Category Archives: Textiles and Drawings

Tell Me Again

Occasionally a poem is just right.
I eagerly recommend Mary Oliver’s 2013 compilation, Dog Songs, to any pooch lover — especially anyone who has had the honor of sharing their heart with a rescue.

Feb 23

Here the poet herself reads one of my favorites: Little Dog’s Rhapsody in the Night.

Which of course reminds me of our Quinn.

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I just discovered Hilary Pecis‘ work. Orchestrating the ordinary into the lyrical, her paintings are bouquets of pattern, color, and familiarity. Her work encourages a recognition of our own individual worlds through the expression of hers. To me, the unexpected prominence of books in many of her pieces, appearing in neat stacks or filling walls of shelves in the background, add to the comfortable sense of “home”. As Tamsin Smith and Matt Gonzalez wrote in their October 25, 2018 review of Pacis’ work for Juxtapoz “…beauty is a matter of looking closely. It is the eye, not the object, that holds the power.”
I couldn’t agree more.

Bird’s Eye View

It’s a sure sign that winter is waning when the warning for Town Meeting appears.

Town Meeting Sketch 1

Each year, the first Tuesday of March brings us all out of hibernation and back into the folds of community. Town Meeting Day is set aside for every municipality in Vermont to come together in order to vote on budget items, to elect local officials, and to discuss town business. It is a venerated civic tradition that has been going strong for more than 200 years, and it demonstrates democracy at its finest.

Town Meeting 2

Aside from those attributes, I love the opportunity to sit up in the balcony of our primary school gym, listening to the discussion and voting “from the floor”, while drawing a vast array of the community members sitting below. Being up high skews my perspective to some degree, but it works to my advantage as I can see a lot more than just the backs of heads.

Town Meeting 3

Unlike airports, where everyone seems to have have their neck bent and head bowed toward their phone, people at Town Meeting are engaged — paying attention to the speakers and select board, or chatting with their neighbor. Within the crowd there were quite a few knitters, children playing quietly near their parents, and a sign language interpreter. So, lots to look at and to think about in attempting to capture an image.

Town Meeting 4

The added advantage is I can happily sketch for as long as I want without calling attention to myself or making anyone feel uncomfortable or self-conscious. It’s a wonderful forum for practice; too bad it only comes around once a year.

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Many thanks to my good friend and fellow artist, Dianne Shullenberger, who alerted me to Sketchbook Vol. 1, an exhibition of 14 contemporary artists’ sketchbooks at Sugarlift in Long Island City, NY. The work is mind-blowing; check out the particulars here and here. You can follow-up by visiting websites or Instagram accounts to see more of each artist’s amazing work.

SF MoMA, Part 2

There’s something to be said for visiting a museum with an agenda in mind, and yet wandering from gallery to gallery, exploring as the spirit moves, can be just as rewarding. A couple of weeks ago, with my pilgrimage to Wayne Thiebaud’s paintings and drawings securely under my belt, I had the remainder of the afternoon to roam freely throughout the rest of the museum.

Looking back through the pictures I took, these are the pieces that stood out.

#1 Rope ©Jackie Winsor, 1976 , Wood and hemp

Jackie Winsor, born in St. John’s, Newfoundland, is descended from a long line of Canadian ships’ captains and farmers. One might infer from her choice of materials (wood and hemp), that her family’s history has had a strong influence on her work.

The repetition of spheres and verticals in this piece leave me feeling of grounded, its form projecting a sense of steadiness and reliability. Contrasted with its shadow which, to my eye, somehow reads as almost whimsical, I couldn’t help but think of cartoons where a figure’s shadow projects a different personality from the character itself.

Geoffrey Hendricks and Brian ©Alice Neel, 1978 , Oil on canvas

Alice Neel, detail

Looking at portraits has become a more nuanced experience since I started regularly attending life drawing sessions, 14 months ago. This Alice Neel portrait of Geoffrey Hendricks and his partner Brian first grabbed me with the comfortable sense of familiarity it radiates. Looking more closely, it is the wonderful halo of green surrounding each man’s head and the general use of color overall that locks me in place.

