I don’t know about you, but I feel a lot more at ease delving into new projects once my slate has been cleaned of older ones. December and January are usually so consumed with juggling year-end evaluations and formulating plans for the months ahead, never mind all the holiday hoo-ha, that it takes a lot effort to keep my eye on the ball and to finish up whatever was already in the works.
In early November I began a couple of “companion” pieces. I shared the first, If Only, in my post Something to Lean On. Today I’m showing its counterpart, It Was A Dream. The two were conceived together but are meant to work either in tandem or independently – viewer’s choice.
Now that they’re both finished, I can turn my attention to whatever may be next. I’ve decided I want to carve out time in 2025 to push some of my trusty processes and techniques in ways that will hopefully open the door to different outcomes. But that said, it’s a lot easier to come up with nebulous goals than it is to succinctly outline the specific steps to getting there, so I have some serious experimenting in front of me.
And while there’s no way to know at this point what the results might look like, I guess that’s exactly the point. If I knew where I was going I doubt there would be much growth, and I feel like I’m ready for a stretch. Meanwhile, I’m keeping in mind what my favorite fitness coach says: “find comfort in discomfort”.
But first things first…
I can barely believe that this post marks 10 years and 393 uninterrupted entries here at Eye of the Needle! I went back through my archives to reread what I had written in my very first post on November 29, 2014 and I’m happy to say that this project has been, and continues to be, exactly what I had hoped for and outlined all those years ago.
In the spirit of today’s holiday, thank you — to the many of you who have been here since Day 1, returning faithfully ever since, and just as sincerely to those of you who have joined me along the way.
With that in mind, I have an announcement: To celebrate this anniversary, I am going to take the month of December off.
I’m looking forward to a break, as well as a chance to re-evaluate how I want to proceed going forward. There may or may not be some tweaks — we’ll see. However, this project comes down to two things:
One of the hidden truths of writing regularly about my practice is that it has helped me to better understand my artwork immeasurably, so I do not expect to stop, and
Judging from the comments you have shared with me, both here and privately, writing about my discoveries and explorations has opened the door for you to in turn fill me in on the things you have found or are doing. That sense of connection and community is exactly what I was seeking when I began and has made this endeavor so much richer.
So again, thank you.
One last thought: In episode #503 of her “Happier” podcast, Gretchen Rubin addresses an unexpected way to spark creativity which, once she mentioned it, rang very true to me. Creating a demand that has to be met, (e.g. the deadline of publishing a regular post online) fosters creativity. Maintaining this self-imposed commitment has taught me that, while admittedly some weeks may be harder than others, if one sets to work, the ideas never fail to come.
Now on to today’s post...
We celebrated the holiday early this year, in Chicago with our daughter. As is often the case, our trip included a visit to the Art Institute. This time we caught 2 exciting exhibits and had the chance to see a universal icon. Here is a quick recap.
First, the spectacular baskets of Passamaquoddy maker Jeremy Frey, were on display in the show “Woven”. His work is almost beyond belief in its complexity and innovation. We missed this exhibit at the Portland Museum of Art when we were in Maine last summer, so I’m grateful to have had a second chance to catch it.
Every step of every process in his baskets is accomplished by Frey. He thoughtfully selects and fells the trees (mostly ash), then pounds the logs with the back of an ax to separate the growth rings, splitting them into thinner sheets that he then cuts into narrow strips. He uses dyes to incorporate vibrant colors and he further embellishes basket covers by embroidering natural imagery with porcupine quills. His mastery and imagination are breathtaking.
This short video follows Frey throughout much of his process.
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Self-Portrait, Looking Left with Hand on Chin, Paula Modersohn-Becker, 1906, Oil tempera on paper mounted on cardboard
I hadn’t heard of Paula Modersohn-Becker before checking the Art Institute’s website to see what would be on display during our visit. Seeing her work in “I am Me”, I was moved by the sensitivity of her painted and, especially, her drawn portraits – mainly of herself or of other women. Considering she was only 31 when she died of a postpartum embolism, one can’t help but be awestruck by the intensity of her work, despite her relative youth. What a loss for the art world.
Farmer’s Wife, Seated, Paula Modersohn-Becker, 1899, Charcoal on paper
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Finally, Hokusai’s iconic The Great Wave is back on display for a limited period (through January 6). It was a thrill to see an original print in the flesh for the first time. Due to the gallery’s subdued, protective lighting, I didn’t even bother to take a picture, choosing instead to just stand and savor.
Under the Wave off Kanazawa, also known as The Great Wave, from the series “Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji”, Katsushika Hokusai, 1826-1836, Color woodblock print, 10 x 14-3/4 inches, image from Art Institute of Chicago website
For some fun facts, you might enjoy reading 10+ Things to Know About The Great Wave. Particularly fascinating: the impact of the work would have been entirely different for Japanese viewers who read from right to left, so likely would have viewed the print that way, as opposed to Western eyes which would have experienced the wave from left to right. Take a look with that in mind and judge for yourself.
