If there’s such a thing as visual euphoria, it’s the garden coming back to life again in all its glorious colors and textures. The early season vibrance of azaleas is beyond stunning after a long Vermont winter.
For those who have followed me faithfully here, you will recognize color as a recurrent early summer theme. How could it not be? With the lupines now out and irises just beginning to pop, I am reminded of this post from a couple of years ago, exalting a landscape immersed in purple and blue – my favorite.
Lately I’ve been noticing that the variety of greens on the hills and mountains that surround us are more vivid than ever. As summer wears on, the leaves will mature, becoming increasingly monochromatic, but for now their wide spectrum from warm to cool, offset by scattered reds and pinks, is pure visual pleasure. The sight is a post-winter reward.
May 18, First Color ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and stitch on paper, 5 x 5 inches. I have been meaning to get back to watercolor for ages. This is a rusty first stab after a long break but, as with everything, practice is all. It’s such a pleasurable activity; time just melts away in pools of color.
Digging deeper, it is the constant change of the seasons upon a set structure (mountain) or template (garden) that I find endlessly interesting.
May 18, detail ©2021 Elizabeth Fram One can only learn by doing. By matching the colors of thread in the stitched house so closely to those of the paint below, I think the image melts just a bit too much into the background. The aim was to have it be like a good conversationalist, holding its own without either monopolizing or fading into obscurity. The results seem to lean more toward the latter the further you get from the piece. But maybe that’s good? An unexpected surprise upon close inspection?
With that in mind, I’m beginning a new project this summer, both as a break from months steeped in COVID-centric houses (although I haven’t released the house shape yet), and also as a creative stretch. I’m looking to combine paint with stitch, and what better inspiration could one ask for than the ever-evolving flora that has suddenly taken center stage once again?
The painting before stitching; the marks that outline the house are visible underneath the painting.
The core idea I am grappling to articulate relates to structure, within the garden or even, perhaps, in the larger landscape. Inspired generally by Piet Oudolf (designer of Manhattan’s High Line and Chicago’s Lurie Garden in Millennium Park) and particularly by the Red Garden designed by Jack Lenor Larsen at his LongHouse Reserve, I am thinking about constancy amid change – and even the constancy of change. I don’t quite know yet how this will pan out, you are seeing my very first steps. There are bound to be lots of stops and starts as I figure out where I’m headed, but for now it’s enough to embark on something fresh.
May 30, Hostas ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and stitch on paper, 5 x 5 inches.
And since I’ve brought you into a garden headspace, here’s another resource, especially if you’re out and about in the area:
Elizabeth Billings is currently doing an artist residency at three of the Nature Conservancy’s natural areas in Vermont. She is creating intentional contemplative spaces under the title “Together: Nature Unites Us”. She has been posting about it on Instagram.
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Summer reading:
As you say…”I am thinking about constancy amid change – and even the constancy of change”…I often find myself laughing at myself when looking at a tree or plant in spring and “seeing” it already in the fall and winter and back again to the next spring. The constancy of the life cycle, even including the inconsistencies, is so sustaining. There are, of course, tears in that fabric: the fact that there are far fewer bees and birds and no bats is a very disturbing change. Even the constancy of life cannot cover over such changes. I look forward to seeing where you take us with these houses in the hosta!
I do that too! (see the landscape in seasons other than the current one) and often wonder: what is that about? I have been so aware of and happy to hear the buzzing bees working their magic around our place, fully appreciating them for making the garden I enjoy so much possible.
Oh I am with you on the greens of this year…such an opportunity to take a deep breath and feel the fresh beginnings. I was so inspired by the greens this year that I bought a green umbrella for our porch table. Your new pieces are a lovely combination of your passion and many strengths. I can’t wait to see how it evolves! Wishing you happy moments in the garden and studio…
It’s no surprise to me that you are bringing the hills onto your porch with your new umbrella. Enjoy it – hard to believe it was so chilly only a week ago.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts!
You are doing exciting work. With my school work my garden is really suffering from overgrowth and weeds. But I walk daily in the woods, which are very dry. I am constantly thinking about how temperature increases are affecting the birds, bugs, and timing of fruits and flowers on which they rely. Plants bloomed out of sequence this year. For our mental wellbeing it is a good reminder to savor the colors.
Thanks for your thoughts Patty. I feel like the changes are more pronounced this year. Glad you are able to find time to get out daily – we all need it.