Category Archives: Process

3 Pears

I have been waiting to share this piece until it was close to finished, figuring it might be more interesting to see its progression all at once, rather than bit by bit. This has required getting in the habit of taking a photo at the end of each work session but, in addition to not paying close attention to the quality of light for these shots, there were of course days when I forgot to take the picture. Apologies. Still, I think the following images will give you a general idea of how this piece has evolved.

As you may remember from this post, my goal is that the sketches I’ve been doing lately provide a jumping-off point for new work, rather than remaining an end-vision. But what is the point if the resulting work is just a direct translation of the drawing? My objective is to push the unique qualities of textiles and thread in such a way that they convey their own unique voice, leaving the viewer with a sense that they understand how continuing the idea in another medium propels the initial concept just that much further. Well, at least that’s my goal.

Pears-1

I began breaking up the image space by outlining areas with a washable marker. Afterward, I basted along those lines to give myself a permanent record, knowing the marker’s ink would disappear once moistened with a layer of paint.

Working on fabric is different from working on paper in that pigment will bleed into adjacent areas despite taking care not to cross any lines. But I discovered that painter’s tape can work just as well as it does on a wall to keep the textile paint from seeping into zones where I didn’t want it to go.

Once the background paint was set and the embroidery begun, I started to wonder if I could further break up the space by adding a layer of dyed silk organza over part of the piece. I like the general concept, but found that in this particular instance it faded the color behind it too much and somehow worked at cross-purposes against what I was trying to accomplish. I will have to figure out a way to investigate that idea in the future.

Areas of color were laid in with stitching to describe the pears, but my attempt to define their form simply through a change in stitch direction wasn’t as successful as I had wished. I began to layer stitches over stitches which, similar to crosshatching with pen and ink, created a more modeled effect.

What resulted was the happy discovery that the under-stitches, paired with different colored stitches on top, lend a depth of tone much the way an underpainting will affect the layers of paint above it.

The definition of the stems and the shadows beneath the pears begin to pull the image together. Meanwhile, I can also begin to see how the interaction between varying types of stitching starts to hit the sweet spot of finding a way to push textural effects beyond what I can achieve with a pen.

Working back and forth while trying to obscure the lines between image and framing, foreground and background, is where the color and pattern of the stitched marks begin to show the strength of their voice.

Ultimately, I had the nagging feeling that the vertical marks defining the surface the pears are sitting upon (see above), were too distracting — both visually and texturally. My critique group agreed.

I am much happier now that those stitches have been removed.

I am going to let this piece sit for a bit, just to see how it settles with me. It very well may be finished – or there may be a few minor tweaks left to make. Either way, I am definitely getting ready to move on with some good lessons under my belt.

Unexpected Gifts

The weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas can be a bit of a scramble. However, two things brought me an extra measure of cheer this week, lifting me above my to-do lists.

First, this interview with Joy Spontak in the December issue of the Across Roads Center for the Arts newsletter (conducted and transcribed by my multi-talented friend, Adrianna Benson). The following quote from the interview resonated with the way I like to work too, and I love the notion that Joy consciously uses this approach outside her studio as well:

“One of the things I’ve learned about my own process is that it is a conversation between you and whatever (piece) you are doing. You do something to it, it suggests something to you, and you have to think about it to move on with the piece/process. Thinking about how you’ll work this process; feeling, changing, working it past how you originally intended it, because things change. I’ve tried to apply this process to my life.”

Her point coincides nicely with one of the books I’m reading now: Breaking the Rules of Watercolor by Shirley Trevena. Trevena stresses that she prefers to leave her options open while she paints. To paraphrase, she found that “by only half-painting objects or leaving white space” she could postpone decisions, often finding that she is rewarded by holding back. What she leaves out can end up becoming as interesting as the areas she has painted, in essence making the finished work greater than the sum of its parts.

The other completely unexpected treat this week is that my ‘Tres Chic’ amaryllis is blooming… again. When bringing my houseplants inside for the winter in early October, I discovered a bonus: two of my amaryllises had formed new flower buds while they were still out on the porch. They bloomed in mid-October so I figured they were finished. But now they are both going for a second showing, an unexpected and welcome gift during a dark and wet November week.

