contemporary feel of this more than 130 year old painting.

It’s unfortunate that these striking side-by-side portraits (above and below) were each titled “Old Woman” Seriously, couldn’t each artist have been a little more imaginative?

Jean Heiberg, Old Woman, 1909, Oil on canvas In a country famous for its knitwear, I was thrilled to come across this painting highlighting a pastime that must have long been ubiquitous, certainly in the early 1900s.

While the contrast and depth of color in this portrait is striking in its own right, it was the composition which caught my eye, bringing to mind my own penchant for asymmetrical placement of objects with shadows that have as much to say as the main figure.

Ludvig Karsten, Red Hair, 1907, Oil on Canvas

Many of Munch’s works are thinly painted, often with the canvas showing through. It was a quality for which he was often criticized. But I was drawn to that aspect in a number of his pieces because it left such a clear path toward following his process, and it encouraged me in my decision to not fully fill in The Woolgatherer with stitches. The piece below is an excellent example. An initial view might lead one to think it is unfinished, but his signature in the upper right corner suggests otherwise.

Edvard Munch, Mrs. Schwarz, 1906, Oil on Canvas

Munch’s thoughtful use of color, even in this sketchy image of Mrs Schwarz, is a wonderful study in brevity. Henrik Lund’s portrait below, while more visually verbose, also provides much to consider in its use of marks and color.

Henrik Lund, Prime Minister Christian Michelsen, 1916 The use of color in this piece struck me: the green right sleeve contrasted with the blue lapel, and the various hues used to add depth and definition to elements throughout – the walls, chair, curtain, window sill and sash. It made me feel I’m not too far off track in my color explorations in The Woolgatherer, and serves as encouragement to keep experimenting.

If you are still with me, thank you.
I hope you too have been pleasantly surprised and inspired by this brief peek into these Norwegian masters’ work, admittedly from my pointed perspective.

Finally, my museum report wouldn’t be complete without a quick dive into one of the temporary exhibits that, quite frankly, was the main draw (for me) to Bergen’s Kode Museum. The dance between the classic and the contemporary made for a very satisfactory visit.

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The work of textile artist Kari Dyrdal and ceramicists Torbjørn Kvasbø and Marit Tingleff is nothing short of monumental in their exhibit “Forces”. To hear them each discuss their practices and processes, please watch these three brief subtitled videos, which convey their ideas much better than I could hope to do. I will leave you with a selection of my favorites from their work. Enjoy!

Kari Dyrdal – Pattern, repetition, color and material are all essential to Dyrdal’s computer generated tapestries. She is considered a forerunner in the field of digital textiles.

“I allow patterns to lead me like a compass, both the structures that are apparent and those that are not so easy to spot.”

Kari Dyrdal, Wall Sèvrres III, 2017, Mixed fiber, digital weave

Dyrdal purposely had this piece hung away from the wall so that visitors could observe the construction of the numerous panels from behind. This image gives a sense of the tremendous scale of the piece.

Kari Dyrdal, Red Sea, 2015, Mixed fiber, digital weave

Kari Dyrdal, White Waters, 2015, Mixed fiber, digital weave

Kari Dyrdal, Wall Sèvres II, 2018, Mixed fiber, digital weave

Kari Dyrdal, Wall Stone, 2015, Mixed fiber, digital weave I was really intrigued with this means of displaying this piece. Of course one needs plenty of space, but what a fantastic way to give the work its due.

Torbjørn Kvasbø – Kvasbø writes of his work:

“Disturbing and ambiguous, immediate and overwhelming, beautiful and repulsive. All of this combined to form a readable whole (…) in perfect balance: like a killer punch to the solar plexus.”

I was struck by the way this piece seemed to be woven together – a suitable foil for Dyrdal’s tapestries.

Torbjørn Kvasbø, Stack Terracotta, 2014, Teracotta clay, unglazed, electric kiln

Marit Tingleff – This part of Tingleff’s statement is particularly strong and thought-provoking:

“I live in an age where I’m not really needed. My pots don’t fulfill any utility function other than that they can tell stories about other times and other utility functions. They have acquired the utility that art possesses, i.e. they can open people’s minds and trigger wonder, joy and indignation.

Marit Tingleff, Deep Green, 2006, Earthenware clay, slips, transparent glaze. I wish there had been measurements on this and the following pieces, or some way to give you a sense of scale. They are enormous – probably 4 to 5 feet wide and 3 feet high.

Marit Tingleff, Black and Orange Dish, 2006, Earthenware clay, slips, transparent glaze

Marit Tingleff, Wall Object with Blue Flower Ornament, 2005, Earthenware clay, slips, transparent glaze

So tell me what you think. What aspect of all this work resonates most with you?

