Category Archives: Textiles and Drawings

Last Hurrah of Color

One of the perks of living in a rural state is the beauty of the open land one passes on the way to pretty much everywhere.

Blueberry leaves in the fall are glorious – as these few stragglers attest

Each season lends its voice to the ever-changing flora, with color combinations that are sometimes prominent, sometimes subtle, but always there to enjoy. The sight of a well-known field as it reliably cycles through the year’s seasons is a both a source of comfort and of inspiration.

The azaleas also outdid themselves this year

Driving the back roads through the Northeast Kingdom to the Canadian border last week was a chance to enjoy the final gasp of what has been a gorgeous Vermont fall. Of particular note were the deep russet and rust hues interlaced between the ochres and dark umbers of the grasses and foliage in the marshes and bogs we passed, their impact heightened by the gloomily overcast skies. As various plants decline toward winter their colors differentiate, allowing their individual shapes to show in a way that isn’t visible amidst the lush blend of summer’s myriad shades of green.

This shrub is a voracious creeper that requires constant and merciless pruning. But all is forgiven when it puts on this stunning ombre display.

There wasn’t time to stop to take photos, but after getting home, I circled our yard to record the last legs of our own foliage. And good thing I did; strong winds and rain over the following 24 hours swept down the last of the leaves. For one final afternoon though, the striking color took my breath away.

The sight of crabapples and winterberry ease the transition when leaves drop

Not being a landscape artist, it’s hard to gauge how these impressions will surface in my work, but I know that somehow they will. It’s part of the wonderful, ongoing homework of making art. Paying attention to the colors that surround us, gleaning what we can in order to reinterpret them in a meaningful and personal way, is one of the many privileges of what we do and a major component of what attracts me to the work of others. The paintings below, seen recently at The Farnsworth Museum in Rockland, Maine, are a perfect example.

Six Cows At Lincolnville, Lois Dodd, 1961, Oil on canvas

Untitled (View from the Ruohomaa homestead on Dodge’s Mountain), Kosti Ruohomaa, 1935, Oil on panel.

To frame this idea from another perspective, consider color not necessarily as subject, but from the angle of its impact on us as a backdrop. Research abounds on how wall color affects mood and behavior in prisons, schools, and hospitals; it is certainly true of our outward surroundings as well. Museums and galleries play on this theory too — the variety of colors that grace their walls add immeasurably, although perhaps subconsciously, to the way one sees and experiences the art on display. Is that not also true of our outdoor environment and its effect on us? What better reason to celebrate a field sporting its last hurrah of color on a grey and drizzly morning than for witnessing its inherent beauty and the way the sight of it flavors the rest of our day as we move forward.

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I found a couple of interesting articles about the thought that goes on behind the scenes in choosing wall colors to enhance an exhibition, thereby heightening the viewers’ experience. In one, individual curators talk about what inspires their choices, and in the other, how color designers/colorists often create new colors to best highlight the work on exhibit.

©2019 Elizabeth Fram, 18×24 inches, Graphite and colored pencil on paper Perhaps resurfacing more quickly than I would have thought — reds and golds in a quick study from life drawing earlier this week.

And for those interested in getting even further in the weeds on this subject, enjoy this fascinating article from the Metropolitan Museum on “Color and Light in the Museum Environment”.

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One final note and announcement:
At the end of this month, I am going to be making a bit of a change with this blog in order to reclaim some much-needed time for other areas of my practice. It won’t be disappearing entirely by any stretch, but it will begin to transform. I’ll let you know more at the end of November. In the meantime, I am ever so grateful for your ongoing interest and support, and I hope you will stay with me and keep reading as Eye of the Needle moves forward to its next chapter.

Persicaria

Making It Work

There has been so much to write about in the past weeks that I’m just now realizing it was all the way back on September 19th that I last made any reference to the piece that is currently in the works. Time to bring you up to speed.