Untitled ©James Weeks, 1953, Oil on canvas

This piece by James Weeks, also a force of pure color, is such a beautiful and exuberant expression of abstraction via shape and composition. I love the way the colors around the edges are channeled into and through the figures, keeping your eyes swirling throughout the painting the way I imagine the music of these musicians is filling the room where they play. Still, the composition remains firmly balanced by the strong verticals and horizontals, an assertive structure that holds the piece together.

Noel in the Kitchen ©Joan Brown, ca. 1964 , Oil on canvas

Joan Brown’s work is not delicate or subtle. The paint is built up so thickly and unevenly that this painting is as much a tactile experience as a visual one. What a perfect expression of the early years of motherhood: messy, loud, and unpredictable. Yet it also stirs a tenderness of memory for those of us who have seen this sight, or something quite similar, in our own kitchens.

Spider ©Louise Bourgeois, 2003 , Stainless steel and tapestry

I was happy to get to the top floor to see the grouping of Louise Bourgeois’ spiders. This example that inserts an element of empathy by including a human form comprised of tapestry, was especially resonant. Enjoy what Bourgeois has to say about her work in this short video.

I am quite taken with Cloth Lullaby, an illustrated biography of Bourgeois, written for children. This year I would very much like to read an account of her life meant for adults. There are so many Bourgeois biographies available that it’s hard to choose. Can any of you recommend one that you thought was particularly good?

Fire ©Teresita Fernández, 2005, Silk, steel, and epoxy

Of all the wonderful work I saw, there was one piece that stands out. Looking up from Thiebaud’s work to the next gallery, this view took my breath away. This piece has a presence that is absolutely spectacular. If you can spare three minutes, this wonderful museum video provides insight into the work and its origin.

Fire ©Teresita Fernández, 2005

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Finally, seeking out bookstores is an important part of any trip, don’t you think? If you have time to spare while in the neighborhood, there are two that are well-worth a visit within a stone’s throw of the SF MoMA.

I couldn’t resist this wonderful little book. As I suspect is also true of Alexander Book Company where I found it, you can dip in and out of this book and still find something new each time you crack it open.

And for contemporary art books, don’t miss 871 Fine Arts on Hawthorne Street, an establishment that carries only art books — thousands of them. It has an adjoining gallery as well. Complete the triangle with a visit to the MoMA’s bookstore, and I guarantee your inner bibliophile will end the day fully satisfied.

Golden Gate Art, Part 1

I didn’t realize it at the time, but the back-end advantage to the relatively nomadic life my husband and I lived during our first decade of marriage is that we now have a handful of very special places (and people) to revisit across the country.

Untitled (Neapolitan Pie) ©Wayne Thiebaud, ca.1990, Pastel and graphite on paper

Untitled (Two Ice Cream Scoops on Plate) ©Wayne Thiebaud, ca. 1985, Watercolor and graphite on paper

Over the years, my artistic sensibilities were unquestionably influenced by the various places we’ve lived, as well as by many of the artists who are iconic to those locales. At one point or another I’ve called Maine, Washington, Virginia, California, Hawaii, Pennsylvania, and Vermont home, and I’ve collected my fair share of artistic heroes along the way.

Untitled (Bakery Case) ©Wayne Thiebaud, ca.1963, Felt-tip pen on paper

Untitled (Bakery Case with Wedding Cake) ©Wayne Thiebaud, ca. 1963, Felt-tip pen on paper In 1962 Thiebaud stated, “At present, I am painting still lifes take from window displays, store counters, supermarket shelves, and mass-produced items from manufacturing concerns in America.” Responding to the postwar manufacturing boom, commercial developments such as the Nut Tree along U.S. Route 80 offered unprecedented visual experiences surrounding the ritual of food, including seductive confectionary cases like those seen here. Although a wedding cake seems to promise fulfillment, the lack of human presence evokes a sense of emptiness.

