Category Archives: Process

Pushing Forward

When I left you last week, I had no idea how I was going to proceed with the piece that I’d just finished dyeing. The pre-stitched imagery was completely overpowered by the dye and I didn’t have a clue how to pull it back into control.

Stage one

As you may remember, this is where we left off last week – you have to really strain to see even a hint of the stitched image.

As with many things, the only way out is forward. And as we’ve frequently discussed in one of my art groups, the most fruitful option is often to just dive in and make a move, see how the piece responds, then make another move, and so on. Slowly and surely the elements (hopefully) begin to fall in place.
And the definite advantage to stitching is that it can always be undone.

Stage two

Adding strong darks and experimenting with color help to bring the image out from the dye. Note the dark lines in the back corner behind the bowl and pitcher, they serve to push the flat surface away, introducing depth.

There’s a lot to be said for this type of problem-solving and discovery. I often think best while working; a myriad of ideas tend to pop to the surface in the midst of stitching, probably because the work itself is slow and methodical.

I also find it very helpful to take a break overnight before progressing too far. When I come back with fresh eyes the next morning the verdict can easily go either way. Often what I thought was brilliant the day before is decidedly not so — and vice versa, but the time away helps to make that judgment clearer, regardless of which way the needle points.

Stage three

Drawing out and amplifying the minimal reds from the dye in the foreground (see previous picture) not only brings it forward, but ties it to the nectarines so they don’t appear isolated.

With each new piece in this series, I uncover more avenues I’d like to explore with this process. I’m learning a lot along the way, but don’t feel I’m quite “there” yet. In the meantime, despite the moments of hair pulling, I can think of no other place I’d rather be than on this particular path to discovery.

Nectarines, Detail

Sweet Bowl of Summer, detail  ©2018 Elizabeth Fram             What was sorely needed was contrast. Intensifying the amount of stitching overall, including complementary sunset-tones to offset the blues, and adding highlights and darks to specific areas, pulls everything together. Remarkably, even though I had virtually no control over where the dye would land within the pre-stitched image, with mindful after- stitching the dye often works to my advantage (i.e. the color on the left side of the bowl and within the pitcher heighten the illusion that they are receding in space).

Nectarines, mid-range

As the camera pulls farther away, the image holds its own. The stitching, texturally and visually, adds the necessary heft that keeps the surrounding pattern from overwhelming the piece as a whole.

Nectarines, full

Sweet Bowl of Summer    ©2018 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk, approx. 18 x 24 inches.

On a different note_____________________________________________________________________________________

Get your weekend off to a great start with these images by Portuguese artist Luisa Azevedo. Pure delight!

Enjoying the Ride

Last  July I started experimenting with a new approach to my dyed and stitched pieces.
Flipping the coin from the way I’d been working, I started embroidering the imagery with white silk thread first, and then dyed the cloth afterward using a new stitched-resist method that I had begun experimenting with at the Vermont Studio Center in April.

Espresso and Peanut Butter 1

Espresso and Peanut Butter  ©2018 Elizabeth Fram,  In process, Stage 1

My hope was that the silk thread would absorb the color and pattern of the dye process, leaving the image to some degree camouflaged while still maintaining its visual strength. I wanted the viewer to be drawn in by the pattern and to discover the imagery upon closer inspection.  Unfortunately, the results were decidedly unsatisfactory because the image became almost completely lost. It shows more clearly below because the angle of the photo catches the light to its advantage.
To jog your memory, check back to my post “Committing to a Process of Search” to read about my initial stab at this new process.

Espresso and Peanut Butter 2

Espresso and Peanut Butter     ©2018 Elizabeth Fram,  In process, Stage 2

After working my way through the more recent lobster piece (my second attempt at this idea), I returned to the original this week with new thoughts on ways to salvage it from its ghost-like appearance.

