Category Archives: Textiles and Drawings

White-on-White

It felt great this past week to get back to my embroidery frame and to begin a new stitched portrait. I had been casting around in the studio wondering who or what would be my next subject when, as so often happens, the answer appeared out of nowhere.

I start each piece by drawing the image directly on the silk. For those of you who are interested in such things, this is by far the best water soluble pen I have ever used. Other brands tend to dry out very quickly, but this one is going strong after almost a year. Part of this may be because the top snaps on quite tightly.

In an email from one of the many art organizations that regularly add to my inbox, I stumbled upon one artist’s brilliant observation in response to a general request for favorite art business lessons from 2021: what you create is “just the beginning”. On the surface that sounds so basic it’s almost silly, but when you stop to think about it, it’s pure gold.

This past week I have been making my way through the initial stage of the process: stitching the image with white silk thread on un-dyed raw silk. I tend to keep adding guidelines with the erasable pen as I go along. They act as a directional guide for the stitches, helping me to better describe the form I’m trying to represent.

She went on to clarify what a game-changer it was to realize that each piece she makes isn’t necessarily a one-off, merely to be archived, but rather just the first step in a continuum that builds upon itself.

In other words, pretty much everything we make creates a foothold for something else that will come later. In this instance, it was like a lightening bolt to realize that my quest for a subject was right here in my studio. I have a stack of pre-covid life drawings to pull from for this and maybe other portraits.

A variation in stitches distinguishes the hair from the facial features.

Whether sourcing drawings in my sketchbook, a particular stitch or dyeing technique used in the past, or some novel approach to layering various media together, every piece I make contributes something to my “toolbox” that I can reference in the future.

With the blue ink removed, the piece becomes a study in textures. The sheen of the silk thread is an important element that allows those textures to stand out. The next step will be to overlap the image with a dyed pattern. Come back in 2 weeks to see the progression.

The bottom line is none of the work we make exists in isolation, in fact, we just keep adding to our limitless creative bank accounts. And the beauty of that fact is they are always available to draw from when needed.

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Opening this week at Studio Place Arts: A world of portraits by 30 different artists, including yours truly.

Face It
January 26 – March 5, 2022
Studio Place Arts
201 N. Main Street
Barre, VT 05641

Gallery Hours: Wed – Fri: 11:30am – 5pm, Sat:11:30am – 4pm
Art Social: Saturday, February 19, 3:30 – 5pm (masks required) …..Hope to see you there!

Highs and Lows

If there is one word I feel best represents the month of January, it is “possibility”.
There’s much to be said for the mental high that comes with metaphorically flipping to a fresh page during the first weeks of each new year, don’t you agree?

In order to set that stage I’ve learned that, even though my to-do list in December is always overflowing, making time during the last month of the year to both reassess the past 12 months and to formulate a game plan for the next 12, pays off in spades come January. The resulting sense of a clear head is a treasured gift to myself.

Admittedly, it’s a bit of a regimented chore but, as one of my artistic heroes, painter Wayne Thiebaud, is quoted as saying: “Discipline is not a restriction but an aid to freedom”. I’ve come to realize that wisdom applies to all aspects of an art practice.

Hanger Diptych ©1986 Elizabeth Fram, Pastel on paper, 28 x 16.5 x 28 inches The images in this post reach pretty far back, which is obvious from the sketchy photos. In 1985-86 I began working with pastels, loving them as a source of saturated color. Having just moved out west, I soon discovered the work of Wayne Thiebaud and it became a huge inspiration, as is clearly evidenced in these ancient pieces.

Having put in the necessary work before the holidays, I can now move forward with a ready-made framework to lean upon that takes the guesswork out of where I’m headed in 2022. My mind is now freer and more receptive to the conceptual connections that are the meat of any creative practice…hence the feeling of possibility.

On a low note though, I was saddened to learn that Thiebaud died on December 25th at 101. It was his vibrant use of color that first grabbed me almost four decades ago, but my love affair with his work has remained constant ever since. As I’ve evolved as an artist, so have the lessons I’ve picked up from his work. Most recently I have been appreciating him for being, as his NYTimes obituary so aptly noted, “a virtuoso of the everyday and its deep, subtle symbolism”, — a subject that cuts close to my own artistic objectives.

