Category Archives: Textiles and Drawings

Steeped in Color

We’re having such a lovely, wintery winter this year.

Getting an inch or two of snow most days over the past weeks has resulted in a healthy accumulation, smoothing the rough edges of our landscape and keeping things visually subdued, restful even.

Our home is nestled between the Worcester and Green mountain ranges. Once the sun rises high enough to clear the Worcester range behind us, it shines on the Greens to our west, making for a bright start to the day.

That means there are days when the sunrise or the sunset offer our only fleeting glimpse of color in a 24 hour period, made all the more vibrant by our muted surroundings.

The sky can be just as spectacular in the early evening

Never fear, there is always plenty of color in the studio. Lately I’ve been looking at specific palette combinations, aiming to grasp why it is they appeal to me at a gut level. I figure this is the best approach for leveraging what I then learn in order to create new palettes of my own.

Zorah on the Terrace, Henri Matisse, 1912. Years ago I began clipping an assortment of visual references, often color-centric, (deposits, if you will) to fill a visual bank of spiral sketchbooks that I return to time and again for inspiration.

Right now, M. Matisse leads the way.
One might think just looking is enough, but I’m learning so much more by isolating and then trying to recreate the colors of favorite paintings and from collected resource photos, using the paints and drawing tools I have on hand.

A hasty copy of Matisse’s Zorah on the Terrace using colored pencils and Neocolor II’s helps me to understand some of the nuances of his color choices.

Making color swatches solidifies my grasp of how this particular palette can be translated with my own mixes.

Playing around with mixtures or layering colors over each other to arrive at just the right hue helps me to more intimately know the colors I already own, while – bonus! – being a restful and meditative exercise unto itself.

It’s been very helpful to keep a devoted sketchbook for saving palette mixes as I go along. Not only can I reference what I learn from master painters, but it’s an easy way to retain the various mixes I discover from my own work, including color notations about specific locales (as shown in this post). This has been a game changer for narrowing down what colors to pack before a trip.

Spirit of SPA ©2025, Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and stitching on paper, 7-1/8″ x 7″. The palette of this latest piece was meant to reflect a mid-August afternoon, which was when I took the reference photo and had a delightful visit with my model. It’s all interwoven, isn’t it? Light affects color affects time affects light.

Working on this portrait last week, I was conscious of separating the colors so they could be seen as individual strokes and marks which come together in a palette that speaks to the specifics of the time I spent with my sitter. I still have plenty to learn in order to push this idea – but at least this offers a glimpse of what I’m aiming for.

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Find of the week:
Patty Hudak’s Mokuhanga prints…stunning!

Patterns of Practice

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Do you also find yourself curious about how other people approach their work – the distinctive quirks of process that they have developed for themselves?

Before the holidays, a friend gave me the huge (in both size and content) book The Work of Art: How Something Comes from Nothing by Adam Moss. At a richly illustrated 400+ pages, it’s the sort of volume one dips in and out of rather than reading all in one go. It’s perfect for easing into when you have a spare 15 or 20 minutes.

The Work of Art

Moss features more than 40 of today’s most accomplished creators — painters, writers, cartoonists, filmmakers, musicians, composers, fashion designers, chefs, etc. They share generously as he digs deeply into their various practices, sifting through their thought processes, their doubts, their constraints and, ultimately, their breakthroughs. In other words, all the things we can relate to as part of a creative practice regardless of how proficient or well-known one may be.

Artists are a diverse crowd, but a tribe all the same. Personally, I find that sense of connection tremendously uplifting as I toil away in my remote corner. With all this in mind, I was intrigued lately to, somewhat coincidentally, happen upon a Substack post entitled “Know Your Creative Cycle”, written by Mason Currey, the author of Daily Rituals: How Artists Work.

Strands of Wisdom (I’ve Seen A Lot, Not All Of It Good) ©2025 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and embroidery on paper, 8.5 x 8.5 inches This latest piece came together pretty quickly, which is the exception rather than the rule for me. My creative cycle usually involves a series of starts and stops. I get an idea and head out of the gates with a bang, but then something invariably crops up mid-stream to stop me in my tracks. Then I have to step away to figure out how to get around that stumbling block. Mostly, in-process decisions are a leap of faith which, thankfully, more times than not end up working out. That said, on-the-fly decisions directed this piece away from what I had originally planned. But the good news is, that just leaves me room to go back to my original idea in the future.