Espresso and Peanut Butter 3

Espresso and Peanut Butter     ©2018 Elizabeth Fram,  In process, Stage 3

While there are elements of the process I’d like to tweak, I am definitely making progress toward my initial objective. And more importantly, as I work back and forth between the stitches and the pattern they sit upon, I’m really enjoying the ride.  For lack of a better way of describing it, there’s a satisfying rhythm to considering both image and surface, puzzling out a way to bounce between the two so that they can simultaneously work together and independently, with neither being overwhelmed by the other.

Espresso and Peanut Butter 4

Espresso and Peanut Butter     ©2018 Elizabeth Fram,  In process, Stage 4

Meanwhile, serendipity happened in the form of Neil Gaiman’s 2012 University of the Arts commencement address “Make Good Art”.
The thing about a good graduation speech is that it’s just as inspiring to everyone else in the audience as it is to the graduates…maybe even more so because being older provides the benefit of life experience as a measuring stick. Gaiman’s advice resonates loudly and clearly in its encouragement to make mistakes and to keep trying.

Espresso and Peanut Butter Detail

Espresso and Peanut Butter, detail     ©2018 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist and Embroidery on Silk

If you too are attempting to gain some traction in your current work, give it a listen and see if it doesn’t give you a boost.

Espresso and Peanut Butter, full

Espresso and Peanut Butter     ©2018 Elizabeth Fram, 20 x 16 inches unframed, Stitched-resist and Embroidery on Silk

Not There Yet

“I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.”  ~Thomas Edison

I wish I could say, after all the folding, stitching, and dyeing of the lobster piece this past week, that I was completely blown away by the success of my results once all the resist stitches were painstakingly picked out. But sadly, that isn’t the way it turned out.

Lobster Full

Come out, come out, wherever you are

While I’m very happy with the shibori pattern that developed, and I’m grateful for figuring out how to seat the image within that pattern, it’s a huge disappointment that the embroidered lobster image has become completely lost and is now practically invisible. It’s a ghost lobster, if you will. Somehow I have to puzzle out how to illustrate the idea of ‘hidden in plain sight’, but it will have to include the one thing that is sorely missing, the root of my misstep: contrast.
I’m headed back to the drawing board.

Lobster Detail Ghost

Ghost Lobster

In the very beginning of my shibori journey, I came up against a similar brick wall. Some of you may have heard me tell about the first piece from my Dog Walk series – where I used stitched-resist to define the silhouette shadow. I undid those resist stitches with the same level of anticipation, only to be sorely deflated at the unremarkable results.

Shadow Walk

Shadow Walk     ©2012 Elizabeth Fram, 36 x 42 inches, Stitched-resist dye, paint, and embroidery on silk

But after letting the piece simmer for a bit, I hit on the idea to break up the space with a grid of color by layering textile paint on top of the shibori image. This was followed by defining both the grid and the image with stitch. It not only solved my immediate problem, but also started me down this path I’ve been happily following for the past several years: combining shibori patterns with embroidered images.

Shadow Walk detail

Shadow Walk, detail     ©2012 Elizabeth Fram

So, I haven’t lost heart; I’ll figure something out. Challenges are a good thing – and in the meantime the process will give me something to write about in the weeks to come.

The most interesting thing I learned about this week was the work of Maria Sibylla Merian (1647-1717). Entomologist, botanical artist, and naturalist, she was the first person to record metamorphosis, documenting and illustrating the life cycles of 186 insect species throughout her life. Her classification of butterflies and moths is apparently still in use today.
Check out the link above to get an idea of the height of her mastery.

Merian copper engraving

Illuminated Copper-engraving from Metamorphosis insectorum Surinamensium, Plate VI. 1705 by Maria Sibylla Merian

She created volumes of spectacular botanical illustrations. They were painted in watercolor because, as a woman, the guilds of her time wouldn’t allow her to use oil paints. In 1699, at the age of 52, she traveled to the Dutch colony of Surinam so she could sketch the animals, plants, and insects there. Her journey was remarkable for the fact that she was able to undertake it in the first place, and all the more so because it was sponsored by the city of Amsterdam.