Wayne Thiebaud is right up there at the top of my list, so I have been looking forward to seeing the current exhibit of his drawings and paintings at San Francisco MoMA for months. It was a thrill to finally get there last week.

©Wayne Thiebaud, Untitled sketches, Ink on paper

©Wayne Thiebaud, Untitled Sketches, Ink on paper

Pairing Thibaud’s work with the companion exhibit “Artist’s Choice” (pieces from the Museum’s collection that Thiebaud hand-selected himself) rounded out the experience beautifully. Each painting in this concurrent exhibit is tagged with Thiebaud’s notations, providing not only a window into his thought process in choosing a particular piece, but presumably identifying various factors that contribute to the way he approaches his own work as well. They are words of wisdom from a teacher I wish I had had.

Orange Sweater Elmer Bischoff ©1955, Oil on canvas Thiebaud notes: “You can almost feel, since it’s a library, that it’s a very quiet place. Beautiful light coming in from several directions. There is a nice color relationship between the green and the little tiny bit of orange shadow over her sweater. But it’s also a very good geometric abstraction: the way those horizontals and verticals work and that terrific angle. This is really beautiful — the way this pattern of light coming down from the top and across in a nice L-shape forms one illumination.”

Jockey James Weeks ©1962, Tempera on Board Thiebaud: “Isn’t that sweet? This marvelous intuitive placement where this little white structure holds the whole thing beautifully centered. His paintings are normally big – or the ones I knew him for. He went back East at one point, back to Boston. But he was here, it seems to me, with some power and some effect.”

Scéne due rue (Street Scene) Pablo Picasso ©1900, Oil on Canvas Note: Picasso reused a canvas for this painting. Just beneath the surface is a cancan scene. Thiebaud: “Well, he sure settled that down. His mother must’ve been overseeing it. He’s such a strange fellow but this feels so authentic and so real. I’ve had a long, long association with it. I think I made some drawings of it.”

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And while it’s fun to return to old haunts when going back to a former home, the lure of discovering something new can be even more enticing. With a bit of pre-trip research, I discovered the San Francisco School of Needlework and Design, a non-profit organization devoted to preserving and promoting the traditions of hand embroidery and bringing a modern creativity to an ancient art form.

Lucy and Annalee of the SF School of Needlework and Design

Conveniently located on the north side of Union Square, I was warmly welcomed by Program Director, Lucy Barter and Director of Community Engagement, Annalee Levin, who shared the wide scope of what SF SNAD offers: classes, lectures, exhibitions, an extensive library, a shop with supplies, and free weekly stitch-ins that are open to all). It’s an enviable resource; be sure to check their events calendar and stop in the next time you’re in the Bay Area.

SNAD’s library contains over 3000 titles, including an antiquarian collection.

And, if you are an embroiderer, consider contributing to their ongoing “World’s Longest Band Sampler Project”. Full information on their website.

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Lastly, a hearty thanks to those of you who have been hanging in with me (and the octopus) for the past weeks. Thousands of stitches later, it’s finally finished.
Here’s a taste of how far we’ve come.

January 8, 2019, in process, Silk thread on raw silk

And now, I’m ready to move on.
More from San Francisco next week.

The Wisdom of Orchids and Octopuses

I had so hoped that this guy would be finished in time for this week’s post, but it’s been too short a week in the studio and I’m just not quite there yet. You will see the reason for this next week, but in the meantime, I’m reassured by some unexpected wisdom, surprisingly learned from my five orchids.

In process © Elizabeth Fram

It wasn’t until we moved to Vermont that I could even keep an orchid alive. I’m sure a good part of that new-found luck is due to the wonderful light we have in this house. Because they seem to be happy in this environment, I’ve been able to watch my orchids pass through several cycles of their various stages of growth.