Progressing from bottom to top

The various issues that were dogging me in the beginning have since ironed themselves out, so I’m at the point now where it’s more a matter of putting in the time to get the piece done. I will undoubtably be circling back to polish up this first side, but for now I’m roughly halfway to the finish line and hope that the piece as a whole will progress more quickly. But that said, hand-stitching is not speedy work.

I’ve used this stitch a fair amount. I like the way it fills a space without letting it become too static. For another example, look at my banner photo above.

As is often the case, fortuitous discoveries tend to develop out of necessity, and this piece is no exception. As I was methodically stitching the main figure of the chess king, it didn’t take long to realize that I wouldn’t have enough of the colors I’d chosen to complete the checkerboard pattern within it. Whenever my work is going smoothly and I’m on a roll, I really hate interrupting the process to go out for more supplies. Therefore, I’m much more likely to search for (in the words of Project Runway’s Tim Gunn) a “make it work” solution that will allow me to keep going.

Now that I’ve told you my secret about the color variety in this central figure, don’t be surprised if you see me using the same device again.

So what you’re seeing above are the results of that hiccup. Rather than just the two thread colors originally planned, I’ve used a variety of six. And frankly, I think doing so has brought life into the figure that would have been missing otherwise.

Onward and upward — the queen will soon be appearing within the blue arch.

You can’t arrange for these kinds of issues / solutions ahead of time, but they do seem to regularly present themselves. Invariably that’s a good thing. To a large extent that explains why I try not to plan a piece too far in advance or to be too married to a particular outcome. Kismet is often much smarter than I am.

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Words to live by:
I just started reading Carol Marine’s Daily Painting. Although I haven’t gotten very far into it, I like it very much so far. In Chapter One she talks about writing a letter to portrait artist Michael Shane Neal for advice. He wrote her back with a lot of helpful information, but finished the letter with what Marine characterizes as the best advice she’d ever receive.

“The best way to improve your skills is to do some kind of art every single day.”

DIY

Whenever we travel by car I feel pretty unconstrained in terms of how much I bring along, but if we’re going by plane I try to travel as lightly as possible. That definitely includes art supplies.

This is what I brought with me earlier this month: a water brush, .01 Micron pen, Water-soluble pencil, .05 mechanical pencil, kneaded eraser, tiny watercolor palette and spray bottle. It all fits neatly in the 8 x 3 inch bag I got at the Munch Museum in May. Check out the Pocket Palette by Expeditionary Art , only slightly larger than a business card.

For Belgium and the Netherlands I trimmed my kit to the bare essentials and it worked really well. However, the one item that’s absolutely non-negotiable and that goes with me everywhere is a sketchbook. I’ve tried all sorts of options in the past, but even the smaller ones end up feeling bulky and heavy, taking up more room in my handbag than I’d like.

I can’t resist bringing museum brochures home but they eventually get recycled. Adding them to the cover of a sketchbook is a much more satisfactory solution. Note the elastic that keeps this sketchbook closed. It’s an extra step in the process that was well-worth the time.

For this latest trip though, I happened upon a new solution that worked beautifully: I made a sketchbook myself. By doing so, its overall size, type of paper, number of pages, and weight were exactly right. The binding isn’t at all bulky and, since it is hand-sewn, it opens completely flat, making a double-page spread possible if wanted.

There are numerous ways that you can bind the leaflets together, but simple is best for my needs.

As a matter of routine, I cut my 20″x30″ drawing sheets down to 18″x24″ so they fit the drawing board I bring to my weekly life-drawing sessions. That has left me with a slew of 6″x20″ strips in a variety of high-quality papers. By trimming 6 inches off the end of some of the strips and then folding each remaining 6″x14″ piece in half, I ended up with the very workable sketchbook size of 6″x7″.

Adding the elastic is simply a matter of making a couple of slits in the back cover that are as wide as the elastic itself, and then using a sturdy glue, such as PVA, to hold the ends in place.