Life in Miniature

Last week I finally visited the Fleming Museum’s exhibition “Small Worlds”. I didn’t want to miss it since I’ve never lost my childhood fascination for objects and environments sized down to fit a tinier self.

Miniature sculptures from Matt Neckers’ Vermont International Museum of Contemporary Art + Design

The added significance of small-scale representations (at this ripe age) is they are a way of revisiting and reconnecting with childhood imagination, in addition to being a kind of heaven for anyone who loves details. This exhibition shows that I am not the only one enchanted by a world in miniature, nor am I alone in appreciating the range of possibilities such models present for those who like to dream about and play with manipulating the world as they see fit.

The work of two of the artists stood out.

Mohamad Hafez makes emotionally moving replicas of Syrian buildings on a tiny scale. Marred by war’s destruction, these model buildings uphold a hopeful connection with the former stability and implied lives of those who once inhabited them. Each piece reverberates with a sense of nostalgia and homesickness for the home Hafez may never be able to return to. As an architect, he represents in minute detail the beauty of Syrian architecture, yet that is but one element of the work’s power.

Mohamad Hafez, Hiraeth, 2016, Plaster, paint, antique toy tricycle, found objects, rusted metal, and antique wood veneer, 61 x 35 x 21 inches

The piece above is movingly entitled Hiraeth, a word that means a longing for one’s homeland — not mere homesickness, but an expression of the bond one feels with one’s home country when separated from it. The work sharply personifies the devastation of a conflict we only read about from safety and distance.

You may have already seen Matt Neckers’ work which has traveled across Vermont in the form of The Vermont International Museum of Contemporary Art + Design (VTIMoCA+D), a tongue-in-cheek series of mini art galleries contained within a vintage camper. I loved my dollhouse growing up, but as I think back on it, the miniature environment fascinated me more than whatever stories I was concocting with my dolls, and Neckers’ museum satisfies that purpose as well. His tiny galleries, complete with self-created contemporary artwork, are contained within antique suitcases and a vintage refrigerator; I love the idea of a world created in an unexpected space, making its discovery all the more magical.

Matt Neckers, VTIMoCA+D, Suitcase Gallery I, 2018, Suitcase, wood, glue, various miniature artworks, created in a variety of media

Neckers’ pieces balance between being serious enough to maintain credibility without losing their merry playfulness — it’s an enjoyable line for viewers to straddle.

There was a third piece, made by Allison May Kiphuth, that caught my attention, but the reason had nothing to do with scale. Come back next week to learn what I mean.

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And since we’re on the subject of miniatures…
When we were in Amsterdam several years ago, I was determined to get to the Central Library to see the Mouse Mansion on display there. Downstairs, in the children’s department, is a magical world in miniature that will captivate a child of any age. Over 6 feet wide and more than 9 feet tall, this conglomeration of over one hundred intricately appointed rooms was built over a period of years by Karina Shaapman. One can easily get lost in the myriad details. It’s definitely worth putting on your checklist for your next trip to Amsterdam.

Karina Shaapman, Mouse Mansion

The Dialects of Line, Color & Texture

A picture is worth a thousand words.
With that in mind and as promised, here is a sampling from the opening of The Dialects of Line, Color, and Texture, my current show with Elizabeth Billings and Frank Woods.

The Dialects of Line, Color, & Texture

The following photos were taken before any guests showed up. Once they did, things got busy. I am so sorry that Elizabeth hadn’t arrived yet to be in this photo with us.

In addition to line and color, “surface design” (coloring, patterning, and transforming materials with an eye toward textural qualities) is an undeniable meeting point between Frank’s paintings and my dyed and stitched work. Sharing wall space seems very natural. As you look through the following pictures, enjoy discovering the similarities, despite our vast differences.

Nimbus, ©Elizabeth Billings

Anyone who makes and exhibits art knows the thrill of seeing it hanging on a gallery wall. And while solo shows have their advantages, the magic of this exhibition lies in the undercurrent of “conversation” between our three separate voices, creating an interaction where the whole can be seen as greater than the sum of its parts. Kudos and thanks to curator Maureen O’Connor Burgess for finding the thread of that conversation and moderating it in such a way that makes our work shine — individually and together.