In process © Elizabeth Fram

I guess you can find a parallel for anything if you take the time to notice. As I was watering said beauties on Sunday, fretting about how little time I would have in the following days to finish up this piece, it occurred to me while looking at the tiny buds that will gradually develop into a spray of beautiful, long-lasting blooms, that there is much to be valued in things that evolve slowly.

In process © Elizabeth Fram

Too often we’re in a rush to get “there” — for the art to be finished, for the flower to bloom — rather than savoring measured growth by relaxing into the various layers of process along the way. But there’s no hurrying with an orchid; it isn’t in a hurry to arrive, and it isn’t in a hurry to leave, which is another characteristic that makes it so special.

Hindsight is teaching me that unless there is a looming deadline, it is often best in the long run when circumstances are such that I can’t charge ahead full-speed. Forced “intermissions” provide time for reflection and the distance necessary to see aspects of a piece I might otherwise have missed.

Orchid

So with that in mind, I’m easing up on any negative sense that I am lagging behind on this piece and instead am learning to embrace the deliberate advantages to be found when things unfold more slowly.

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I’ve been so happy to see that Susan Abbott is posting to her Painting Notes blog weekly. Her posts are a wonderful combination of art history, art theory, personal studio experiences and gorgeous art — her own and that of a multitude of masters. Susan’s teaching skills (which I happily benefitted from in a sketchbook workshop last fall) shine through in her writing. Without being didactic, she shares her wide knowledge while humbly managing to sprinkle in plenty about the challenges she regularly faces as she works. It’s a great reminder that we’re all in the same boat. I guarantee you’ll not only be inspired, but you’ll walk away feeling all the richer for what you have learned.

Two-fer

If you’ve been paying attention to my sketches and what I’ve written about them over the past several years, it won’t surprise you that I think a lot about composition. It’s the glue that holds all other elements together, as well as contributing an accessible pathway toward new discoveries.

Hiding ©2019 Elizabeth Fram, 11 x 8.5 inches, Ink and colored pencil on paper. If you haven’t been following my sketches, you might not realize that lump in the background is Quinn, snuggled up in her bed at one end of the sofa.

Lately I’ve been playing around with the idea of including two focal points within a composition. My first stab at this approach was serendipitous, not intentional. Initially I just wanted to record a fading candy-striped amaryllis, but it soon became apparent that the flowers didn’t hold enough weight on their own for the drawing to feel complete. The decision to bring Quinn into the background not only added much-needed muscle, but by limiting color to within the amaryllis alone, an interesting tension arose between the foreground and the background.

Thinking about that sketch afterward, and the way its various elements came together, made me realize there is something deeper to be mined in a drawing that balances two subjects. And, by including a bit of healthy competition between color (as an entity unto itself) and pattern (or marks), I think the overall effect has the potential to become even more compelling.

Frida Twins ©2019 Elizabeth Fram, 18 x 24 inches, Graphite and colored pencil on paper. One of our regular models occasionally brings her twin sister to sit with her. This day they were both fully decked-out as Frida Kahlo, and drawing them from this angle became my “aha” moment.

It was pure luck that we had two models instead of just one at life drawing a couple of weeks ago. That session, on the heels of the first sketch with Quinn and the ones that followed it, cemented the idea that this is an approach I should investigate further.

Alexis Too ©2019 Elizabeth Fram, 18 x 24 inches, Graphite on paper This week, looking beyond our model, I experimented with including another member of our group. The fact that she was concentrating so deeply made it easier to capture her. The contrast between the more detailed figure and the sketchy one make for a more interesting drawing, I think.

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I really enjoyed discovering Kate Park’s work and website this week. Maybe you will too.

Pleasure and Privilege

Making art is something of a ‘Get Out Of Jail Free’ card.