Metamorphosis, Merian

Plate 1 from Metamorphosis in Surinam by Maria Sibylla Merian

Everything else aside, with the heat we’ve experienced this week, can you imagine traveling to and working in the tropics dressed in the many long layers of dress worn by women in 17th century?
And on another note, I wonder if Merian’s work was inspiration for Mary Delany?  It must have been.

Leap of Faith

Do you remember this piece from several weeks ago? I am taking what I learned from it and trying again with the goal of figuring out how to portray something “hidden in plain sight” — a stitched image that is camouflaged within shibori patterning while remaining visible.

Pattern draft

Another challenge is deciding what the shibori pattern will be so that it works together with the shape of the image, not against it.

This time I’m using my lobster drawing from a couple of weeks ago as a jumping-off point. I sewed the stitches as densely as I could, trusting their solidity would make it possible for the image to hold its own in relation to the visual strength of the dyed pattern that is yet to come.

Stitched lobster

The rectangular stitched area is 6 x 9 inches. The background stitches were added to set the image apart from the rest of the cloth, hopefully helping the lobster to stand out once the shibori pattern is in place.

In reading Young Yang Chung’s Painting with a Needle, I’ve learned that Asian embroiderers commonly placed various kinds of padding underneath areas to be embroidered in order to achieve a three-dimensional effect. Perhaps creating a relief-like form will give this lobster the oomph it needs to mingle and co-exist with the dyed pattern, each with its own voice, but neither overpowering the other.

Padding

I used both batting and heavy silk thread to pad the lobster, some areas more heavily than others. I think it adds something of a sculptural effect. The process is very reminiscent of trapunto.

The middle image in this post shows the completed embroidery. The next step will be a huge leap of faith as I move forward with the dye process. I hope what I have to show you next week will be a happy outcome, or at least a step in the right direction. For now I am cautiously optimistic.

Stephen King’s On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft and Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life both hold a place on my “favorites shelf”. I return to them from time to time for inspiration, encouragement, and solace. Writers may write about writing, but for the most part the wisdom they share can be directly translated to any form of creative work. It’s just that they’re, well, writers, so they have a knack for making the information both inspirational and accessible.

I will be pushing the above two books closer together to make room for Ann Patchett’s The Getaway Car: A Practical Memoir About Writing and Life, which I read this past week. It has earned its spot next to the others. At 45 pages, it’s short, to the point, and so very worth your time if you’re interested in such things.

Committing to a “Process of Search”

I recently finished Creative Authenticity, the Ian Roberts book I recommended in this post several weeks ago. Because each essay has a fair amount to digest, I’ve been reading one section at a time, letting the ideas simmer a bit before moving on to the next. In a later section he discusses creativity in relation the to “process of search”. Reading Roberts’ thoughts now couldn’t be more timely or welcome because they relate directly to what’s going on in my studio this summer.

Snow Peas

Who knows what ideas may crop up as you go about your regular chores. Each year I have to work really hard to be sure I don’t miss any of the sugar snap peas in my garden. Since they’re the exact same color as their leaves, and because I have them planted so densely, it’s a challenge to be sure I get them all while they’re still young and tender.

Espresso & Peanut Butter 1

©2018 Elizabeth Fram                                                                                                                  As a result I’ve been toying with the idea of creating hidden images, wanting to marry pattern with image in such a way that each becomes integral to the other.

Commenting on the importance of commitment (to your concept), Roberts highlights a differentiation between merely thinking through ideas internally and actually beginning the outward process of manifesting them physically. Tackling problems within our minds allows us to move through a host of possibilities that might conceivably lead us to where we think we want to take the work, but without jumping in and committing through action, we’ll never know for sure whether any of those ideas might truly bear fruit, or if they were mostly illusion.