Where else but a museum can you pack so much into a couple of hours?
That’s all for now.
Enjoy your Thanksgiving and holidays to follow; I’ll see you in January!
As I’m sure is true for you, a lot of email newsletters fill up my inbox. I can’t read them all “cover to cover”, but I do try to skim most because I never know when the next unexpected gem will turn up.
For example, Fibre Arts Take Two is a mixed-media/fiber arts learning platform. Admittedly, I’ve never taken any of their courses, but I do regularly check out their “Friday Featured Artist” emails which have introduced me to countless creators I might never have known about otherwise. Every now and then they interview someone whose work absolutely blows me away.
With that thought in mind, you HAVE to check out the French artist Séverine Gallardo’s felted, knitted, crocheted & embroidered sculptural headpieces. How do I describe such richly imaginative amalgamations of history, place, culture and textiles? It’s best to just go to the source to see for yourself.
First, enjoy a taste on Gallardo’s Instagram and Tumblr pages. And then, click below to learn more from Gallardo herself in her interview with Tara. You will be enchanted.
FYI there are plenty of other artist interviews on the Fibre Arts Take Two YouTube channel.
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Meanwhile, I just finished my latest “Full Bloom” piece – and like much of Séverine’s work, it carries with it a touch of wanderlust. Thoughts of curiosity, restlessness, daring, and transformation led me to call this one “The Adventurer”.
This one was a challenge for several reasons: the glasses, the full-face angle and the need to subdue any competition between the model’s subtle skin tones and silver-ish hair vs her colorful clothes. That said, I’m very happy with the results — especially the way the subject and the stitched background ended up working, both independently and together.
Measured Response in process
After roughly drafting in the head, I sat with it for several days. There was a quality about it that, although incomplete, seemed to have a lot to say in a ghostly, disembodied sort of way. This is a great example of a point in the process when ideas start to flow for possibilities in future work.
Measured Response, detail
What was it about this particular image that made me hesitate in moving forward? Was it the straight-on stare speaking volumes on its own? Or perhaps simply that I tend to be drawn to art where elements of the underpainting/drawing remain visible? I find a sense of poetry in work where the hand and thought processes of the artist are laid bare.
Plus, backgrounds are a bit of – I wouldn’t exactly say nemesis, but definitely a puzzle for me, requiring another level of consideration because of the stitching. I want to create more than a mere backdrop, yet avoid having the piece appear overworked.
There’s nothing like an angle shot for bringing out the texture of the stitching
In the end, I placed her head firmly on her shoulders, integrating her within space – although admittedly somewhat nebulous space. By pushing the color and pattern of the stitching while keeping it relatively sparse, I was able to hold onto the qualities that had stopped me in the middle, yet reach a satisfactory and full resolution. And, trite though it is to say, ultimately finding a way to have my cake and eat it too.
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While some of you live where your gardens are already coming back to life, those of us in Northern New England have a while yet to wait. But we can dream and plan. Here are a couple of ideas if you too are ready to get back to your plot of earth, but it’s not quite ready for you.
And secondly, during the Surface Design Association conference in late January, UK artist Alice Fox spoke inspiringly about her practice using natural processes with found, gathered and grown materials. She made me long to collect the spent daffodil, iris and garlic leaves from my own garden to start creating with them. Granted, it will be a while before that can happen, but in the meantime I purchased a copy of her book Wild Textiles to learn more and to start the creative juices flowing while there’s still snow on the ground.
This doesn’t happen all that often, but I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out what to write this week. And then it occurred to me, perhaps that conundrum in itself is worth a few paragraphs.
The first pass of color literally sets the tone for what is to come
The challenge of finding something to share with you every other week, beyond just “I made this and then I made that” is a big part of what has sustained me in posting regularly for – can it really be? – nine years. Invariably, if I keep an eye open, something unexpected will spark an idea and from there it’s a matter of connecting the dots. My goal, of course, is that whatever that particular something is will be of interest to you as well.
Inspired by my sitter, drawing from my button stash was a no-brainer
So as I was driving to the grocery store several days ago, mulling over what I’ve seen, read, talked about with folks, and yes, been working on in the studio over the past couple of weeks, I was still coming up dry. But then it dawned on me: having nothing to write about is something to write about. In other words, running into walls is a given and finding a way around them is just as much a part of my (or any) practice as threading a needle and putting brush to paper.
The embroidery on this piece is relatively minimal. Not only does it encourage a viewer to slow down in her looking, but also to more closely considering the unique qualities of watercolor as the stitches and the washes work together. The hard and fluid edges throughout the work are another nod to the medium.