One thing to think about is how many pages you think you’ll need for the time you’ll be away. I used 4 of the 6″x14″ strips and hand-bound them within a slightly larger “cover” of watercolor paper, giving me 16 (6x7in) or 7 (6x14in) pages — not counting the cover which can be additional pages if needed.

It was perfect! Lightweight, easy to slip into my purse, and especially versatile considering the variety of papers I had included.

Seeking out art supply stores in any new city is always fun. However, since everything has become so globalized, it’s a challenge to find something you can’t get at home. I haven’t seen this brand of pen before and it’s charcoal-colored ink sealed the deal for me. It was a great choice and souvenir for less than €3.

Google around to see if there’s a particular method/type of handmade sketchbook that’s right for you – there are a ton of tutorials on the web and Youtube. Or, follow these links: DIY Sketchbook & DIY Binding for a pretty comprehensive overview of the process and binding technique. The bottom line (and beauty) of this method is it’s completely flexible so you can adapt your book to your own particular needs.

Finally, here’s a taste of how I filled the sketchbook that I brought to the Netherlands and Belgium..

Traveling Shoes ©2019 Elizabeth Fram, 7 x 6 inches, Ink on paper. Note that this and the above drawing are on toned paper, while the one below has deckle edges. Variety is the beauty of a DIY sketchbook.

Art is in the Details

Before I began my journey with shibori, arriving at the point of personally dyeing all the silk used in my work, I regularly visited fabric stores to restock my palette. Rarely was I looking for anything in particular. Rather, I would just choose whatever “spoke” to me at the time, knowing at some point each selection would be just the right thing to fill some gap in a future piece.

Unwrapping my spoils after these outings, it was always amusing to see how beautifully those random choices worked together — often in unexpectedly delightful ways — despite the fact that there was no intent to ever use them side-by-side.

The Brugge coat of arms on the City Hall. The golden lion represents Belgium, the brown Bear represents the city of Brugge. The shield is the flag of Flanders.

In many ways, the images I capture when we travel have the same effect. Subconsciously, a theme of sorts will invariably surface. I’ve learned that once I become aware of what that subject may be, it lends a new sense of attention overall and, to some degree, the flavor of a scavenger hunt to the rest of the trip.

Our recent journey to Belgium was no exception. The fine craftsmanship and acute eye for detail, hallmarks of the country’s aesthetic throughout the centuries, made for a visual feast. What follows is a categorized sampling of the intricacies that caught my eye.

Lace
Although we didn’t make it to the Lace Museum, it was fun to see the influence of lace in unexpected places.

This example of a loosely woven bag metamorphosizing into lace intrigued me for it’s modern take on the medium, as well as its unusual colors.

There isn’t a much more iconic site in the Flemish world than a windmill. But in this instance I was more interested in the fence. Zoom in and look closely to see the lace pattern woven among the chain links.

There was a wonderful, life-size, hand-carved wooden sculpture of a quartet at the Musical Instrument Museum in Brussels. But it was the violinist that caught my eye.

Look closely

Lace!

Chocolate
With a shop on virtually every corner, we did our fair share of sampling. Some of the creations seemed almost too pretty to eat, but we got over that silliness in no time.

There is something for every interest…

Death by chocolate never looked as sweet

Even the boxed chocolates were like jewels. These are from Pierre Marcolini

The chocolates made by Galler were among my favorites, if there could be such a thing. I never had a chance to go back to ask about this architectural detail above their window. It looks old, but maybe not? There is definitely something on her tongue, but from the look on her face, it couldn’t possibly be a Galler chocolate — unless she just realized it’s the last one.

Dogs
It didn’t take long for the pooch-lover in me to notice that dogs are a valued part of the Belgian family, both now and in the past. We saw plenty of the live version out and about with their owners — in shops, restaurants, and generally on the streets. But I was also delighted to notice that they are well represented in museums, government buildings, and in advertisements.