If you have a moment, try his exercise to identify how your individual practice ticks. I thought it was something of another tribal moment to discover that while the particular ups and downs of getting the work out of our heads and into the world may be somewhat different for everyone, we all have a pattern, and being aware of that pattern is power.

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For those of you who aren’t on my separate art mailing list…

Please join me and other exhibitors
this Saturday, February 1st from 4-5:30pm at Studio Place Arts
for an Artist Social celebrating

Where’s My Hat?
January 22 – March 1, 2025

Studio Place Arts
201 N. Main Street
Barre, VT 05641
802.479.7069 | info@studioplacearts.com

Scroll down on this link to preview the show

Carry On

Happy New Year!

My December break is over and I’m sure it won’t surprise you that removing this commitment from my plate during the busiest month of the year was revolutionary — enough so that I am planning to do it again next December. But with that said, it’s sweet to be back.

©2024 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor, 14 x 12 inches. I’ve been working with watercolor during our live drawing sessions. It’s very humbling. I’ve learned from watching Portrait Artist of the Year that having a photo of the model during the session can be very helpful, if they’ll allow it. A picture on my phone allows me to zoom in on facial details – especially around the eyes – that I can’t see from 15-20 feet. Later, in the studio, having the photo gives me a shot at a second practice round, from which I often learn even more.

Before I go any further though, many thanks to those of you who sent notes in support of my pause and for expressing your hope that I would return. It meant more than you can know.

This and the following pictures follow a second attempt, this time back in the studio. Here, a quick wash maps out the general dark areas, giving me a basic structure to work from.

So now that we’ve all arrived on the fresh page of 2025, what’s up your sleeve for the year ahead? I’m sure you’ve been thinking and scheming about it.

I used a Pitt Oil-base extra soft pencil by Faber Castell to loosely rough in features. Its rich black marks are much like charcoal, yet glide on the paper and over the watercolor without any dust.

While I mull over my own future projects, most of which aren’t fully imagined yet, I’m glad to have a holdover piece to dive into post-holidays. It isn’t far enough along yet to share here now, but I’m hoping it will be finished by next time. Anyway, I wish I could remember which writer it was that coached it’s best, at the end of each day, to leave your work at least partially unfinished so that you know exactly what to do when you get back to your desk the next morning — a brilliant tip.

Adding Neocolor II’s over the previous pencil and watercolor layers, while judiciously running a wet brush over some of those marks, gives a sense of vibrancy and looseness that I quite like.

It’s a lot less intimidating after any respite to just carry on with something already in the works than it is to face the pressure of starting something completely new. And by the same token, it’s much easier to begin new work directly on the heels of finishing a previous piece, thus taking advantage of the full head of steam you already have underway. In other words, use momentum to maintain momentum.
And most importantly, keep going!

©2024 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor, Oil base pencil, Neocolor II, 9.5 x 8.25 inches. The final shadow over the right side of his face makes the lighter areas pop. I’m coming to really love using Neocolors because they offer the best of all worlds: strong color, the ability to make energetic marks as well as to create a wash. Even though the original watercolor was done in situ and this one in the studio, this second drawing feels a lot more immediate and successful.

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On a completely different note: Dipping into Substack can be just as inviting as the idea of sitting down with a full box chocolates. There’s a lot of interesting and inspiring content to devour, but absolutely guilt-free. I am so happy to have found Canadian painter Harry Stooshinoff there. Love his work, love his ideas. I’ll leave you with this thought of his, which I think is a very apt way to begin the new year:

So much water under the bridge. At a certain point it doesn’t even matter if the work is good or bad. Obviously we try to make the best work, and move it in the direction we think it needs to go. It’s utterly stupid to do otherwise. But it doesn’t matter much how it is accepted, sorted, or judged. It matters only that it is made.

First Things First

Happy Thanksgiving!

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!

Something to Lean On

Dear Readers,

Well, here we are.
I’ve spent a lot of time this past week asking myself whether I should confront the elephant in the room in this post, or if it would it be more helpful to just ignore it and stick solely to art & the goings-on in my studio. As you will see if you read on, I’m going to try to straddle that line.

It’s easy to have something in mind, not always so easy to manifest it. I had expected to stitch the house but soon abandoned that process for other options.

I have no doubt that many of you are experiencing a similar range of emotions in the aftermath of Nov. 5th, and that you certainly don’t need to spend time wading through my personal reactions. However, I believe we all benefit from sharing coping mechanisms. This time around, I’m planning to lean into a valuable lesson learned during the turmoil of 2016-20, and will offer it here for you to take or leave, as you see fit.