There’s no gliding through this game; every single detail is worthy of consideration. As Lorene Edwards Forkner of A Handmade Garden has written: “Noticing reveals the invisible”. So if I had to distill into a single element what it is that most feeds every part of my practice, both in and out of the studio, it comes down to two words: pay attention.
While sewing the buttons on The Alchemist yesterday, I listened to a recording of Jeannet Leendertse talking about her work on Zoom. Leendertse forages seaweed (specifically Rockweed), that she sews into remarkable vessels and sculptural forms. As a native Mainer, I am intrigued by her use of this material that, as I grew up, was as common to me as grass.
Noting that she is highly aware of the materials she uses and the lasting impact of her creative process, Leendertse shared a link to Future Materials Bank, a resource that highlights sustainable materials gleaned from the waste stream and artists who incorporate them into their work. Check it out – you will be amazed and inspired.
But instead, I held my breath and lifted as much paint as I could outside a house shape that I had superimposed over the subject’s central features.
It was my intention that by embroidering outside the house shape, the painted and stitched areas would stand apart from each other, yet still work together.
The embroidery blurs details, such that texture becomes the overarching descriptor. It’s a quality I quite like – especially when paired with the untouched watercolor.
Despite the variation, the finished product still reads as a whole and I’m very pleased with the added dimension the stitching contributes. That’s not to say there aren’t a number of kinks still to work out. Taking this shot in artificial light emphasized the house shape to a degree that isn’t as easy to see in natural light. But that’s a puzzle for the next time around.
Regardless, the leap of faith was worth it.
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It’s a new world out there – but check out the following and chalk one up for the little guy: artists fight back against AI.
Before I get to the point of this post, here’s a quick peek at what I’ve been working on lately. I have a way to go with the stitching in the tree, but I’m getting there. Gaining a bit of distance by being out of the studio has helped to resolve a couple of lingering questions while simultaneously stirring up some new ideas.
With that in mind, how do I encapsulate all the rich visual inspiration gleaned from a week in Lisbon? As I revisit my photos and sketch journal, it’s hard to miss the synchronicity between the many varied elements that caught my eye.
The Burel Factory is “a Portuguese brand, born in Serra da Estrela, dedicated to the preservation and regeneration of the industrial heritage, the deep knowledge of the wool industry that crosses generations, and the unique culture and traditions, its people and its history, that punctuate that same place”. It is a space where history, design and innovation come together, sustainably creating wool fabrics, garments, wall art and items for house & home. Words can’t express the beauty to be found there.
Murals
History
A distaff, needles and a pair of scissors on display in the museum of the Castelo de São Jorge. These archeological items were unearthed in the area surrounding the castle, a sign of the women who lived there.
I have never seen such an innovative way of making art accessible to the sight-impaired. This and the following photos interpret the above tile painting, “The Dancing Lesson”.
Textures interpreting the figures within 3-D space
And describing the dancers’ elaborate costumes
It never fails, being immersed in a new environment tends to shake out of the brain. Given time and distance, the creative well always refills.
There’s nothing quite like a wedding to put a shine on the world. We’re just back from Philadelphia where family togetherness, perfect weather and a healthy dose of art made for a very special long weekend.
First stop: Blick.
In my world, a trip to Blick is a major highlight during any city visit. With my very patient husband and daughter in tow, I made a beeline there to stock up. There’s no match for wandering the aisles and fingering the goods in person, and it was nice to have a few new things to try out in the hotel room between planned activities.
Nevermind the Phillies, Eagles, 76ers, & Flyers, IMHO one of Philly’s best claims to fame is that it’s home to one of the largest public art collections in the country. When we lived in Bucks County, 30 miles north of the city, life was too busy with raising kids to dive into the Philadelphia art scene as deeply as we might have – but what a pleasure to have a chance to enjoy it now.
The city’s 63 year old Percent for Art Ordinance mandates that any new City construction or major renovation project must include site-specific public art worth one percent of the total budget. So if you don’t have time to visit one of Philadelphia’s numerous stellar museums on your next trip, rest assured you’ll get an eyeful merely walking or driving from place to place.
Gratefully, this visit there was also time to check out a couple of museums.
The Philadelphia Museum of Art is currently showing The Artist’s Mother: Whistler & Philadelphia, a fortuitous discovery considering my current direction.
In addition to Whistler’s cornerstone painting, “Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1”(don’t miss this fun NPR piece about it), it was a treat to see other masters’ approach to portraying elder women. The emotional element between artist and sitter adds a bonus layer to each work.
If you’ve never seen Whistler’s painting in person, you should. She has the loveliest rosy cheeks and, much like the Mona Lisa, appears so much warmer than any reproduction seems able to convey.