Espresso & Peanut Butter 2

©2018 Elizabeth Fram                                                                                                               While talking with a couple of artist friends, it suddenly occurred to me that if I switched my approach, embroidering an image on fabric before creating the stitched-resist pattern, the silk thread would absorb the dye, and the two would become one.

Roberts says, ” We have to realize that in our art, we need to go through the same process of search, with all the same kinds of dead ends and idiotic attempts that go on privately inside our mind throughout the day.  …Avenues need to be explored, ideas tested. And like our thinking processes, most don’t work. Some are clearly ridiculous. But when we’re thinking, no one, not even ourselves, “sees” the results. …When we paint, it’s out there in front of us, graphic, black and white, or perhaps in full color. If it isn’t working, it will be oh so obvious”.

Espresso & Peanut Butter 3

Espresso & Peanut Butter  ©2018 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk.                                                                                                                          From this angle the sheen of the silk thread picks up the light really well and the image comes through clearly.

By moving beyond our heads and committing to the physical process, we begin to see whether the ideas that seemed so brilliant in the privacy of our brains have any actual merit. And even more importantly, the unexpected will inevitably crop up to inform and direct the work even further, which leads to branches of exploration and discovery above and beyond what we could have dreamed. Roberts calls this “process thinking vs product thinking”, encouraging readers to concentrate less on the finished product and to relax into the process of arriving at it, focusing on the benefits of the discoveries that occur along the way.

Espresso & Peanut Butter 4

But as you can see (or rather can’t see) from this straight-on shot, the image becomes lost. In the next attempt I will try stitching more densely, playing with the direction of the stitches.  In addition, I need to make some further calculation so that the placement and size of the image is correct within the pattern. In other words, I still have plenty of  “process thinking” in front of me.

It’s a perspective that takes the sting of frustration out of the necessary time and missteps that lead to success. And who wouldn’t welcome that?

Welcoming Possibility

In 2012 I made a series of pieces that incorporated synthetic bulk tea packaging as their primary “fabric”. The bags were cut, collaged together with snippets of silk, and then heavily embroidered. Looking at those pieces now I still find the effect of the bags’ crinkled matte black and metallic-printed surfaces, offset by the seemingly more organic resist-dyed silk and fields of hand-stitching, creates a visually enjoyable textural combination.

Cup of Enchantment

Cup of Enchantment     ©2012 Elizabeth Fram, 9.5 x 11 inches,       Painted and stitched collage of synthetic bulk tea packaging and resist-dyed silk.

I noted in my statement for that series that it had been strongly influenced by growing up among family members who were often quite ingenious at repurposing worn-out everyday objects so they could serve a second life beyond their originally intended use. It’s a mindset that encourages one to look at materials with a sense of possibility.

Butterfly Pattern

©2018 Elizabeth Fram, 27 x 27 inches, Stitched-resist and dye on raw silk. This week’s result. Note that with this iteration the underlying grid is not regular, but of varying sizes.

Thinking somewhat along the same lines, haven’t we all experienced an unplanned “accident” (i.e. potential disaster), when something goes awry mid-process — like an errant splotch of paint or a tear in the silk when the the seam-ripper slips? I count it a successful day when I can come up with a way to switch gears with a solution that not only makes the work even more effective than originally planned, but which fits the piece well enough that it appears to be a choice I intended all along.

Detail 1

Detail 1

In that light, you won’t be surprised that I was inspired and amused by these 15 examples of artists creating a fix that makes their results so much more engaging than the unmodified original.

Detail 2

Detail 2

This is why I never plan too far ahead in my process; doing so tends to be a sure recipe for frustration. Being open to possibilities has led to results that are often more successful than I could have planned ahead of time, and I’ve discovered that the process of working through unanticipated issues is far more rewarding than going from start to finish without any snags.
How about you? Can you relate?