Lush fabrics and a pampered pet in a Biblical allegorical painting

Housed upstairs in the Museum Arentshuis are the paintings and drawings of artist Frank Brangwyn. His drawings were particularly lovely. Note that he didn’t neglect the two dogs that joined the festivities in this quick sketch of the opening of the Brangwyn Museum (now Museum Arentshuis) in 1936.

Brugge’s Stadhuis (City Hall) is spectacular. Its vaulted Gothic Hall is a masterpiece of intricate architectural carvings and 19th century murals. The murals painted around the perimeter of the cavernous room by Albrecht De Vriendt depict the history of Brugge and Flanders, but not without the appearance of several Great Danes, as seen in the center foreground of this example.

A dog caps the tower atop the Damme town hall

I guess it’s never been unusual for dogs to accompany their owners to shops, as shown in this larger-than-life relief advertising shoe repair, carved by Antoine Vriens c.1935.

Frank Brangwyn’s painting The Afflicted Ones from 1923 demonstrates it isn’t only humans who suffer during difficult times.

Having lived with and loved two Greater Swiss Mountain dogs, it was a treat to find this Swissie hiding under the table in a painting at the Musées royaux des Beaux-Arts in Brussels.

And, to bring this to a close, what dog could be more Belgian than Tintin’s companion Snowy?

The next time you travel, consider finding some sort of “theme” to be on the lookout for. It’s remarkable what you’ll discover that you might not otherwise have noticed.
With that in mind, I have to chuckle at this caution from publisher and author William Feather (1889-1981)… “Beware the person who won’t be bothered with details.”

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I recently discovered James Clear’s (author of Atomic Habits) 3-2-1 Thursday newsletter which consists of 3 ideas, 2 quotes, and 1 question. It’s food for thought that makes the week a bit richer.

2019 Rijswijk Textile Biennial

How wonderful to have had the privilege of traveling to Rijswijk, Netherlands last week to view the 2019 Textile Biennial at Museum Rijswijk. Since then, knowing I’d want to recap the experience here, I’ve been trying to think how best to describe the exhibit. Words just don’t seem to adequately convey its full impact and impressive scope, so pictures will have to do.

Museum Rijswijk Note the bike parked to the left of the entrance, complete with front-end child carrier…a ubiquitous sight.

The museum is housed in a beautiful c.1790 mansion, saved and restored by the town of Rijswijk after realizing that the 1950s’ eye to modernization, which resulted in the wholesale demolition of many historic buildings, may have taken things a step too far. A beautiful modern annex was added in 2012.
The museum’s permanent collection consists of paintings, drawings, and prints by Rijswijk artists, dating from the 17th century to the present.

The biennial was woven throughout the museum, at times integrating pieces from the exhibit alongside work from the permanent collection, as the photo above illustrates.

I am quite fond of winter imagery, so was pleased to find Alone Together and Respite nestled, so to speak, in the snow.

Espresso & Peanut Butter between bouquets

Laurence James Bailey’s work appears in the center panel

An upstairs gallery

Mirjam Kruisselbrink, foreground; Kata Unger, left; Katherine Entis, right

My fourth piece, Poseidon’s Garden

Mirjam Kruisselbrink, foreground/left; Elizabeth Fram, center; David B. Smith, right

Josefina Concha

Josefina Concha again. I was so taken with her work that I had to share another of her installations.

Kayla Mattes

Kristine Fornes

Ana Teresa Barboza

Anna Astapova

Lawrence James Bailey

Lia de Jonghe

Monika Supé

Mark Newport

Noora Schroderus

Nigel Cheney, far left; Paul Yore, middle left; Ana Astapova, middle right; Marianne Thoermer, far right; Higi Jung, foreground

Kata Unger, left; Max Colby on pedestal; Bhakti Ziek, right

A head-on shot of Bhakti’s lovely series. It was such a treat that there were two of us from Vermont in this show.