Yes, the stripped down beauty of a snowy landscape has a unique subtlety that many of us who choose to live where winter is serious business appreciate and even relish. But that doesn’t mean we don’t sometimes miss the full-blown colors of our gardens and of the local countryside that currently lie dormant under a blanket of snow.

©Elizabeth Fram Mid-process

There is rich privilege in being immersed in color every day via drawing or stitching or dyeing. It’s an advantage I don’t take for granted. And perhaps for just this reason, I find the current phase of this piece – defining the octopus with color – the most enjoyable of all the various steps that have led up to it.

Do you remember the color theory exercises comparing two colors that seem completely different, but which are actually identical? The point being that their appearance is drastically affected by the color surrounding them. For an example of this phenomenon, check this out. That’s one of the key factors that brings so much pleasure to this current process of fleshing out the image. Each stitch is influenced by the color of its neighbors, as well as by the varying shades of the dyed silk ground it is sewn upon. That interaction creates a visual richness that at times seems almost melodic.

It’s a fascinating process and somewhat addictive. I have to set a timer to remind myself to stop and get up to stretch because I get so lost in the rhythm of stitching and the desire to see how new interactions between colors will evolve. The wonderful bonus is that it’s also a great way to guard against any feelings of color deprivation that can often be mid-winter’s calling card.

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How is a parterre like a patisserie?

I’ve begun watching Monty Don’s 3-part series Gardens of France. Drawing a parallel between the 17th century gardens of André Le Nôtre, creator of the gardens of Versailles, and rows of glistening pastries under glass, Don acknowledges a French cultural love of formality that lends a sense of order and harmony and balance, coupled with refinement. Admittedly, what I’m seeing in the gardens he is touring and in the display case of Carette at Place des Vosges, is a far cry from my relatively undisciplined flower beds and humble cookie creations, but the spirit of both are equally inspiring on a chilly winter day.

June in our back garden: azaleas, early phlox, and one of my favorites – American umbrellaleaf or Diphylleia cymosa, whose white flowers transform into blue/black berries on bright red stalks, and whose leaves become a beautiful mix of burgundy and gold toward the end of the summer.

Isn’t it wonderful how culture and even national sensibilities squeeze beyond the boundaries of a given discipline, surfacing in the arts and daily life?

Book Report

One of my aims this year is to read more about and by female artists. So far, I’m off to a decent start with 2019’s first two selections under my belt: Nell Painter’s Old in Art School: A Memoir of Starting Over and Devotion by Patti Smith. It was pure luck, but they read surprisingly well in tandem with each other.

Nell Painter is a lauded historian with a remarkable list of accomplishments to her credit: Princeton professorship, honorary doctorates from the Ivy League and beyond, presidencies of professional organizations, and author of eight books. At the age of 64 she decided to retire from Princeton and to go to art school where she achieved a BFA from Mason Gross School of the Arts at Rutgers, followed by an MFA from RISD.

There are many levels to Painter’s book, too many to delve into in any depth here. But trust me, you will find it rewarding for its honesty as it cracks open the quandaries of art school, the ensuing struggles Painter encountered, and finally, the enriching wisdom and satisfaction she discovered.

Painter was used to navigating the world as a woman and as a black person, yet adding the element of being seen – and at times not seen – because of her age, caught her by surprise. In many ways that issue was the defining fact of her experience, begetting this book.

Her discussion of coming to terms with viewing and making art with “20th-century eyes”, in a program where her fellow students and her teachers were looking through 21st-century eyes, was very enlightening for me. I too struggle to appreciate and understand cutting-edge work and methods, finding comfort and familiarity in formalism. I am all the more convinced in reading Painter’s memoir of the need for artists and curators to write and talk coherently about changes in philosophy, making new thinking accessible to all, assuring we stay in the loop as ideas evolve.