Do any of you know how these plants managed to get in their dormant time without an extended period of darkness? (I have 3 others that seem to be following a more normal schedule). I guess the cooler temps must have done the trick, but whatever the explanation, I’m grateful for the burst of color.

Liberation through Limitation

Two weeks ago, I had a wonderful comment from Liz in response to my post about using a ViewCatcher.

She said:

I used to do exactly this (use a view finder) with students, only we were writing. We’d tape the frame to the window (our cafeteria had the most spectacular view and room for the whole class) and describe what we each saw.. then share to see what came up. Usually very poetic.. a different type of “sketch”.

What a great idea! It reminded me that, while perhaps counterintuitive, self-imposed limitations often lead to the best solutions by providing a fertile ground for creativity. It’s a pretty wide world out there and we are constantly faced with an overload of choices as we decide what to make and how to make it. That sense of boundless options can be a huge stumbling block; lack of structure frequently makes it hard to know where to begin. Self-constraints, on the other hand, are a portal to moving above and beyond — toward what seemed impossible without them.

Lately I have been restricting my subject to Bosc pears (such expressive stems!), white foam core and strong light, leading to the discovery that those three elements provide endless possibilities!

For some excellent examples of varying artforms supporting this theory of limitation, take a look at this great article from Buffer … and become inspired!

Thanks Liz!

Perched on a Cusp

One of the most challenging aspects of having an art blog is figuring out how much to share. It’s one thing to give readers a peek into the creative process after-the-fact, or while everything is going smoothly. But there are plenty of (if not more) failed ideas and experiments that one doesn’t necessarily want to make public.

My progress is rarely linear. I find myself regularly weighing whether what I’m doing in a given week is taking me in a concrete direction, or is merely a detour leading to a dead-end. And while I think it’s important to follow most ideas to see where they may go, doing so publicly can be pretty scary.

But I’m finding there are also advantages to this cyber-space version of opening the studio door before I feel confident about what I’m working on — or where it may be headed. Not only have I found it tremendously worthwhile to be compelled to collect my thoughts in a coherent, readable form as a means of articulating to myself where I’m going, but I truly value the insights that some of you have chosen to share with me.

The most fruitful project I’ve taken on this year has been my commitment to draw every day. After 9-1/2 months, I’m beginning to see an ever-so-slight crack of light that is pointing me in what I hope will be a productive new direction that will spill over into my textile work. The challenge is in figuring out exactly how to bring these two diverse (one relatively spontaneous, the other decidedly more methodical) disciplines together into something new that doesn’t compromise the unique qualities of each. With color and composition as guideposts, I want to find a way to capture the feeling/immediacy of a drawing while capitalizing on the textural qualities of fabric and thread. Another goal is to strive toward an abstraction of the subject so that it becomes more than a mere translation of what is in front of me.

Saucer & Spoon ©2015 Elizabeth Fram Step 3 There is a lot to be learned through the distance of a photograph; lessons that are harder to see up-close and in-person. This “sketch” is too literal and has lost the vitality of the preliminary drawing above. There are passages here that I find cringe-worthy, (but also passages I quite like). Most importantly, it was a worthwhile exercise of discovery through color and mark-making.

I feel like I’m on the cusp of something quite interesting (to me, anyway!) but the big picture is still pretty muddy. The only path toward figuring it out involves time and lots of practice. If you’ll bear with me, I’ll bring you along.

PS – I try to keep this in mind: Time is rarely wasted in the studio. Although the “positive and negative” pieces from this past summer are leaning squarely toward the dead-end pile, who knows when whatever I learned from them may resurface and provide some nugget of info that is exactly what I need for a future piece. It pays to take a long-term view.

Mining with a Needle

When I took a drawing course at North Country Studio Workshops several years ago the instructor, Gerald Auten, made a comment as he was pacing the room that has stayed with me since. I can’t quote him exactly, but the overall gist of what he said was to work deeper and deeper into a drawing, being careful not to call it “finished” too quickly. He was encouraging us to keep digging in order to see what discoveries would arise. It’s a point that has remained in the back of my mind, and it’s been with me all this week in my exploration of the ways that texture and color can work together to influence each other.