Higi Jung

Max Colby

Nigel Cheney

Paula do Prado

Paul Yore

Each artist had numerous pieces in the show. I’ve done my best to see that everyone is represented at least once in these photos. But that said, these images barely scratch the surface of the impressive whole. What an honor it was to have been included.

The lovely catalog includes an essay on each artist accompanied with photos of their work

Technical Trenches

If only my days were just drawing and stitching!

This past week I have spent way too much time on the phone with my server, trying to get things straightened around so that I can once again set up automatic delivery of my weekly blog posts to your inboxes. Let’s just say it hasn’t been fun, and I surely hope that with perseverance I’ll get it figured out one way or another. I guess the upside is that I’m learning digital technicalities that I never bargained on…although it’s all very superficial and, frankly, there are ways I’d much rather spend my time.

Scott ©2019 Elizabeth Fram, 18 x 23 inches, Graphite and colored pencil on paper. Love this paper – Canson Edition. It has both a rough and a smooth side to choose from. This is the smooth side. It takes varying pressures of line beautifully and erases cleanly. It also picks up color easily.

In the meantime, these images will give you a taste of what I’ve been doing both textile and drawing-wise. It goes without saying that I’ve been grateful for any and all work that gets me away from the computer!

Making progress on this latest…

On the brighter side, consider a visit to the The Grange Hall Cultural Center this month to see their new exhibit Body Beautiful which runs through October 12th. Two of my life drawings are included — a first for me since I haven’t shown any of them publicly yet, except here at Eye of the Needle.

And finally, because it’s always a treat to be inspired by the natural world, take a look at @pottersarms on Instagram for photos of such color and lyricism that they will at times take your breath away. Keep scrolling for her magnificent photos of flowers, both alive and dead.

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I’m looking forward to heading to The Netherlands soon to finally see the 2019 Textile Biennial at the Rijswijk Museum. It’s been a long wait. I was overjoyed to learn that both Alone Together and Respite will be remaining in that part of the world with their new owners!

The Missing Ingredient

It’s been a frustrating week with this latest piece. In my effort to get it off the ground, the easiest (and most fun) part — aside from initially making the stitched-resist arches — was going to my favorite thread store to choose colors.* But doing that was a bit like having dessert first, and everything beyond that step has been an ongoing struggle.

Thread Choices

My first problem has been size. The chess pawns that will appear in the background are so small that it took me until Wednesday to figure out how best to stitch them so that they didn’t just look like amorphous blobs, completely losing their definition once one stepped back from the piece.

The second issue has been color. It should be a no-brainer to stick with light-valued thread so that the image has contrast and definition against a background of red and black squares. But the pawns on this side of the piece are going to be black, and I quickly discovered that simply using black thread not only zapped all the life out of them, but they soon became lost in their equally dark background.

I had hoped to keep things simple with just a running stitch outline. But it was too simple, and though I don’t have a picture, once I stitched in black behind this pawn, it became completely lost.

It took me a while to figure it out, but compromise was the missing ingredient. All week I’ve been trying different stitch patterns and different colors, wondering how in the world I was going to get these pieces to sit confidently in their red and black background while conveying that they are the darker half of the chess set.

Another failed attempt – but I’m getting closer by branching out to other colors.

The answer is twofold: artistic license and letting go.
Using a deep blue, which has more richness than mere black, has been both an escape hatch and my saving grace. Pairing it with a variety of other colors has allowed me to make a stab at fine-tuning the definition of a pawn, breathing some life into this tricky part of the image while still conveying the impression that these are the darker pieces of the chess set. The other solution is to let the red dye stand in for the red squares and only stitch the darker squares. Why bother to restate the obvious?

Here is my solution after countless stitched and re-stitched attempts.

I’ve only just begun, but it feels like I’m finally on my way. Time to leave this hurdle behind me in order to get ready for the next one.

*The Wooden Needle in Stowe, VT has a vast selection and variety of beautiful threads. It is really worth a trip if you’re in our area.