Hearthstone

Hearthstone Anecdote       We moved into our house when there were still a fair amount of details left to complete. One of the many things on that to-do list was finishing our fireplace and laying down the hearthstone. Choosing a beautiful piece of soapstone for it’s color and pattern, I felt especially lucky that the stone seller had just enough left for what we needed. The day it was due to be laid in place, our builders were cutting it to size on our front deck. Suddenly there was a noticeable quiet and their heads were tightly grouped together in discussion. It was obvious from the uncharacteristic whispering that something must be seriously wrong. It turns out the stone had broken in half and, knowing it couldn’t easily be replaced, they were mortified. This is one instance when I truly believe all the practice with studio disasters was a saving grace. That and the fact that not too long before I had read about the Japanese art of  kintsugi. With a bit of research and the benefit of local artisans who generously shared their knowledge of metals, we were able to join the two halves with bronze (really a bronze powder stirred into a fixative that allowed it to flow in place without heat), resulting a lovely metallic vein that makes for a one-of-a-kind hearthstone that I think is far more beautiful and interesting than it would have been without the unexpected snafu. Plus, it’s become one of my favorite memories of our house-building process.

Are You a Cezanne or a Picasso?

During Season1, Episode 7 of his Revisionist History podcast, Malcolm Gladwell discusses an interesting theory about the way that artists produce work. For some, ideas tend to materialize instantaneously, practically fully-formed. Their work succeeds when the artist is very young, and they often remark that it flowed out from them as though it was just “there” — ripe for the picking. Others labor over their art for years, needing time and space to make the many, many finely-tuned adjustments that eventually bring it to the point where they can comfortably say it is complete.

Undyed

I figure it took me around 10 hours to complete all this pre-dye stitching. If you’re wondering how I have time to listen to all the podcasts I recommend, now you know.

The idea behind this theory originated with David Galenson, a University of Chicago economist who posited that there are two completely different camps of art-makers. The first group, the Conceptual Innovators, are youthful stand-outs. They create quickly, with easy articulation, achieving revolutionary breakthroughs from an early age. Picasso is a prime example.

Side 1

The stitching becomes obvious once the piece is dyed.

The second group Galenson identifies as Creative Innovators. These artists often take years  to develop their work through arduous trial and error, never having a clear-cut trajectory in their efforts to figure out what exactly they want to say. They tend to never be satisfied as they work their way through endless drafts. He tags Cezanne as illustrating this category of artist.

Back Side

I made an effort to saturate one side with deeper color than the other, hoping for some interesting variations.

Galenson points out that this theory isn’t unique to the visual arts, and it is fascinating to note icons who easily fall within one of the two categories. Conceptual Innovators include Herman Melville who wrote Moby Dick in his early 30s, Orson Welles who made Citizen Kane when he was 26, and Lorde, whose musical prowess in her teens earned her a spot as the youngest person on Forbes’ 2014 “30 under 30” list of “young people who are changing our world”. He cites Mark Twain and Alfred Hitchcock as two Creative Innovators who didn’t reach a peak until they were in their 50s.

Finished

©2018 Elizabeth Fram , 28 x 28 inches, Stitched-resist dye on Silk          All told, it only took about two hours to dye and carefully pick out all the stitching. I absolutely love this part of the process because it’s always so exciting as the details are revealed – and you can’t know until the very end how the overall piece with appear.

The majority of Gladwell’s podcast centers on the layers of exploration and experimentation  laid out in the writing of two songs, one by Elvis Costello and the other by Leonard Cohen. I found it fascinating to learn the specifics of the years of reworking and painstaking evolution required by each. If you have a soft spot for Cohen’s iconic song Hallelujah, which took more than 15 years (with contributions by other musical artists) to achieve the level of recognition that came with the late Jeff Buckley’s beautiful version, that in itself will make the 40 minute podcast worth your time.

If you’re interested in this subject, I’ve discovered that Galenson has written a book: Old Masters and Young Geniuses: The Two Life Cycles of Artistic Creativity.

 

 

A Week with the Tribe

To say that my week at the Vermont Studio Center was amazing is beyond an understatement.