I am envious of the students at UC Davis who had the opportunity to learn directly from him. Everything I’ve read and heard portrays him as a very generous teacher as well as a truly nice guy. It seems he worked through the highs and lows of his long career by always remaining true to himself and to his love of his work.
RIP Mr. Thiebaud, and thank you for your gifts which will continue to benefit us all.

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Two last notes before you go:

I’m so pleased to announce I now have a web shop up and running on my website. Please stop by and browse!
For now, the shop includes only the stitched-watercolor House & Garden series from this last summer, but I will be adding more pieces to it as the year progresses and time allows. That said, pretty much all my work is for sale if it hasn’t already sold, so please don’t hesitate to inquire if you’re interested in a piece you don’t see in the shop. Thank you!

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And finally, check out Glen Martin Taylor’s brilliant work. I know I’ll never look at a teacup or placesetting in quite the same way. @glenmartintaylor on Instagram.

Two Necessary Ingredients

I can’t think of a better way to end one year and to begin another than by acknowledging and giving thanks to the two constants of any art practice: the hard-to-define, yet oh-so-necessary element of “inspiration” – which (hopefully) hovers over one shoulder — accompanied on the other shoulder by its requisite companion, “hard work”. You can’t have one without the other, but the truth is, the former most reliably shows up as a result of the latter.

I will be thinking of both as I sit down this weekend to finish outlining my overall plan and goals for 2022. How about you?

3 Daughters of Maine ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and pencil on paper, 6 x 15 inches. Now that Christmas is past and the cat is officially out of the bag, I can share the portrait commission I was working on in Oct/Nov. Its significance to this post is that my dear friend, on the far right, exemplifies the essence of inspiration and hard work for many people. Especially those who look up to her in the running world, the state of Maine and beyond.

Below is a handful of the many guiding lights I’ve gleaned inspiration from this past year — some for their artwork, some for their business acumen, a few for both qualities. But without a doubt, hard work is an ingredient common to all. As my parting gift for 2021, I hope that one or two of these resources might prove insightful for you as well.

Lissa Hunter
Linda Clark Johnson
Gimena Romero
Maru Godas
Felix Scheinberger
Making it as a Maker – Rebecca Haas and Becca Webb
Anita Fields
Lois Dodd
Takahiko Hayashi
Joe Ciardiello
Pascale Simon
Tom McKendrick

Finally, I’ll sign off with a quote Lissa Hunter offered during a talk she gave last March — wise words from her former drawing instructor, Larry Thomas:

“Don’t look for something important to draw, make it important by drawing it.”

See you in two weeks…
Happy New Year!

State of Wonder

I’m always glad when a new American Craft comes out, but I feel the Winter 2022 issue, which surrounds the idea of “wonder”, covers an especially timely and even necessary topic. In the first sentence of her opening letter, Editor-in-Chief Karen Olson quotes Marian Bantjes: “We need wonder in order to keep moving and growing – to stay alive in the world”.

This began as merely an experiment to see whether or not the paper I was hoping to use would be able to stand up to stitching.

Solidifying that notion, Olson further states that wonder, as an entity, brings meaning to our lives and, further, makes us human. How true.
That sentiment is often brought to mind at this time of year but, in broader terms and considering world events, it is more important than ever to make an effort to incorporate wonder into our regular day-to-day throughout the full year.

One thing leads to another. Since the stitching seemed to work, why not add some paint?

On that note, I was quite taken by Deborah Bishop’s article within the magazine entitled “Metamorphosis”. It centers on the work of Melissa Meier, specifically her ongoing series called Skins. Using a variety of organic materials (moss, eggshells, grains of rice, popcorn, porcupine quills, etc.), Meier creates hauntingly beautiful garments which evoke fantastical beings. These creations simultaneously highlight Meier’s desire to convey both her sense of connection to nature and to the natural cycles of life and death. The inherent ephemeral quality of her pieces underline her point.

Walking at Martin Point Preserve in Friendship, Maine, we happened upon this little “shrine” just feet from the shore. The color of this bleached shell is so lovely and a wonderful contrast to the craggy seaweed. Obviously someone else was also taken with these gifts from the sea.