The Value of Nothing

I have just redone my website — please go check it out. Without a doubt, it took way longer to accomplish than expected but, ultimately, the project has been a positive instance of how taking a step back can help to sharpen one’s focus.

Concurrently and fortuitously, I’ve been slowly making my way through Jenny Odell’s How to Do Nothing — a gift from someone I admire, not least for the way she controls the technology in her life rather than it controlling her. It’s a dense read for me so I am absorbing it in small increments, but I am impressed by its message of resistance against the reality of 24/7 connectivity and data production.

The gist of what Odell has to share is that one can thoughtfully resist, not by doing anything specific, but by simply being present in our environment. She maintains that “only (by being) in regular contact with the tangible ground and sky can we learn how to orient and to navigate in the multiple dimensions that now claim us”, which in turn is a way to find relief from the chaos and anxiety that have become a business model for the so-called attention economy.

Showing this image is a bit like thinking out loud. I rarely plan so much in advance before beginning to stitch, let alone show a working drawing like this. But, as I’ve begun to move ahead, this piece it isn’t materializing at all in the way I’d hoped, and I’m not sure yet how I’m going to dig myself out from the ditch I’ve landed in. There is going to be a lot of trial and error in my future. Yet, it’s just as important to share the challenging underside of making art as it is the successes, as the finished product is only a small fraction of the adventure.

Redoing my website has been something of a necessary evil that has cost a lot of time at the computer as I learn and adapt to new software. But the greater lesson of the experience has surfaced through the act of tweaking my various statements and in uploading new images. Via that exercise I’ve become keenly aware that, while not consciously intended as such, my work is also a quiet form of resistance. The making of it and the end result is an “under the radar” place of refuge, a slow and methodical means of centering on small things that have the potential to carry significance if one is of a mind to see them from that perspective.

Coincidentally, while I was digesting the overlap between Odell’s thoughts and my own, photographer Michelle Saffran’s seasonal studio newsletter arrived. In it, Michelle writes very eloquently about elements of her process as they’ve been unfolding lately. And, as you will see, her queries streamline seamlessly with Odell’s observations and my own inclination toward finding beauty in what might be overlooked as ordinary.

Michelle has given me permission to share her words with you here and I hope they hold as much meaning for you as they do for me. Please visit her website to see examples of her striking work.

Over the last year or more I have been walking the land, smaller than an acre, around my house and photographing whatever I notice. I wander without agenda, during all seasons, times of day and weather conditions. Often I am drawn outside by shifts of color from the waning sun or from an overhead bank of storm clouds. Other times I head outside because I want to see – see what? I’m not sure. The area is as familiar to me as my own face yet each time I approach it I see something new. There is something unexpected that comes from the routine of looking at the same thing over a protracted period of time. I wonder about the meaning of this work and why it is important to me. It does seem important, even if I don’t have the words to say why. The images that emerge from this act of walking and looking mean more than recording a specific piece of land. Yet when I try and pin down a purpose to this work my mind scrambles and can’t hold onto thoughts, something just beyond my consciousness is driving me. I can’t quite put my finger on it. ~Michelle Saffran

Back to School

It’s that time of year again.
And while not formally, in my own way I too have gone back to school in an effort to keep my drawing from getting too rusty while I wait for our life drawing sessions to start back up in September. The school I’m referring to is proko.com, a deep well of lessons, videos, demonstrations, and anatomy resources created by drawing instructor Stan Prokopenko. It’s a terrific source of solid information with the added advantage of bending to the convenience of my erratic schedule.

My goal has been to concentrate on hands, which I find one of the most challenging elements to draw. But, as I methodically make my way through promo.com’s free library of lessons that span from rock-bottom basics through figure drawing, portrait/head drawing, and the anatomy of the human figure, it’s quickly become obvious that rather than just polishing up some rough edges, I’ve only just begun to scratch the surface of the expanse of what I need to learn and the work I have ahead of me. It’s daunting, but it’s also very exciting and should keep me busy for a good long while if I stick with it.
For other resources on drawing hands, see this post.