As the materials I use continue to expand, it’s easier to get closer to what I see in my head down on paper.

One of the most reliable ways I discovered to find relief from the unrelenting angst of those years was through community and the sense of connection I found there. As one of my artist friends sagely remarked at a get-together last weekend, now is the time to strengthen our pods.

Consciously seeking out and finding commonality with others is key — and all the more so now. Believing in kindness, in civility, in respecting others despite our differences and understanding that laws are the guardrails of a civilized society should be a given. But sadly, as we know all too well, it isn’t anymore. As we look to find our way, we can only control what we can control. Now is a time, as Fred Rogers so often advised, to look for “the helpers”, people who bring light into our lives. So often that quality can be found through creative sectors.

Swatching is integral to every painting. I have a huge stack of small sheets like this which have no other purpose other than assuring the color on my brush is what I want to put on the paper. Even so, the end result is kind of lovely in its own right and I save them as a record of each piece.

With that in mind, here are a few ongoing entities and projects that bring me hope. Some of them are local and/or part of the Eye of the Needle community, and some are more ubiquitous. Wherever you live, there will surely be numerous options near you.

Museums and Galleries
Soon after the 2016 election I found solace at an exhibit of Pat Steir’s work. I wrote the following in my blog about that visit, noting the lift her paintings gave me at that particular impass. “...despite my dismal outlook at the end of a weary and unsettling week, Steir’s paintings provided a 30 minute reprieve by offering a much-needed sense of solid ground; her visual language seemingly echoing the weight of what I was feeling while simultaneously bolstering my spirits with strength, determination and certainty“. full post with images
Visit Your Local Library
Librarians are unsung heroes that are there to support everyone in a community in a multitude of ways. Books provide one of life’s best and most reliable ways to take a break – whether through learning or a period of escape.
Go to a Community Play
Paraphrasing local director Monica Callan of Moxie Productions during a recent interview in advance of the opening of her new production, Mauritius: to be in the presence of fellow community members, in the dark, experiencing a different world together is so much richer than streaming an online show on your laptop.
Take a Class
Enjoy the challenges and rewards of trying something new with others. I would love to be able to drop in on reader Kate Godfrey’s portrait embroidery classes in Berkeley, CA.
Check out and Sign up for The Americans of Conscience Checklist
This regular, non-partisan checklist of easily accomplished actions are meant to strengthen democracy and expand equality, one step at a time. It’s an easy avenue toward making your voice heard.
Bonus: they send out a monthly email of “Just Good News”, listing the many positive things that Americans are accomplishing. We could all use a dose of that, even in the best of times.
Look for Projects that Keep You Informed
Knit Democracy Together is an ongoing project created by craft-ivist Eve Jacobs-Carnahan. Eve is a former election attorney who demystifies our election systems via a form of modern-day knitting circles. Her events have expanded beyond Vermont and have been welcomed to numerous other states which appreciate and recognize the need for accurate information.

I’m sure you have plenty of your own ideas; the main thing for us to keep reminding ourselves is that we’re aren’t alone. And perhaps most importantly, as the offspring of one of my good friends said to me, with fist pumped in the air at the end of the artist talk I had just given: “Keep making art!”

Color Splurge

I splurged recently, using some of the proceeds from my Summer Stories Archival Sale to buy a deluxe set of 84 Neocolor II Aquarelle crayons.

Neocolor II

Years ago I somehow acquired a small, basic set of these crayons but never quite figured out how to feel comfortable using them. However, watching Emma Carlisle draw with them, and seeing what an integral part of her basic mixed-media kit these watercolor crayons are, I dug out my old set last spring and began to experiment.

Truthfully, I didn’t feel the love. They were sticky and just seemed clumsy and awkward. I wondered if I might have better luck with the non-soluble Neocolor I’s, so I picked up a small handful of open stock colors along with a single Beige Neocolor II at the Oakland brick and mortar Blick last May, figuring I’d give them a try.

What a difference!! – especially the Beige water soluble Neocolor II I sampled. I don’t know if Caran d”Ache changed the formula or, more likely, if surviving decades and multiple moves through various climates took a toll on my originals, but the ones I bought last spring were a completely different story. All the images in this post were created with the new Neocolor II’s I just bought.