It’s wonderful how sometimes the simplest of remarks can make such a huge difference. I would love to hear about any shared insights that have had a strong impact on your practice. Or, to turn it around, is there something that you have discovered in your work which you’d be willing to pass on to the rest of us?

A Sense of Belonging

I’m always intrigued by the way artists navigate their world, and find reinforcement in the knowledge that even the most celebrated put one foot in front of the other, slogging away in the studio to define their path, just like the rest of us. Living in the digital age, we have a bevy of available resources that allow us to better understand how others approach their work, while simultaneously uncovering similarities between those practices and our own.

This week I have been reading selected archives from the Penland Sketchbook (blog of the Penland School of Crafts), which led me to the websites of several young artists who have been part of the Penland Core Fellowship program. I was captivated by the work and thought process of Angela Eastman and recommend you treat yourself to some time at her website to see what she is making and to read her well-considered ideas. Bearing in mind the amount of time I devote to placing thousands of hand stitches, I was particularly taken with this quote: “In a society where so much focus is placed on personal gain, I find beauty in the collective efforts of individual marks, and inspiration in the lessons in humility that they teach”.

I have also begun Richard Shiff’s book Ellsworth Kelly New York Drawings 1954-1962 and am fascinated by his discussion of Kelly’s “…use of drawing by chance…” In the ensuing essay, Shiff quotes Kelly: “I realized I didn’t want to compose pictures, I wanted to find them”. What an engaging thought; it makes total sense to me. I am often struck by the unplanned compositions that appear as I randomly place my larger work within a smaller frame to stretch for stitching. Those unexpected configurations can be surprisingly successful and several times I have discarded more than 50% of a piece in favor of the more effective alternative.

Finally, I have been binge-listening to Antrese Wood’s podcast Savvy Painter, recently recommended by my friend and extraordinary painter/draughtsperson Csilla Sadlock, (if you follow only one link here today, make it Csilla’s). Each of Wood’s podcast episodes is filled with down-to-earth nuggets offered by the interviewed artist, who honestly spills the beans about both the high and low points of her/his practice, underlining that hard work and challenges are part of the deal for everyone.

Not ready to show the full piece yet, the images today are detail shots of what I have been working on this week (basting stitches and all). I am finding that all the elements mentioned above (humility learned through a myriad of stitches, being open to chance, and finding solace in the fact that even the most successful artists toss a certain percentage of finished work) enhance my sense of connection and inspire me as I work, comfortable in the knowledge that I belong to a sort of tribe. I’ll bet you can relate.

Slow and Steady

This week has been full of experimentation, building on what I’ve learned so far. The process is similar to the progressive states of print-making, with each step producing unexpected discoveries that bring me a little bit closer to where I’m hoping to go.

Following last week’s layered drawings, I began by painting both a positive and a negative image on a piece of raw silk.

Using watercolor pencils and silk organza, a second layer creates the “X”. The idea to use complementary colors wasn’t so successful.

Staying within an analogous color zone was a smarter move.

I’ve had stitching much on my mind, trying to figure out how to integrate it so as to enhance the idea of a positive/negative dichotomy without overwhelming the under-layers and the piece as a whole.

I have been envisioning a much more intensive layering of stitching rather than these simple lines of running stitches. But for this particular rendition/sketch, the simpler lines seemed right. Although hard to see in this photo, a subtle variation of thread color leads the eye in and out of the shapes of both the plants and the “X”, beginning to touch on my goal of an uneasy sense of fluidity between fore- and backgrounds.

It’s time to sit with this for a while so I can figure out how to give stitch a more assertive voice. This example is only about 6″ square. I think working larger will help me figure it out.

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Speaking of “X’s”: before I let you go I want to share this TED Talk by Jamie ‘Mr. X Stitch’ Chalmers with you. I’m sure that those of you who also work with needle and thread will nod your head, appreciating his good humored articulation of truths we all understand so well. And for those of you who may not quite get the attraction to working in this medium, this short talk may make a believer of you. If you’re interested in learning more, here’s his website.