Vacuum Series

Dawn Patrol

Caught Red-Handed, Homer

Summer Stroll

Pick Me Up, Morning Musing, Side Kick

Ulysses' Wave

Evening Duet

Divide&Conquer, Cut Off, Sweet Bowl of Summer

Taking Pause

Without a doubt, the most rewarding part of an opening involves face-to-face dialogue with viewers. Not only is it a chance to explain the stories behind the work which has consumed so many hours, so much thought, and heart, but it is also an opportunity to get the work (and ourselves) out of the vacuum of the studio to see our ideas standing on their own. And when the work engages others in such a way that they can draw a connection between what you’ve made and a part of themselves you would otherwise never know, well, that is truly the cherry on top.

*All images © Elizabeth Billings, Frank Woods, and Elizabeth Fram

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I still haven’t sat down with a Louise Bourgeois biography yet, but I ran across this compilation of her thoughts on how to be an artist, and feel they are well-worth sharing.

Look to Art’s Formalities

Tuesday I loaded 25 pieces into a van and sent them on their way — all carefully wrapped, labeled, and ready to hang in the upcoming exhibit The Dialects of Line, Color, and Texture at the Highland Center for the Arts in Greensboro.

I am honored to have my work in company with pieces by Frank Woods and Elizabeth Billings, and I am very gratified to be part of a show that reaches beyond a specific medium or subject matter, instead highlighting how, despite the obvious contrasts, we all three gravitate to similar underlying formal structures to express our ideas.

I find this particularly pleasing since the formality of line, color, texture, shape, and composition is a major driving force behind both my drawings and my textile pieces. Perhaps, subconsciously, this explains why I was immediately attracted to both Frank’s and Elizabeth’s art when we moved to Vermont almost ten years ago.

I hope you’ll be able to join us for the opening on Saturday, or will be able to get up to Greensboro at some point during the show’s run (through May 26th). For those who can’t make it, I’ll do my best to have pictures to share with you next week.

Poster for The Dialects of Line, Color, and Texture

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This week textileartist.org posted an interview with Janet Bolton, another of my artistic heroes, whose work grabbed me very early during my own fledgling textile explorations. Attracted to her consideration of edges and the way she divides space, (again the formalities of art holding strong sway), I purchased two of Bolton’s books in the mid-90s: Patchwork Folk Art and In a Patchwork Garden. Hindsight reveals a predictable pattern of preference for these qualities, which resurfaced in my later inclination toward the work of Dorothy Caldwell, Toulouse-Lautrec, and Richard Diebenkorn, among others, and continues to attract me to artists today.
The dye, as they say, was cast.

Vermont Vessels

We are lucky in Vermont to have such a strong and active membership of the Surface Design Association — a vibrant, international organization whose stated mission is to promote awareness and appreciation of textile-inspired art.

This week, eight SDA members from Vermont, as well as several from New Hampshire and Massachusetts, made our way to the bottom of the state in order to meet Jackie Abrams and Deidre Scherer, and to see their collaborative exhibit Jackie Abrams and Deidre Scherer: Connections at the Brattleboro Museum. Both artists greeted us at the museum and generously shared their insights during a personal tour, answering our myriad questions.

Jackie, left & Deidre, right

Rather than attempting to reinterpret this wonderful show, I’m going to let the artists’ words and beautiful work speak for themselves. Enjoy.

Age, wisdom, the accumulation of experience, and their imprints on the vessel we call the human body have interested each of us for decades. The fabric-and-thread portraits of elders and the sculptural baskets representing aspects of women’s lives made it seem natural for us to collaborate on a series of three-dimensional objects that reflect the human form.

To create each object, we agree on the general shape and size of the vessel. An image of the original fabric portrait by Scherer is printed onto heavy cotton paper. The printed image is cut into strips and carefully woven back together by Abrams as a three-dimensional vessel. Sometimes other materials, such as copper wire or transparent plastic film, are incorporated into the weaving. The resulting vessels’ strong forms and subtle textures reflect the character that the human body acquires with experience and time.

— Deidre Scherer and Jackie Abrams

Please note all work is ©Jackie Abrams and Deidre Scherer

“Couples”, collaboration Abrams and Scherer, 2018, print on cotton paper, plastic film, waxed linen thread, 9 x 11 x 11”

“Faces: Woven Vessel II”, collaboration Abrams and Scherer, 2017, print on cotton paper, wire, 12 x 8 x 8″

“Staggered Gold”, collaboration Abrams and Scherer, 2018, print on cotton paper, wire, 12 x 8 x 8″

“Connecting #1 and #2” (diptych), collaboration Abrams and Scherer, 2019, print on cotton paper, wire, waxed linen thread

“Garlic”, collaboration Abrams and Scherer, 2018, print on cotton paper, plastic film, waxed linen thread

“Hands of Light”, collaboration Abrams and Scherer, 2018, print on cotton paper, wire

As is to be expected, there’s no way my images do justice to these beautiful pieces. Please see the work in person if there is any way you can swing it. And note that the artists will be giving a talk at the Brattleboro Museum on Wednesday, April 24th at 7pm.

