Category Archives: Process

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.

Relaxed Presence

This week I came across a very enlightening short interview between James Fallows of The Atlantic and longtime tech executive, Linda Stone. I think you might enjoy it: “The Art of Staying Focused in a Distracting World”.

It resonated with me as I am forever trying to navigate my way through constant distractions. I fully own that I rely increasingly on technology to achieve my goals, but I’m not necessarily happy about it. Reading this piece drilled home yet another reason that I am so grateful to be able to spend a portion of each day thinking about and making art.

Even though Stone doesn’t specifically refer to art-making in her theory, I think the process of creation falls within the same framework as the other skills she does mention. It too allows and encourages one to be fully engaged, while at the same time promoting a deep sense of relaxation.

I made a promise to myself last January that I would try to draw every day. As the weeks have turned into months, I’ve come to realize that this daily practice, usually anywhere from 10 to 45 minutes, not only gives me a chance to work on and improve my capabilities, but quite unexpectedly has turned out to be what one might term something akin to a form of yoga.

By approaching this exercise as a “practice”, there is no pressure to come out with a polished finished product. The reward is in merely showing up. While paying close attention to the physical details of whatever I’m drawing (in yoga terms, being “mindful”), an interesting by-product is that the process is incredibly restful and restorative. I’m reaping benefits on a number of levels. For instance, I am making new discoveries in the reciprocity of mark-making between my drawings and my textile work. I am seeing improvement and gaining confidence in my draughtsmanship; unsuccessful attempts don’t discourage me because I know I’ll be back at it the next day. I get a true sense of accomplishment in knowing that I am following through on my New Year’s promise. And finally, my time spent drawing is an oasis that has no bearing on how the rest of my day turned out — in the studio or otherwise… it just is.

That’s a pretty satisfactory return on a very modest investment. I encourage you to try it.

Moving Right Along

The “ice pieces” are finished and stretched; I’m still deciding about framing.

It somehow seems fitting to get these two sewn up for good (pun intended) in tandem with the disappearance of the last patches of snow and ice that I see on my daily walks with Lola in our woods. I’m more than ready to leave the restraint of February behind, and to dive into the color of Spring and the coming months.

But looking out my studio window, you can see we’ve still got a way to go. In fact, it’s been very soggy & gray this week, so it seemed like the perfect time to make an exercise out of my craving for color.

It can be quite a challenge (or perhaps foolhardy) to forge ahead without much forethought, and you can see that I am doing just that — with a vengeance. I mixed a dye-bath of Goldenrod and Pumpkin, with the finished result coming pretty close to Naples Yellow, Cadmium Yellow Deep and Cadmium Orange.

That was the easy part. So much yellow…where do I go from here? I have to figure out a way to balance color and the various means of applying it (paint, thread, & more dye) to offset and harmonize with this rather bold beginning. Oh, and also to pull it all together within a cohesive image/composition.

I have some ideas, but the first step is to consult this wonderful little book, The Colour Mixing Handbook which I have come to consider one of my most trusty guides. It suggests in its introduction that you use it “as a handy reference when you want to know how to mix a specific colour, or as a catalogue of inspiration when seeking ideas to try in your work”.

I’ll be doing just that.

PS: I’ll also be keeping two of my favorite quotes in mind:

“Don’t wait for inspiration. It comes while one is working.” – Henri Matisse

“Inspiration is for amateurs–the rest of us just show up and get to work.” – Chuck Close