When I look at my list of potential future pieces in my fledgling Letters from Home series, I see a similar thread. The gifts of our natural surroundings often offer the strongest emotional representation of and connection with a time and/or place. How remarkably powerful that something as simple as as a hank of seaweed and a lobster claw shell, washed ashore and sun-bleached, carry with them the capacity to evoke memories that are central to what I think of as part of my core and my sense of belonging.

Unexpected Relic © 2021 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor, pencil and embroidery on paper, image size approx. 6″H x 5.5″W Thanks to my monthly critique group who encouraged me to follow through on my inclination not to fill in the envelope completely, instead leaving space for a viewer to mentally complete the flaps of the envelope themselves. I think it makes for a much more intriguing result.

As you move through these last weeks of December, may the wonder of your personal connection within the world and to those you care about bring you much joy and meaning. Wishing you very Happy Holidays and much gratitude for the time you spend here with me all year long.

Gathering Loose Threads Together

Several seemingly unrelated items have been swirling in my head since last time, their connections becoming more apparent as I write.

On a recent episode of the “A Brush With…” podcast, Ben Luke talks with Billie Zangewa, an artist who hand stitches imagery that straddles the line between the highly personal and decidedly universal. Having grown up in Botswana, now living and working in Johannesburg, South Africa, Zangewa’s goal is to challenge existing representations of Black women. Yet her brightly colored, intricate compositions of silk and stitching also explore overlooked aspects of many women’s lives (she refers to this as “daily feminism”). Her perspective is very relatable, especially to those who try to juggle a creative career with family and home life.

What I would have given to hear this podcast 20 years ago when I was always on the lookout for mentors who were able to balance motherhood with their art, without the benefit of hired help. So many young women are very successfully doing just that today; I am learning from them in hindsight. Yet even if that particular subject isn’t your concern, I think you too will enjoy listening to Zangewa ebulliently discuss her practice, her influences and her art.

Along the same lines of life and art overlapping, the other gem that grabbed me was a quote from the book Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell. If you haven’t read this novel (again, with a woman at its central axis point), put it on your list! I’ll let you discover its premise, but suffice to say it’s beautifully conceived and written, touching on a subject appropriate to our current time.

Maple Pecan Pie ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and Pencil on paper, 5 x 5 inches I couldn’t stop thinking about sketching while I cooked and baked for our Thanksgiving meal. My counters became an ever-evolving still life.

My greater point, though, is that a skilled writer can conjure images that are so relatable that even mundane impressions become solidly locked into place in new and elevated ways, leaving one marveling with a deeper understanding. For me, often immersed in the art of embroidery, the following analogy is brilliantly applicable to a variety of things that belie their surface appearance.

It is so tenuous, so fragile, the life of the playhouses. He often thinks that, more than anything, it is like the embroidery on his father’s gloves: only the beautiful shows, only the smallest part, while underneath is a cross-hatching of labour and skill and frustration and sweat.”

It makes one think of the proverbial duck who seems to glide across the pond, yet whose feet are furiously paddling beneath the surface, not unlike a busy mother. And, I can’t help but think of the work of Cayce Zavaglia, master embroiderer, who lately has been exhibiting the backs of her larger-than-life, super realistic embroidered portraits (versos) and her paintings of the same. Her intent is to highlight the “divergence between our presented and private selves”.

Sandra 5 (verso) ©Cayce Zavaglia,

With all the above said, this past Tuesday as I looked at the calendar I realized that this very week marks Eye of the Needle’s 7th anniversary of uninterrupted weekly, and for the past two years, bi-weekly posts. In fact, this is #315. I have always seen this blog as source of connection – both with the greater art world and with you.

But what I have come to most appreciate and to value about this practice (and I do think of it as a practice) is it has allowed me to be more deeply engaged in my day-to-day, paying closer attention to underlying connections which most often arise unexpectedly. In many respects, this is a space to pull those loose threads together. Through the act of writing I become more cognizant of what I think and feel about the many, often humdrum things which somehow end up influencing my ideas, and in turn manifest themselves in what I make. And that is really the meat of this particular post. I hope that by sharing my relationship with those moments, you too have had cause to reflect on new perspectives – or to reconsider old ones – in a fresh light.

Time for Regrouping

You gotta love a sense of completion!