Bird’s Eye View

It’s a sure sign that winter is waning when the warning for Town Meeting appears.

Town Meeting Sketch 1

Each year, the first Tuesday of March brings us all out of hibernation and back into the folds of community. Town Meeting Day is set aside for every municipality in Vermont to come together in order to vote on budget items, to elect local officials, and to discuss town business. It is a venerated civic tradition that has been going strong for more than 200 years, and it demonstrates democracy at its finest.

Town Meeting 2

Aside from those attributes, I love the opportunity to sit up in the balcony of our primary school gym, listening to the discussion and voting “from the floor”, while drawing a vast array of the community members sitting below. Being up high skews my perspective to some degree, but it works to my advantage as I can see a lot more than just the backs of heads.

Town Meeting 3

Unlike airports, where everyone seems to have have their neck bent and head bowed toward their phone, people at Town Meeting are engaged — paying attention to the speakers and select board, or chatting with their neighbor. Within the crowd there were quite a few knitters, children playing quietly near their parents, and a sign language interpreter. So, lots to look at and to think about in attempting to capture an image.

Town Meeting 4

The added advantage is I can happily sketch for as long as I want without calling attention to myself or making anyone feel uncomfortable or self-conscious. It’s a wonderful forum for practice; too bad it only comes around once a year.

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Many thanks to my good friend and fellow artist, Dianne Shullenberger, who alerted me to Sketchbook Vol. 1, an exhibition of 14 contemporary artists’ sketchbooks at Sugarlift in Long Island City, NY. The work is mind-blowing; check out the particulars here and here. You can follow-up by visiting websites or Instagram accounts to see more of each artist’s amazing work.

SF MoMA, Part 2

There’s something to be said for visiting a museum with an agenda in mind, and yet wandering from gallery to gallery, exploring as the spirit moves, can be just as rewarding. A couple of weeks ago, with my pilgrimage to Wayne Thiebaud’s paintings and drawings securely under my belt, I had the remainder of the afternoon to roam freely throughout the rest of the museum.

Looking back through the pictures I took, these are the pieces that stood out.

Jackie Winsor, born in St. John’s, Newfoundland, is descended from a long line of Canadian ships’ captains and farmers. One might infer from her choice of materials (wood and hemp), that her family’s history has had a strong influence on her work.

The repetition of spheres and verticals in this piece leave me feeling of grounded, its form projecting a sense of steadiness and reliability. Contrasted with its shadow which, to my eye, somehow reads as almost whimsical, I couldn’t help but think of cartoons where a figure’s shadow projects a different personality from the character itself.

Alice Neel, detail

Looking at portraits has become a more nuanced experience since I started regularly attending life drawing sessions, 14 months ago. This Alice Neel portrait of Geoffrey Hendricks and his partner Brian first grabbed me with the comfortable sense of familiarity it radiates. Looking more closely, it is the wonderful halo of green surrounding each man’s head and the general use of color overall that locks me in place.

This piece by James Weeks, also a force of pure color, is such a beautiful and exuberant expression of abstraction via shape and composition. I love the way the colors around the edges are channeled into and through the figures, keeping your eyes swirling throughout the painting the way I imagine the music of these musicians is filling the room where they play. Still, the composition remains firmly balanced by the strong verticals and horizontals, an assertive structure that holds the piece together.

Joan Brown’s work is not delicate or subtle. The paint is built up so thickly and unevenly that this painting is as much a tactile experience as a visual one. What a perfect expression of the early years of motherhood: messy, loud, and unpredictable. Yet it also stirs a tenderness of memory for those of us who have seen this sight, or something quite similar, in our own kitchens.

I was happy to get to the top floor to see the grouping of Louise Bourgeois’ spiders. This example that inserts an element of empathy by including a human form comprised of tapestry, was especially resonant. Enjoy what Bourgeois has to say about her work in this short video.

I am quite taken with Cloth Lullaby, an illustrated biography of Bourgeois, written for children. This year I would very much like to read an account of her life meant for adults. There are so many Bourgeois biographies available that it’s hard to choose. Can any of you recommend one that you thought was particularly good?

Of all the wonderful work I saw, there was one piece that stands out. Looking up from Thiebaud’s work to the next gallery, this view took my breath away. This piece has a presence that is absolutely spectacular. If you can spare three minutes, this wonderful museum video provides insight into the work and its origin.

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Finally, seeking out bookstores is an important part of any trip, don’t you think? If you have time to spare while in the neighborhood, there are two that are well-worth a visit within a stone’s throw of the SF MoMA.