Empty Studio

First day, empty studio

Plenty of room

I had plenty of room to spread out — loads of wall space, two long flat tables, and area for my easel, drying rack, and bins of supplies without any fear of tripping over something.

View

Quite the view out my studio window

It’s hard to describe the euphoria of spending a series of unimpeded days in the company of over 50 visual artists and writers, each as thrilled as I was to be immersed in the freedom of having the better part of a week to work through any and all artistic impulses with no other worries, let alone the daily responsibilities which tend to constantly interrupt ideas and progress.

Stitched resist

©2018 Elizabeth Fram,  Stitched-resist Dye on Silk, 16 x 21.5 in.        Each of the following pieces are dyed with stitched resist, making for wonderful and new (to me) patterns.

Arch

©2018    Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist Dye on Silk,  32 x 24 in.

 

Hologram

©2018    Elizabeth Fram,  Stitched-resist Dye on Silk, 13 x 22 in.    By layering organza over raw silk, each dyed separately with different stitched-resist patterns, a wonderful holographic-like effect was created that is difficult to capture in a photo.

Black and Red

©2018  Elizabeth Fram,  Wrapped and Stitched-resist Dye on Silk,  23 x 16 in.

Our studios were accessible 24 hours a day, the food was plentiful, fresh, and delicious, and the ready conversation was intriguing and warm. One could work for hours on end in solitude without thinking about anything but art, yet find instant connection and camaraderie across the table at every meal. Companionship was readily available when sought, but there were no overtones of rudeness or guilt for choosing to hibernate in one’s studio in order to keep working.

Peony

©2018 Elizabeth Fram, Wrapped and Stitched-resist Dye on Silk, 10.5 x 20 in.

Wrapped Circles

©2018 Elizabeth Fram, Wrapped and Stitch-resist Dye on Silk,  10 x 20 in.

Bright

©2018 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye on silk, 14 x 11 in.

The scope of work being made was wide and inspiring, as anyone who attended the Open Studios on our final day certainly experienced. And it was a gift to have the fresh eyes and vibrant conversations that public visitors brought with them on that afternoon. It was a week of experimentation and exploration for me, testing and mixing new and diverse shibori patterns, with the goal of discovering new frameworks for future stitched imagery. Many of us don’t often have, or necessarily want, input on work that is so early in its progress, but I was grateful for the fresh insights that cropped up during the studio visits.

©2018 Elizabeth Fram      1. Stitching a big circle.   The following images represent steps of a process, leading to the finished piece. I didn’t get as many photos as I should have along the way, but these show the major stages.

Pleated

©2018 Elizabeth Fram      2. Folded cloth.  I didn’t realize I’d forgotten to take a photo of the finished dyed circle until I’d gotten this far in the folding process – and couldn’t bring myself to go back.

Dyed

©2018 Elizabeth Fram      3. Stitched again, then dyed.   It was hard to know whether or not the central circle that had been dyed first would be obscured by the second application of dye

It wasn’t surprising that many experienced hills and valleys within their  work during the week. If you spend any time at all talking with artists, hurdles are a subject you can count on surfacing. Collective experience and the gift of time brought quick turn-arounds, but knowing how pervasive self-doubt can be, it seems both timely and appropriate that Nela Dunato Art & Design’s latest blog post deals with this issue. Check out what she has to say for a refresher that suggests ways to work around this very common stumbling block.

Finished

©2018    Elizabeth Fram, Stitched -resist dye on silk, 34 x 32 in.    4. The finished piece.   I’m thrilled the circle wasn’t entirely overdyed. Now to keep going to see how I can fine-tune this process.

I can’t say enough good things about the week.  And as is often the case, the best part was the other people. We arrived for the most part as strangers, but I think everyone left feeling more connected and uplifted by the sense of togetherness the week offered. It really did feel like being part of a tribe.

 

Out of the Studio, Into the Studio

I am at the Vermont Studio Center’s Vermont Artists Week this week. What a privilege!
Who knows what I may be up to when you read this, but it will definitely involve thread, dye and silk…with hopefully some unexpected results.  We’ll see.