And to cap it all off, my sister-in-law arranged for a fantastic docent-led tour for interested wedding guests at The Barnes Foundation the day of the big event. Founder Albert C. Barnes was a bit of an odd duck, as is evidenced by the way he insisted his collection be displayed into perpetuity. But there is no denying that the collection is spectacular, and it’s interesting to take into consideration his aims and perspective as you wander through the galleries. There were plenty of stunning portraits to absorb among the many other treasures.
And on a slightly different note, I was grateful for the chance to revisit this small watercolor by Charles Demuth – a painting that has remained a favorite in memory from my last visit to The Foundation over a decade ago.
I’m taking a bit of a respite this week to recharge and reinvigorate. But first, an update.
The portrait that I shared briefly at the end of my last post is now in its last phase. The paint work is finished and the embroidery is well underway.
First pass
I’m loving the variety of processes involved in these works – first, because there’s a certain challenge to pulling everything together, and secondly, because it’s so satisfying to see the piece materialize as each stage builds upon the one before.
In many respects this whole process is parallel to my my previous stitched-then-dyed-then-stitched work, it’s just that the scales are tipped more toward drawing/painting with much less stitching. The up side is that since these latest pieces move along so much more quickly, I can learn from, and then move on to the next piece to respond to, my mistakes – and my successes – without the huge lag time inherent in the textile works.
Happy accidents lead to fortuitous discoveries. Working on a dry run practice sheet for this section, I stumbled upon the fact that carelessly letting the paint extended outside the masked lines resulted in a flavor of batik. Hmmm, that opens the door to lots of possibilities. This is exactly the kind of discovery referred to above, which I can act on and explore more quickly because this piece is almost done.
And now my request:
I need of models for this series honoring the strength, wisdom and resilience of women of a certain age. If you (or someone you know) fit the bill, live in the central Vermont area and wouldn’t mind giving me 15-20 minutes of your time to take a quick series of head and shoulder photos of you to use as inspiration, please contact me. ehwfram@gmail.com
If you’re shy about having your picture taken, it may help to know that my painted results never turn out to be exact representations of my models – so it won’t be a portrait of you. Rather, your image would be a jumping off point. I’ve come to think of this process as something akin to literary historical fiction … based on fact, but with plenty of artistic license.
I would really like to continue with this series so thanks for considering, and I hope you’ll be in touch.
Oh – and be sure to come back next time for the full reveal of the finished piece!
I’m not sure I could ever quite do justice to the dramatic blue of the sky and circus tent stripes in Montreal a couple of weeks ago, but Winsor Newton’s Cobalt Blue Deep gave me a fighting chance.
Our dog Quinn has the art of post-nap stretching down to a science.
We can’t help but admire and laugh at the languorous ease with which she lowers herself to the floor from her bed on the sofa, slowly and purposefully trailing her hind legs in order to fully stretch out her spine.
I spent our first morning exploring pattern, with the background of future portraits in mind.
Considering it’s beyond mid-May and I’m well out of my winter cocoon, I’ve been thinking about ways to figuratively emulate Quinn’s example in my practice this summer. It would be nice to shake out the cricks of habit and routine that have settled into place after months of being cozied-up inside.
Layers of color add complexity
A hopeful first step was jumping – no leaping – on-board at a friend’s suggestion that several of us take a long weekend for an artist’s retreat at her place on Martha’s Vineyard. In hindsight, there is a certain poetry in the parallel that runs between being situated on a physical island while simultaneously experiencing a metaphorical remove through focused making, discussion and inspiration.
Final spots of red could just as easily been added with thread
As with so many things, the benefits undoubtedly won’t fully surface for a while. No question, it can be quite fruitful to release some of the ideas that bang around within the confines of one’s own head, and then see how those thoughts reflect back in the light of others’ insights and responses. I have a lot to think about now that I’m home, and I know that it will take longer than the actual retreat to get to the nut of what I gleaned.
Later that same day we walked a trail that, in places, ran alongside beautiful old stone walls that are riddled with holes. They are unlike any I’ve ever seen in Vermont or Maine. Later, reading a book about the Vineyard, I learned that these walls, which snake all across this part of the island, are referred to as “lace walls” because of their unusual holes. Although my sample painting above was finished before seeing the walls up close, I can’t help but think of it now as an abstraction and reminder of Chilmark’s unique and ubiquitous boundary markers.
I’m feeling like I got a satisfying stretch for my brain and my practice, and am ready to move forward.
Trimming down what I brought with me took some thought because there is the very real temptation to bring everything. Bottom line: it doesn’t take much to create and settle into a transitory studio.
This summer I am planning to balance stitched studio portraits with more spontaneous versions that are painted from life in a group setting. The difference between the two is obvious, but I feel like each approach feeds the other in a way that ultimately benefits both, as well as my own learning arc.