I couldn’t resist this wonderful little book. As I suspect is also true of Alexander Book Company where I found it, you can dip in and out of this book and still find something new each time you crack it open.

And for contemporary art books, don’t miss 871 Fine Arts on Hawthorne Street, an establishment that carries only art books — thousands of them. It has an adjoining gallery as well. Complete the triangle with a visit to the MoMA’s bookstore, and I guarantee your inner bibliophile will end the day fully satisfied.

Golden Gate Art, Part 1

I didn’t realize it at the time, but the back-end advantage to the relatively nomadic life my husband and I lived during our first decade of marriage is that we now have a handful of very special places (and people) to revisit across the country.

Over the years, my artistic sensibilities were unquestionably influenced by the various places we’ve lived, as well as by many of the artists who are iconic to those locales. At one point or another I’ve called Maine, Washington, Virginia, California, Hawaii, Pennsylvania, and Vermont home, and I’ve collected my fair share of artistic heroes along the way.

Untitled (Bakery Case with Wedding Cake) ©Wayne Thiebaud, ca. 1963, Felt-tip pen on paper In 1962 Thiebaud stated, “At present, I am painting still lifes take from window displays, store counters, supermarket shelves, and mass-produced items from manufacturing concerns in America.” Responding to the postwar manufacturing boom, commercial developments such as the Nut Tree along U.S. Route 80 offered unprecedented visual experiences surrounding the ritual of food, including seductive confectionary cases like those seen here. Although a wedding cake seems to promise fulfillment, the lack of human presence evokes a sense of emptiness.

Wayne Thiebaud is right up there at the top of my list, so I have been looking forward to seeing the current exhibit of his drawings and paintings at San Francisco MoMA for months. It was a thrill to finally get there last week.

Pairing Thibaud’s work with the companion exhibit “Artist’s Choice” (pieces from the Museum’s collection that Thiebaud hand-selected himself) rounded out the experience beautifully. Each painting in this concurrent exhibit is tagged with Thiebaud’s notations, providing not only a window into his thought process in choosing a particular piece, but presumably identifying various factors that contribute to the way he approaches his own work as well. They are words of wisdom from a teacher I wish I had had.

Orange Sweater Elmer Bischoff ©1955, Oil on canvas Thiebaud notes: “You can almost feel, since it’s a library, that it’s a very quiet place. Beautiful light coming in from several directions. There is a nice color relationship between the green and the little tiny bit of orange shadow over her sweater. But it’s also a very good geometric abstraction: the way those horizontals and verticals work and that terrific angle. This is really beautiful — the way this pattern of light coming down from the top and across in a nice L-shape forms one illumination.”

Jockey James Weeks ©1962, Tempera on Board Thiebaud: “Isn’t that sweet? This marvelous intuitive placement where this little white structure holds the whole thing beautifully centered. His paintings are normally big – or the ones I knew him for. He went back East at one point, back to Boston. But he was here, it seems to me, with some power and some effect.”

Scéne due rue (Street Scene) Pablo Picasso ©1900, Oil on Canvas Note: Picasso reused a canvas for this painting. Just beneath the surface is a cancan scene. Thiebaud: “Well, he sure settled that down. His mother must’ve been overseeing it. He’s such a strange fellow but this feels so authentic and so real. I’ve had a long, long association with it. I think I made some drawings of it.”

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And while it’s fun to return to old haunts when going back to a former home, the lure of discovering something new can be even more enticing. With a bit of pre-trip research, I discovered the San Francisco School of Needlework and Design, a non-profit organization devoted to preserving and promoting the traditions of hand embroidery and bringing a modern creativity to an ancient art form.

Lucy and Annalee of the SF School of Needlework and Design

Conveniently located on the north side of Union Square, I was warmly welcomed by Program Director, Lucy Barter and Director of Community Engagement, Annalee Levin, who shared the wide scope of what SF SNAD offers: classes, lectures, exhibitions, an extensive library, a shop with supplies, and free weekly stitch-ins that are open to all). It’s an enviable resource; be sure to check their events calendar and stop in the next time you’re in the Bay Area.

SNAD’s library contains over 3000 titles, including an antiquarian collection.

And, if you are an embroiderer, consider contributing to their ongoing “World’s Longest Band Sampler Project”. Full information on their website.

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Lastly, a hearty thanks to those of you who have been hanging in with me (and the octopus) for the past weeks. Thousands of stitches later, it’s finally finished.
Here’s a taste of how far we’ve come.

January 8, 2019, in process, Silk thread on raw silk

And now, I’m ready to move on.
More from San Francisco next week.