They’re very creamy and glide going down on the page, they have fantastic coverage/opacity and the color of the Neocolor II’s can be easily moved around while becoming beautifully translucent when diluted with a watery brush. Both versions (I & II) can be layered over each other and mix well with colored pencils – although most successfully if the pencils are laid down first.
I was ready to invest.

Per usual, I spent a lot of time hemming and hawing over which set to buy – the 30? the 40? How many colors are enough and what would be too few? And then… a SALE! so I bought the set of 84 and now I’m in color heaven.

Trixie, detail. What I most enjoy about these Neocolors is they mix like paint while maintaining their drawing characteristics. Plus, the color is so rich!

Remember the thrill of opening a Crayola box that had 64 crayons and a built-in sharpener? Well, I’ve realized very happily that that’s a feeling some of us never outgrow.
…And, for a bit of election diversion this weekend, enjoy a quick peek at the history of Crayola colors – it’s pretty interesting.

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Speaking of the election…is anybody else feeling like this lately?

Seriously? ©2024 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and stitching on paper, 6×8 inches. I’ve been busy lately doing some preliminary work for a couple of new pieces. This figure/sketch was painted as part of that preparation. But reading about some of the unbelievable statements that have been made in the past week, this question – perhaps too mildly put – was top of mind.

There’s nothing else to say but get out there & VOTE!
See you on the other side.

Montreal Melange

The closest “big city” to central Vermont is Montreal which, at only 2-1/4 hours away, is a virtual stone’s-throw and perfect for a get-away. We spent a couple of days and nights there earlier this month taking in some delicious meals, live jazz and plenty of fresh visual inspiration.

de Fil et De Papier signage

Most exciting was a visit to the current exhibition at MUMAQ – The Musée des Métiers d’Art du Québec (Québec Museum of Crafts). De Fin et De Papier (Thread and Paper) is an invitational show, curated by paper artist Marie-José Gustave; it includes the work of 8 artists, as well as her own.

One of the things I most appreciated about the museum itself is that everything is accessible and easy to see, often from several angles. And unlike the permanent collection, the work in De Fin et De Papier is not behind glass so it can be viewed closely enough to study the processes and workmanship of each delightful piece in minute detail.

Lâcher Prise, detail, Nithikul Nimkulrat. So wonderful to recognize the macrame knots we used to use to make plant hangers a million years ago reappearing to such beautiful effect in Nimkulrat’s etherial dresses

Ann Boscher’s work was by far my favorite in the show. I haven’t ever seen stitching on paper used to such effect…wonderful!

If you go, be sure to allow time to take in the permanent collection as well. There are wonderful examples of work made by numerous generations of Québequois fine craft and folk artists – in glass, ceramic, silver, wood-carving, textiles and more.

The museum building was formerly a new-Gothic church that had been dismantled stone by stone and then rebuilt at its current location when the land it originally sat upon was expropriated by the Canadian National Railway to make way for a new station. The building and collection together are a virtual treasure box.

We also visited the Montreal Botanical Garden. I realize it’s a bit ironic leaving rural Vermont, heading to the city and then spending a chunk of time wandering through gardens, but that’s who we are. In fact, because we covered so much ground across town this trip, I became more cognizant of how much care the city planners of Montreal have put into being sure to incorporate green space throughout their city.

If you’ve been before you’ll know the Botanical Garden is a stunner. But what struck me most this visit, despite the flagging fall blooms, was the thoughtful and diverse color combinations that are still vibrant. It would be lovely to spend an afternoon with a sketchbook making notes of the unexpected color blends for future reference.

Finally, Montreal is rich with public art.
Intrigued before our trip by reading about the Canadian Centre for Architecture Sculpture Garden, (designed by Montreal artist-architect Melvin Charney), I was anxious to see and walk among the (relatively) miniature buildings raised on columns. Surrounded by a lovely green space, the sculpture section of the park is compact and doesn’t take much time view.

Melvin Charney

The lasting impression is a lovely sense of harmony between its elevated art structures, sitting in a conversation of sorts with the neighboring high-rises. One doesn’t feel a giant amongst these small buildings, but because of them, nor does one feel dwarfed by the height of nearby towers.

Melvin Charney, Canadian Centre for Architecture Sculpture Garden

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I just watched “Grab a Hunk of Lightening“, a terrific documentary about photographer Dorothea Lange, via the Architecture + Design film series. It was a one-day event, but you can stream the film through Amazon, Apple TV or Google Play Movies for $2.99. For those who aren’t familiar with much of Lange’s work beyond her photographs of migrant workers during the depression, you are in for a treat.