For the past several weeks I’ve been chipping away at a watercolor group portrait commission that came out of the blue. Best done in steady, measured sessions, it has been the perfect mix of challenge and, in the end, satisfaction. Now that it is en route to its new owner, I’m relieved, excited and frankly a bit spent.
I’m sorry not to be able to share pictures with you here – at least for a while – as it’s meant to be a Christmas surprise.

But what I can share with you is the color test sheet I used along the way. It’s not exactly a thing of beauty but it still has a certain charm. If the paper hadn’t already had something on the back I would have squared it up and used it for the note I include when sending a piece off to its new owner. I guess that’s an idea I’ll have to remember for the future.

Now that the painting is out of the studio, I’ve been working around the edges of other business-y chores while getting back up to speed. And frankly, I’m glad for a bit of a break. For the most part I’ve been becoming reacquainted with my mat cutter, submitting to a couple of shows, and starting the planning process for 2022. Did you realize that there are only 6 weeks left this year?

©2021 Elizabeth Fram Walnut ink on paper, 5 x 8 inches While Quinn may be the one who’s actually logging the zzzz’s, taking some time with my sketchbook makes for a relaxing and satisfying mid-day break from the computer for me.

I know this is not the stuff of which inspiring posts are written, but I think it’s worth sharing all the same. There is much that goes on “behind-the-curtain” in any studio — necessary tasks that aren’t glamorous, but which need regular time and attention and are just as crucial as the drawing and the stitching. Plus, I think it’s important to recognize how necessary it can be to regroup before jumping back into the making again.

See this for more resources on artistic business practices.

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While I haven’t had much time to explore it yet, Sarah Homfray’s YouTube embroidery channel looks like a wonderful place to learn — whether you are a beginner or an expert.

Testing, 1-2-3

The thing about Shibori is it can be both mentally invigorating and relaxing, often at the same time. I’ve been looking forward to this week’s work, knowing I’d have the stimulation of a puzzle paired with the soothing calm of stitching row upon repetitive row of running stitches.

Quick notations capture possibilities and remind me of fleeting ideas

In teasing out an approach for the dyed background of my “letters from home”, I’ve thought of plenty of possibilities. The overall goal is to find an idea that is generally repeatable, yet with enough elbow room for variations that will allow each piece to hold its own among the others in the series.

I keep even the smallest amounts of dye on hand so that I can make mini-samples on the fly. For the process of Ori-nui, the cloth is folded and stitches are made parallel and close to the fold. It’s a good way to achieve definition. I felt the stitches I’d made in this sample were too far from the fold, so I adjusted that distance in my final, full-scale sample.

I also have to keep in mind how the embroidery-to-be will fit, so that it doesn’t become lost against the color and pattern of its dyed background.

Once I get to the stage of sewing the resist stitching, I can settle in and relax. Where to stitch, what direction those stitches will take, and where the knots will be placed have all been decided. So there’s nothing to do at this point but listen to a book or podcast and get to work.

It’s all well and good to jot down options in a sketchbook, but it isn’t until the needle actually pierces the cloth that reality sets in and decisions/questions begin to crop up in earnest. Should the striations of pattern all go in the same direction – or perhaps oppose each other? How best to keep a crisp line between areas of pattern and open spaces of dye? Can I balance those two while keeping in mind that the third crucial element of the embroidered imagery will be added later?

With the stitching complete, the fabric is ready to soak and then all the threads will have to be drawn up tightly and knotted before beginning the dye process.

An example of the many things to think about: an often overlooked characteristic of Mokume stitching is that even the point where one chooses to begin a row of stitching can impact the final appearance. I am quite fond of the little white dots left un-dyed by the knots at the end of my stitching thread, so I try to work out ways to incorporate them that will enhance the piece without distraction. It’s worth noting that beyond contributing added visual “zip” for those who look closely, those tiny spots are also a reminder that this process is very much hand-made.

Admittedly they are very subtle, but I think the marks left by the knots at the end of my thread elevate the pattern as a whole, so I try not to hide them if possible.

Last but not least, at this early stage everything must be worked within a pre-determined finished size to accommodate framing.
So yes, lots to think about and I have my work cut out for me. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And there you have it – the finished, dyed piece. The dye came out a bit like the Northern Lights, don’t you think?