Katharine ©2019 Elizabeth Fram, 24 x 18 inches, Graphite and Verithin pencil on paper I am playing with adding color sparingly, hoping for a spark of life without interfering with the sense of line I’ve established. Verithin pencils are very hard and, unlike most colored pencils, allow me to carry this idea forward with crisp, discernible marks.

A subject that struck a chord for me was Painter’s in-depth acknowledgement of the soul-crushing difference, understood by her professors and all in her graduate class, between being an artist (small letters) and An Artist (proper noun). It was a distinction she hadn’t known existed before matriculating, but one which strongly impacted the level of respect afforded her and her work, as well as the opportunities (or more accurately, lack of opportunities) that came her way. “An Artist” is one who willingly sacrifices everything for her art, unable to let anyone or anything step between her and her vision/work. This was a commitment Painter was, and is, unwilling to make.

She muses on the subject:

“Serious artist? Yes. I make and show my work regularly.
Professional artist? Yes, I get paid for my work.
An Artist artist? Probably not, probably never, because I still do other things.”

I am sharply reminded of the easy dismissal and lack of guidance I experienced from my college art advisor (at a liberal arts school, for heavens sake!) who felt that my ongoing interests in other subjects disqualified me from meriting his full tutelage. From my now much older vantage point, grateful for the experiences I didn’t miss, I still find it ridiculous that finely-tuned and perhaps artificial definitions dictate structures that can have such long-reaching and detrimental sway.

With that in mind, Patti Smith’s short and sweet Devotion also addresses the subject of being An Artist. Similar to her 2015 book M Train, Devotion opens a door into her process, allowing us to walk silently with her as she straddles the unseen line between a humbly “regular” creative life and the extraordinary advantages afforded her by virtue of her astoundingly wide knowledge, coupled with her fame. Sandwiched between her creative reflections is a jewel of a short story that articulates an intriguing definition of “An Artist”.

How fortuitous to have read these two books in succession!

In the beginning of her book Painter asks “Why would I want to go to art school?”
Answer: “The pursuit of pleasure. Concentrating on what I could see gave me intense pleasure, and seeing what I could make with my own hand and according to my own eye was even more satisfying. Mark making and mixing and applying color contented me deeply, just the very process of putting line on paper, brush on canvas. Art stopped time. Art exiled hunger. Art held off fatigue for what would have been hours as though hours hadn’t really passed. Pleasure. Satisfactions. Contentment.

Isn’t that exactly it, in a nutshell?

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The PBS Newshour did a short segment on Nell Painter and her book last year. As they often do, the segment finished with a quote: “Research shows that people creating art are 73% less likely to develop memory loss or dementia.” And, along the same lines, this recent New York Times article discusses how drawing offers a better way to remember things. Very encouraging on both counts!

Back to Normal

Things are starting to feel like normal again, now that all the holiday trimmings are packed away, the thank-you notes are written, and the extra cookies are safely frozen — out of sight and mind.

©2019 Elizabeth Fram It’s a big milestone passed once the general outline of the image is stitched in. Eventually this piece will be 18 x 24 inches; the rectangular area is 9 x 12 inches. (Not sure why there is a reddish tint to this photo – it’s a trick of the eye, not part of the work).

As I sit down to stitch this week, it feels like forever since I last had my needle in hand. This octopus piece, that was begun in early December, got sidelined when I ran out of silk thread and my local supplier was closed for an indeterminate amount of time. It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be to replace my depleted stock, but in case you’re ever in a similar predicament 123Stitch.com in Utah turns out to be a speedy and reliable vendor. Not exactly local, but great in a pinch. And, I certainly learned a valuable lesson about keeping one step ahead of my materials.

©2019 Elizabeth Fram This time around I’m making a concerted effort not to lay the stitches in too tightly, knowing that I will likely be restitching the whole thing once it’s been dyed in order to pull the image out from the dye.