Small, Thoughtful Steps

Remember the painted detail of the birds that I shared in my last post?
Here is the full painting, now complete.

I can’t necessarily explain this piece in the sense of telling a particular story, but I will say it’s a convergence of and meditation on a number of things: the passage of time, a feeling of grounding that is rooted in one’s sense of place, the idea of freedom in unrealized possibilities, and an overarching love for the changes that come with Autumn as the landscape readies for the dormancy of Winter. Hmmm – I guess even if it isn’t a story, that’s a lot to pack into 9″ x 12″.

Washi tape and masking fluid give me the ability to preserve various sections while working on others. Pencil lines rough in the suggestion of a background pattern in the upper right (which becomes more prominent as the piece evolves). If you look closely you can see that this pattern riffs off both the pointed house shape, which encloses the portrait, and the swooping lines of the hair.

While I always work on an entire painting all at once, I do toggle back and forth between elements because, as I move through each stage, every decision affects everything that comes after. An action taken in one area dictates the next step for another section.

Early layers of paint set up a backdrop

In other words, I depend upon a series of mindful steps that build upon each other. These images of the portrait within the painting give an idea of that progression.

Layers of Naples Yellow and Yellow Ochre connect the fore, mid, and background by adding dimension to the grasses, warming the tones of the face and carrying the sunset over from the left of the painting in the background. Washes and strokes of green link the hair, the eyes, the grasses and the field while offsetting the blue and yellow complementary undertones that had begun to dominate.

When sitting down to a freshly stretched sheet of paper, I may have a core idea of where I’m headed but I can always count on the fact that there will be plenty of changes and adjustments along the way, most of which relate to the nuts and bolts of process itself.

While initially I had planned to leave it out, adding a mouth soon felt necessary. The masking fluid that preserved the area for the sumac has been lifted in this picture. It’s always a relief to remove the washi tape or masking fluid so I can see the piece without the distraction of their strong colors.

In a way, every new piece is a wonderful sort of puzzle. Before the brush even touches paper, it’s necessary to think ahead to consider what might need to be done first (such as which elements to mask) and in what order each consecutive layer needs to be laid down. For the most part, the masking is really the only part of the process that rarely changes.

Masking the sumac branches and flowers in the foreground was the very first step after lightly penciling in the composition. Considering that masking fluid dries to a yellow-ish color, I had to consciously work to avoid letting it influence my surrounding color choices.

The stitched roof was a late decision. Not only does it further accentuate the curving pattern in the background but, more importantly, the added 3-dimensionality of the house/portrait combo makes a lot more sense, sitting in a landscape as it does – even though it isn’t meant to be a “real” house.

Incorporating stitching is usually the last step, but an element I’ve been thinking about before the first pencil mark even hit the paper. However, it too is influenced by what goes before, as noted in the caption above, and sometimes ends up being completely different from what I’d initially imagined.

It’s these small, thoughtful steps along the way, many of which can’t be predicted, that make a piece what it ultimately becomes. For the most part, I’ve learned it’s worth being patient, and trusting that the piece itself will lead me in the right direction.

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How many times have you read an article that challenges readers to name 3-5 women artists, correctly insinuating that it’s difficult to do in a culture that has historically ignored the accomplishments of women in our field?

Women Painters Book

When we were in Berkeley last month, I managed to find time — correction: I MADE time — to stop by Mrs. Dalloway’s – Literary and Garden Arts, a treasure of a local bookstore. I picked up a little gem that fit easily into my bag and that I think you might like too: An Opinionated Guide to Women Painters . It’s a concise compendium that covers, with images, “65 female artists from throughout history and across the world”. There are names you will recognize and plenty you won’t. The contributors have done their best to see that no one is stumped by the ‘name 5 female artists’ question again.

Field Trip

Vermont is in the midst of a roll of warm, sunny days.
And while we appear to be flirting with fall because daylight hours are getting noticeably shorter and the foliage is turning quickly, the past couple of weeks have felt decidedly more summer-like. Time for a field trip!

K. Grant Fine Art, 37 Green St., Vergenne, VT 802.922.4399 kgrantfineart.com

Last week we ventured to the other side of the Green Mountains, destined for Vergennes, to check out “Soft Openings“, the inaugural show at K. Grant Fine Art which opened its doors in August.