If I go with a 12 x 12 inch final dimension as originally planned, this is about where it’ll end up.

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Most of our fall yard chores are now complete, crowned, as always, by the all-important planting and securing of the garlic under its snug winter cover of leaves and burlap.
Time to get ready for garden dreaming in hibernation season by turning to books. After reading the article I mentioned in my last post, I picked up David Culp’s The Layered Garden from the library for his ideas on how to bridge the seasons in your garden. My favorite example of this idea is Jack Lenor Larsen’s Red Garden at the Longhouse Reserve.

I have a beautiful red twig dogwood and tend to leave areas of echinacea and bee balm for visual interest against the snow (and any late foraging birds). But I wonder what other ideas Culp might have. I was rewarded this morning, waking up to a frosted landscape that reminded me just how lovely every season can be.

Frost

Letters From Home

©Thomas Dambo at the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens

Among the many highlights of our trip to Maine last month was a visit to the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens in Boothbay. It’s a wonderful place, whether you’re a plant enthusiast or not.

Thomas Dambo’s larger-than-life trolls, dubbed The Guardians of the Seeds, pushed this year’s visit into the realm of the magical. If you’re headed in that general direction, they are definitely worth a detour!

Aside from enjoying the change of scene that comes with any vacation, I find being in a new environment has a tendency to shake fresh ideas loose, allowing them to rise to the surface. This trip was no exception. I had a bit of a forehead smacking moment when I realized that the iconic house shape I’ve been using over the past year is the same as an open envelope’s silhouette. Talk about a lightbulb moment! It looks like my work for the fall is now laid out for me.

House / Envelope

Many things represent my idea of where I grew up, and in combining some of them with the merged house/open envelope shape, I’m imagining the possibilities of a series of “Letters from Home”.

What better way to kick off the series than with a mussel shell, one of the more common sights on any rocky Maine beach? They served as foraged butter dishes for our lobster picnics, and I have collected more than my fair share of them over the years because of their purple-y color.

Working with those deep blues and purples has been pure pleasure this week; colors that vibrate against the red and orange of this shibori-dyed shape – originally intended as a house, now both house and envelope. What began as an experiment for carrying a symbol forward, now feels a bit like kismet, pushing the idea of home in a very personal way.

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Update:
I mentioned at the end of August that I’d let you know once the recording of the artists talk “Signify: A Conversation About Meaning and Technique” (a Zoom discussion I participated in surrounding this summer’s exhibition Hidden Messages: Old and New) was available for viewing. As promised, here is the link. I’ll warn you, it’s an hour long – so grab your beverage of choice. I think you’ll find the conversation interesting, down to earth, and in good humor.

Welcome Fall!

My kids might not be that amused, but back in the day I used to get a kick out of Staples’ “The most wonderful time of the year” commercial. Aside from the obvious, it struck a chord because, no matter how old I get, I doubt I’ll ever outgrow the feeling that September is a time of fresh beginnings, carrying with it the possibility and excitement of learning.

Marty ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Ink and watercolor on paper, 11 x 8 inches What used to be the Sktchy app is now called “Museum by Sktchy“. It’s billed as “an unlimited supply of portrait subjects right in your pocket” and is a great resource for practice.

This year is no different. The availability of so many online learning platforms makes it incredibly easy and convenient to explore all sorts of art disciplines. I took advantage of Labor Day bundle pricing and bought several courses that will feed both my stitching and drawing needs throughout the fall.

A number of the instructors I’ve “studied” with in the past are artists whose work I had followed through Urban Sketchers and Instagram, so I was familiar with the quality of their ideas and process. And while I’m a huge fan of books, a video format has different advantages. True, it’s not the same as being part of an in-person group, but you still have the ability to ask questions, get feedback, follow your own timeline and, in most cases, have access to your classes “forever”.

Below are the 3 platforms I’ve had experience with and the type of classes I’ve taken with them. There is much more to choose from than what I’ve listed here, so do some research to see what you might find that appeals to your needs.