The other thing I really wanted to accomplish during this time that our sessions are on hiatus is to experiment with different papers to see if there is one that stands out as most appealing to my sensibilities and style of drawing. The fact that the subject matter in these practice drawings is relatively repetitious has opened the door to discovering nuances of difference between the various papers I’ve selected. Key questions I’m keeping in mind are: is the paper hard or soft? can I lay down a very light line and still achieve a decent dark? how much will marks smudge? and is it possible to erase without damaging the surface of the paper? Another issue to address will be how each paper receives color, but I’m just going to worry about graphite for now.

If you’re interested, Prokopenko and fellow art instructor Marshall Vandruff have an amusing and enlightening podcast called Draftsmen that touches on a variety of drawing-related subjects.

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I love when the stars seem to align.
We visited the Museum of Fine Arts in Montreal last weekend and one of the first pieces I came across was Cuban artist Yoan Capote’s Abstinence (Freedom) from 2014. It was particularly resonate for obvious reasons.

The piece is quite moving for its meditation on questions of freedom and migration — bronze hand casts of anonymous migrant workers sequenced to spell in sign language the word “Libertad” (Liberty). It also drills home the inherent expressiveness of hands, and in turn their capability to stand in for us as individuals. Capote describes the work as a “metaphor about the absence of voice or the incapacity of decision of common people in front of different aspects of society”.

Abstinence (Freedom), detail, Yoan Capote

Abstinence (Freedom), detail, Yoan Capote

Quite a poignant statement, don’t you think?

One Thing Leads to Another

Alyson Stanfield > Beyond the Studio podcast > Andrew Simonet > Artists U > Making Your Life as an Artist

A huge thank you to Alyson Stanfield of Art Biz Success, who recently put out a call to her Facebook connections for recommendations of podcasts and audio books, and then shared the link to the responses with her newsletter subscribers. I felt like I’d won the lottery in unearthing this treasure trove of new (to me) artist-recommended podcasts to listen to and to learn from while I work. After subscribing to about a dozen(!) of them, I struck gold with the very first episode I heard.

Artists Amanda Adams and Nicole Mueller state that their mission for their podcast, Beyond the Studio, is to help figure out the business of being an artist by “div(ing) deep into the work that happens beyond the studio”. I went back to the beginning of their archives and listened to their inaugural bookclub episode with Andrew Simonet. Simonet was a moderately successful (his words, not mine) choreographer and theater director for more than 2 decades and has transitioned into becoming an author as well. He knows something about the challenges of creative work.

Pennsylvania Peach ©2019 Elizabeth Fram, Ink and colored pencil on paper, 11 x 8.5 inches Like colors seem to have a way of seeking each other out. The cover of this recent issue of Art & Antiques magazine could have been designed to pair with this peach at its peak ripeness and the cheerful summer napkin that kept its juice off my chin as soon as this drawing was finished.

Along the way, he founded Artists U which is based in Philadelphia and is “an incubator for changing the working conditions of artists”. The goal of Artists U is to help artists build a sustainable life and practice. I encourage you to go to the site to read more about them, and then, without delay, download the free book and workbook Making Your Life as an Artist. I don’t care what discipline you work in, this is one of the best, short reads/resources for moving forward with your work that I have come across to date.

One thing definitely leads to another, and the generosity of information-sharing lifts us all.
So with that in mind…pass it on!

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This week My First Peony made its way back from it’s 3+ year stint at the US Embassy in Riga, Latvia, where it was part of the Art in Embassies program. It came back in perfect condition, wrapped exactly as instructed (an occurrence that, unfortunately, rarely happens when work returns from venues far and wide). I feel privileged, especially at this point in history, to be a part of a program that values artwork for its ambassadorial capacity.
If only this piece could talk…