Meanwhile, as December got fully underway, I began to realize that there are only so many balls one can have in the air at once. So this piece took a back seat while I gave in to holiday preparations. I still kept my head in the game though by reading The Soul of an Octopus by Sy Montgomery. It’s a fascinating book that has given me plenty to think about regarding these amazing creatures.

And once again, I’m grateful for my sketchbook because, despite all the other stuff going on, I could manage to squeeze time for drawing in around the corners of everything else. So December turned out to be a relatively productive month art-wise after all and, in hindsight, the change of pace was probably a good thing.

But now, in these expansive weeks of January, it feels great to be back to a normal routine and to start to see this fellow take form.

On A Different Note______________________________________________________________________________

I am honored that my piece “Crescendo” was featured in Alyson Stanfield’s Art Biz Success blog post on writing artist newsletters this week. I hope you will check out the post, not just to see my piece, but because, as usual, Alyson offers terrific ideas and tips. Over the years Alyson has been one of my best resources for learning about the business side of art. Aside from her blog, her book I’d Rather Be In The Studio is a must-read for any artist.

Reminder for subscribers: Despite best intentions, sometimes technical glitches occur. Last week was another of those times. FYI, I always publish my blog on Thursdays, and if all goes as planned, it is delivered at 4am the following day into subscriber inboxes. If, for whatever reason that automatic delivery hasn’t happened on a given Friday, I will send out another email with a link to the current post. Yet you can also always head directly to the site (https://elizabethfram.com/Blog) on your own. Thanks so much for your continued interest!

Green Mountain Generosity

Hard to believe, but 2019 marks 10 years since our nest emptied and my husband and I moved north. Relocating to Vermont was one of the best decisions we ever made.

It may be small and sparsely populated compared with most other states, but the people here are fiercely engaged — globally, nationally, and locally. That attribute has proven true – and then some – for the art community as well. It is a strong and vibrant force that, by the way, is fully supported by our congressional delegation who have continually gone to bat to maintain NEA funding, recognizing the importance of the arts to our economy and our well-being.

Amaryllis ©2018 Elizabeth Fram, 11 x 8.5 inches, Ink and colored pencil on paper One of my goals this year is to incorporate color into my sketches / drawings. Bear with me as I start to figure this out.

But above and beyond that, the generosity of many of the artists I have met here sets a tone I haven’t experienced in the other places we have lived, and that humbles and inspires me. In the decade that we’ve lived here, I’ve gotten to know some remarkable people whose commitment, not just to their own work, but to those of their fellow artists, is quite remarkable. There are numerous (too many for me to outline here) Vermont artists who, in my mind, lead the way by forging connections between their work, and/or the artwork of others, with the community beyond the art world, for the betterment of all.

All that said, I was particularly moved by the most recent newsletter from Barre painter Patricia Leahey Meriam. It underlines her devotion to her art beyond commerce as she fosters the indescribable connection we all seek between our work and those who view it — and hopefully want to live with it.

In addition to the many other hats she wears, Patty Meriam makes work that promotes environmental activism. Among other honors, it’s worth noting that last year she was inducted into the National Association of Women Artists. But beyond those distinctions, Patty has committed to donating 5% from the purchase price of her work to a cause of the buyer’s choice from a list of organizations that she also supports. Pretty remarkable!

But to get back to my main point, please read her newsletter The Joy of Giving, which goes one step further. It details how she set out to give away one work of art to someone who loved it but who felt it was beyond their fiscal reach, and ended up giving away six pieces. When you read the quotes from the request letters she received, you too will be moved by the power of art to truly affect lives and I think, like me, you will marvel at and find cheer in Patty’s benevolence.

On a different note:_______________________________________________________________________________

One of the final highlights of 2018 for me was learning that my work has been selected for the 2019 Textile Biennial at the Museum Rijswijk in Rijswijk, Holland. To give you a feel for what is in store, you can view 2017’s Biennial Exhibition here. Note that their website allows for translation into English.