Coffee Table 1

Coffee Table 1 ©Elizabeth Fram, 8.5 x 11 inches, Ink on Paper

That said, I prepared this post before leaving, which is why it’s so brief.
I’m reaching back into my sketchbook archives from January because these end-of-day sketches of the disarray on our coffee table seem to best (& humorously) illustrate the general state of my brain as I was getting organized before leaving.

Coffee Table 2

Coffee Table 2 ©Elizabeth Fram, 11 x 8.5 inches, Ink on Paper

This Sunday, May 6 from 2-5pm, will be Vermont Artists Week Open Studios. Details are in the link. Everyone is welcome, so please come to the Studio Center in Johnson to see the work that was created during this past week by the more than 50 artists and writers attending.
Hope to see you then!

10 Days of Stitches

It’s been nice to get back to stitching again after being out of the studio for 10 days and then becoming immersed in computer work in preparation for Drawing Threads at the Gruppe Gallery.

I find that taking pictures mid-process, often at the end of each day, gives me just enough distance to plan out what I’m going to tackle next, while marking the evolution of a piece for later reference.

Silk and water-soluble pen

Water-soluble pen marks on raw silk give me the guidelines I need for adding the stitches which will create the Shibori pattern once the fabric is dyed.

 

Dye surprises

Surprises always occur during the dye process

 

Back-side to

It’s worth checking out the “wrong” side to see if that might be a better option. I opted for the deeper colors of the “front” in this piece, but it’s still fun to see the strength of the blue on the back-side.

 

Outline stitching

Outlining with stitches of a middle value give me a basic structure to work from. Often, as the piece progresses I’ll stitch over those lines with a color/value that is better for bringing out the form. If you look closely you can see the white lines that are my guide. After reading Michelle Kingdom’s interview on textileartist.org, I learned about graphite paper as a means of getting your initial drawing on cloth. It gives a much cleaner line than the water-soluble pen I had been using.

 

Transfer paper

This is the product that I’ve been using to create my initial outline. I chose white so it would show up on a dark background, but it is available in other colors. While Michelle Kingdom mentioned that the graphite paper she uses is permanent, the lines created by this paper are not. I have to think ahead and be careful not to touch the lined area because it will rub off so easily…both good and bad.

 

Negative image

With the deeply dyed background, my images are often a mix of positive and negative. Here, white stands in for what would be a black line if I were drawing on white paper.

 

Textural stitches

I’m fond of the textural effect of the stitches that curl along Quinn’s back, making for a suggestion of fur without being literal.

 

Stitching on the bed

Stitching her bed opens up an opportunity to play with shapes and textural effects, adding an abstracted element while working in tandem with the pattern of the shibori and the more realistic depiction of Quinn.

 

Detail stitches

Finishing stitches at the end can be tiny additions that subtly affect the whole. These details are time-consuming but one of my favorite parts of the process.

 

4 stitches

Speaking of details: There was something about her back that was bothering me. It can be a huge breakthrough once you figure out what needs to change, and often it’s just a minor tweak. I removed the 4 stitches that I’ve circled in red – as you will see in the next picture – and it made all the difference.

 

Snug

Snug     ©2018 Elizabeth Fram,  Stitched-resist Dye and Embroidery on Silk. It will be framed to 8 x 8 inches

All this time spent stitching provides a great opportunity for listening. Not too long ago, my friend and mixed-media/knitting sculptor Eve Jacobs-Carnahan recommended listening to an episode about El Anatsui’s 2009 piece “Black River” on The Lonely Palette podcast. If you are interested in Anatsui’s work, I’m sure you will also find the 23 minutes well spent. Since then, I’ve been catching up on all the Lonely Palette episodes — each discusses one piece from the Boston MFA collection in detail. Host Tamar Avishai dusts off art history, giving listeners context and anecdotes that make you hungry to learn more. See if you don’t agree.