Back to the Drawing Board

Not much for you to read this busy week — instead I’m relying mostly on images to share my thoughts and progression.

I’ve continued to explore along the theme of positive and negative, but have stepped briefly away from painting on silk, reverting instead to pencil on Dura-Lar.

I felt like I needed to move back a bit, trusting that it would ultimately help to push me forward.

In doing so, the complexity of color is removed in favor of value alone.

I like the way the translucency of the Dura-Lar facilitates the idea of positive vs negative in terms of depth, but by using layers that are so obviously flat.

It’s another way to elicit the visual shift between image and surface that I find so fascinating.

In Praise of Intensity

I have always been attracted to artists who have a singular vision and the strength of drive to push unrelentingly toward their goals. How could one not be fascinated by an individual who is so exceptionally focused that s/he is able to make huge strides in a chosen discipline? Being far too prone to distraction to sacrifice breadth for depth, (and frankly opting to let family trump everything), I spend my given hours juggling multiple interests at once, finding a different kind of depth and satisfaction in the overlap that often occurs between them. As an analogy, think ‘liberal arts’ versus ‘applied professional program’.

Impaled Vegetables; Blue Hill at Stone Barns Dan Barber

Our daughter recently recommended Chef’s Table, a documentary series by Netflix. Let me first say that when either of our kids makes an endorsement, I pay close attention. They are both indefatigable information-seekers and I find their choices and judgments refreshingly astute. Check YouTube for full episodes if you don’t have Netflix.

Marrow; Blue Hill at Stone Barns Dan Barber

This is definitely not The Food Network. I have only watched two episodes so far, but I have been swept away by them both. Completely enthralled by chefs Massimo Bottura’s and Dan Barber’s demonstrated artistry and devotion to the craft of producing and presenting food, I realize that they provide examples of mindfulness at its most extreme, and that the lessons shared can benefit and inspire any and all studio work. Heck, they’re an inspiration for any type of work. But what I find most enjoyable is that the overlap between food and art is undeniable.

Oops, I Dropped the Lemon Tart; Osteria Francescana Massimo Bottura “this dessert pokes fun at our daily striving for perfection and pristine beauty”.

Perhaps it is because I have been so thoroughly enjoying what I have been doing in the studio these past couple of weeks (digging deeper and deeper into an exchange between positive and negative space with paint, while saving the stitching for later) that I am sensitive to the idea of being more tightly focused. It’s not that one approach is better than another, but there are different lessons to be learned and I am appreciating the opportunity to switch gears in this way.

I’d like to learn more from Bottura and Barber, so I will be adding both chefs’ books to my reading list: Massimo Bottura: Never Trust a Skinny Italian Chef and The Third Plate: Field Notes on the Future of Food by Dan Barber. Can’t wait to see what the next episodes and other chefs have in store.

Working in Multiples

Picking up from where I left off last week, I am pushing ahead with the idea of creating an interchange between positive and negative space. It’s not a realistic image that I want, but rather an abstracted language for playing with depth of field. I’m not entirely sure how all this will shake out, but the idea is intriguing.

As I’ve been plugging away, I’m beginning to realize the benefit of investigating one area and then releasing it in order to focus on another section, playing all the various parts with and against each other so that they are essentially borrowing from one another in a visual “ending-each-other’s-sentences” kind of way.

At this point I don’t want to be too concerned about the end product, but instead aim to relax any sense of preciousness by concentrating on several pieces at once. I think there is a subconscious advantage in considering each piece as just one in a line-up of several, rather than as a sole effort. I’m finding that by working these pieces in tandem instead of sequentially, they inform each other and, as I work between them, I can follow and act upon any conceptual detours that crop up mid-process.

The challenge of integrating stitch will come later; for now I’m just thinking about the base layers of color in paint.

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For a bit of visual fun with positive and negative space, take a look at Tang Yau Hoong’s website. He’s a masterful visual punster.