With abundant natural light pouring in the front widow, the gallery feels at once both intimate and spacious – a credit both to the nature of the building that houses it and gallerist/owner Kristen Grant’s curatorial chops. I was charmed.

Three irrepressible ceramic floral sculptures by Norwich artist Megan Bogonovich; she characterizes her work as a lovechild of Pierre Bonnard and Tony Smith. Bogonovich was featured on This is Colossal last May.

A painting by Cameron Davis’ that pulses with life, flanked by Pamela Fraser’s ceramic sculptures which are presented and exist as moveable pairs.

Paying a visit was spurred by Alice Dodge’s glowing review in 7 Days which gives a rounded depiction of the five exhibiting artists, their work, and of Grant herself. The article was enough of a teaser to pull me in and I found the show to be as vibrant as promised. In fact, I’m not sure there’s much I can add to Dodge’s assessment other than a few photos.

Pattern is the undercurrent that runs through all the work in “Soft Openings”. Rooted in nature, the energetically improvised paintings by Arista Alanis offer a sense of organization through her inclusion of pattern.

Pamela Fraser’s spiked ceramic piece is an apt counterpoint to Wylie Garcia’s spiraling floral bower.

Even though I had my favorites among the exhibitors, I walked away feeling that each artist’s voice confidently held its own in conversation with its exhibition mates, remaining distinct as an individual entity. That’s no small accomplishment in a group show.
“Soft Openings” closes on September 28th so there’s still a little more than a week to catch it if you can.

Left to right: Megan Bogonovich, Pamela Fraser, Wylie Garcia

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Despite the warmth and sun, I have Fall on the mind. The daily changes in color and texture surrounding us are filtering into my sketchbooks as well as my latest painting, detail above, which is still unfinished on the board and remains to be stitched. I’ve been approaching it in a measured way – not necessarily slowly, but with deliberation – working to pull all the elements together and think ahead to how stitching will complete its circle.

Such a Gift

From its inception, I have consciously kept this blog centered on my practice rather than delving any more than superficially into my personal life. This has been partly in an effort to respect my family’s privacy, but also to keep attention focused on the elements I am most interested in sharing within this space: the ideas, art and processes that grab my attention, inform my work, and which I hope will hold some interest for you as well. However, it’s delightful serendipity when occasionally the two legitimately overlap.

This post will be short and sweet as we have just returned from California where we celebrated one of life’s most joyous milestones – our son’s wedding. And quite frankly, I’m too spent, in the happiest of ways, to write very much.

©2024 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor, Colored pencil & White acrylic on paper, 3.5 x 5 inches. While I did bring my supplies, I only had time for one fleeting little sketch last week. The golden hills that are so ubiquitous along the roads and highways of Marin County are so striking – rich as they are with hints of Mars Violet and Burnt Ochre and dotted with the green of both isolated and clumped groups of trees.

But I’d like to take the time to share that it was my son who, when I was mulling over the idea of whether or not to begin a blog in 2014, most heartily encouraged me to dive in, dispelling any lingering fears that were causing me to hesitate. In the almost 10 years since, he has consistently been available – to consult about technical issues, to share authors and podcasts, and to support my nerdy enjoyment of productivity hacks so I could learn to juggle the many artistic and personal balls I want to keep up in the air.

In early June, he sent me the following article from The Convivial Society, which I just loved and knew would be perfect to highlight here sometime. Please read it – it’s a healthy helping of food-for-thought which resonates strongly, not only with ideas I, and maybe you, have been feeling instinctually in my gut (most closely expressing in this post from 2016,) but it is well-worth a read for anyone who works creatively and is wondering where the world of AI will lead us. At its core, it is an affirmation that we can hold onto the things that will always give us the advantage over technology. If nothing else, L. M. Sacasas’ theory would be a great jumping-off spot for future discussions.

Meanwhile, there is nothing more gratifying than realizing a loved one “gets” you by reaching out to engage the thoughts and quandaries that swirl around in your head, but which you may not have quite known how to articulate yourself. In sharing this essay, it’s clear my son is paying attention, and that is the greatest of compliments/gifts.

With that in mind, I’d like to dedicate this post to him and his bride as they embark on their bright future, with deep appreciation for the many, many contributions he, and now they, have made to enrich my journey, both in the studio and outside of it.

Here’s to you SBF & OGW…and from the bottom of my heart – thank you.