Our dog Quinn has the art of post-nap stretching down to a science.
We can’t help but admire and laugh at the languorous ease with which she lowers herself to the floor from her bed on the sofa, slowly and purposefully trailing her hind legs in order to fully stretch out her spine.

I spent our first morning exploring pattern, with the background of future portraits in mind.

Considering it’s beyond mid-May and I’m well out of my winter cocoon, I’ve been thinking about ways to figuratively emulate Quinn’s example in my practice this summer. It would be nice to shake out the cricks of habit and routine that have settled into place after months of being cozied-up inside.

Layers of color add complexity

A hopeful first step was jumping – no leaping – on-board at a friend’s suggestion that several of us take a long weekend for an artist’s retreat at her place on Martha’s Vineyard. In hindsight, there is a certain poetry in the parallel that runs between being situated on a physical island while simultaneously experiencing a metaphorical remove through focused making, discussion and inspiration.

Final spots of red could just as easily been added with thread

As with so many things, the benefits undoubtedly won’t fully surface for a while. No question, it can be quite fruitful to release some of the ideas that bang around within the confines of one’s own head, and then see how those thoughts reflect back in the light of others’ insights and responses. I have a lot to think about now that I’m home, and I know that it will take longer than the actual retreat to get to the nut of what I gleaned.

Later that same day we walked a trail that, in places, ran alongside beautiful old stone walls that are riddled with holes. They are unlike any I’ve ever seen in Vermont or Maine. Later, reading a book about the Vineyard, I learned that these walls, which snake all across this part of the island, are referred to as “lace walls” because of their unusual holes. Although my sample painting above was finished before seeing the walls up close, I can’t help but think of it now as an abstraction and reminder of Chilmark’s unique and ubiquitous boundary markers.

I’m feeling like I got  a satisfying stretch for my brain and my practice, and am ready to move forward.

Trimming down what I brought with me took some thought because there is the very real temptation to bring everything. Bottom line: it doesn’t take much to create and settle into a transitory studio.

✷

Lisette    © 2023 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and graphite on paper, 12″H x 9″W

This summer I am planning to balance stitched studio portraits with more spontaneous versions that are painted from life in a group setting. The difference between the two is obvious, but I feel like each approach feeds the other in a way that ultimately benefits both, as well as my own learning arc.

Nobody’s Fool ©2023 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor, graphite and stitching on paper, 9.5 x 9.5 inches