Domestika – Drawing, Painting, & Embroidery
This is my current favorite — for the quality of the content, presentation and instructors. Founded in Spain, Domestika is now headquartered in San Francisco. I find the fact that most of the instructors are internationally based to be an advantage since they bring something slightly different to the table by virtue of their home culture. With that in mind, you should be aware that many of the classes are not presented in English and as a result rely on subtitles.
Sktchy Art School (no, that’s not a typo) – Drawing, Making natural inks, & Anatomy
The anatomy course was especially good and this is a case where the video format really shines. There are tons of books available on the subject, but I found it particularly helpful to follow along as the instructor used Procreate to uncover and describe layers of bone, muscle and skin, highlighting their affect upon each other. She explained, both verbally and through drawing, how all those elements work together, while providing guideposts to keep in mind for my own drawing.
Sktchy classes also include international instructors who, to my knowledge, all speak in English.
Craftsy – Sketching & Perspective
I think this may have been one of the first online art class apps available and I was very pleased with the courses I chose. But beware: this platform has changed to a subscription format and for that reason I’m no longer interested in their offerings — but that’s just me. I do still have access to the classes I bought before the change.

A quick search online came up with many more options (check the links listed below). I’m sure you can find pretty much whatever you might want if you dig around.

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If you missed this post about “Numina” on Colossal and could use a dose of pure “fantastic”, check out this brief video about Meow Wolf’s latest – more than 70 installations by 300 artist across four floors. Kind of makes one’s heart beat faster with a sense of happiness and hope.

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On a completely different note….
Soon after moving to Vermont I met Dianne Shullenberger, who is easily the most generous artist I have ever known. Our friendship has been an ongoing source of joy and mutual support ever since. Over the years I have watched as she has pushed forward with her own work while never failing to reach out to bolster me and many others on our own creative journeys. When Dianne asked if I would be willing to help her spread the word about an upcoming event she’s planning in anticipation of flipping the page to a new chapter in her life, I gladly said yes.

Please visit Dianne’s website to take in the beauty of her fabric collages and colored pencil drawings, all of which are grounded in her love of nature and the atmospheric details of specific places. She will be having a Moving Sale during Vermont Open Studio Weekend on October 2 & 3, from 10-5. She is offering a 20% discount on all work over $500. Please feel free to contact her before Open Studio to set up an appointment to visit her gallery or to discuss any work that has caught your eye. You can reach her via email: vtdianne@hotmail.com or phone: 802-899-4993

Breathing Deeply

Working on the stitched watercolor garden pieces this summer has been just the break I had hoped for while simultaneously opening the door to new explorations. It’s been like taking a deep breath. There’s nothing quite as fun (or as good a stretch for the brain) as pushing toward some sort of new evolution and seeing where those explorations might lead.

Rounding the Bend ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and stitching on paper, 5 x 5 inches. I haven’t posted new pieces from this series since the beginning of July. Time to catch you up! You can revisit all the pieces on my website.

Coincidentally, in catching up on older podcasts, I recently listened to Alice Sheridan and Louise Fletcher of Art Juice talk about “Kickstarting Creativity by Taking a Break”. That doesn’t necessarily mean taking a rest from making art altogether (although it could), but rather creating an interruption by switching gears to something different.

Having now returned from their month-long respite, it’s worth listening to their follow-up episode, “A Time for Reflection”, as they discuss some of their realizations from their time away.

It’s an honest conversation about an artist’s life, dipping into elements and responses that are familiar to all of us.

For my part, I’m grateful for the sense of camaraderie that comes when others share about issues we may have in common. At the end of the day we’re all just trying to make a go of a creative life – why not travel together?

In considering my own, shall we say, intermission from the work of last year, not only has the painting itself been equal parts challenging and rewarding, but the incorporation of the embroidered houses has provided a welcome sense of grounding and continuity while still allowing me to find new ways to play around with the idea of something “hidden in plain sight”.

I’ve completed a dozen of these little stitched paintings to date and expect to keep going in some form or another. I took a first stab at what moving beyond the “safety” of the houses might look like in this little close-up of my daughter’s Maranta leuconeura. The question that is floating around in the back of my head now is how might I let the stitching on paper branch into portraits.

Basically, texture is at the root of my interest. It’s the textural effects of the stitching, together with the visual texture of the paint on paper, that most intrigues me.
Meanwhile, I’ve begun a new shibori piece and expect to be back at my frame embroidering on cloth in earnest, just as soon as the dyeing is complete.