Last weekend I attended a symposium named “Art Meets History” at The Rokeby Museum. Overall, I enjoyed the discussions that evolved as the day progressed, but I left feeling a bit lukewarm about how well the presenters met the mark in aiding us to draw connections between our individual art practices and history.
Clementines ©2019 Elizabeth Fram, 8.5 x 11 inches, Ink and watercolor on paper In an effort to add color to my sketchbooks I am experimenting with adding it in a limited way. I have been trying out a new sketchbook that I’m quite pleased with: 5.5 x 8.5 Stillman & Birn Beta Series, soft cover mixed media sketchbook with extra heavyweight, archival, white, cold press paper. I got it from my local art supply store, but Dick Blick also carries them.
But that isn’t the subject I’ve been mulling over this week. It’s not unusual to go to an event expecting one thing and to come away having gleaned something completely different. And that in itself can be worthwhile.
For me, the most important moment of the day was when another of the participants shared an experience of personal affront and crisis that was so overwhelming she couldn’t keep it to herself. It is not my story to share, but it led to a discussion and exploration of ways that art, as a form of expression and protest, can be a conduit for bringing awareness, catharsis, and perhaps even change.
These aren’t easy times and there are any number of worthy issues to dominate our consciousness, all meriting attention and consideration. Art provides one of the most salient platforms for bringing awareness and for expressing the myriad feelings and ideas that accompany thorny topics.
Olive Oil ©2019 Elizabeth Fram, 8.5 x 11 inches, Ink and watercolor on paper
Vermonters are not shy about expressing their opinions and concerns; there is excellent work being made here that carries an underlying message — whether about the environment, our current political climate, or any other of a host of important issues. I often find myself feeling a bit out of step as I don’t approach my work with a cause to champion; my considerations are more home-centric and lean toward academic formalities.
My pieces celebrate day-to-day, run-of-the-mill household observations that often go unnoticed in the bustle of cellphones and busy schedules. Yet it is just such repetitive everyday sights which bring me (and I hope my viewers) pleasure and even comfort, offering a sense of constancy amid the tumult and distress that accompanies the unrelenting barrage of news.
Protest is important yet there should also be room in our consciousness for quiet statements that give us hope, reminding us of the good that surrounds us each day. We need to honor the moments that bring joy via their simplicity and their universality. We need refuge.
Seven Days ©2019 Elizabeth Fram, 8.5 x 11 inches, Ink and watercolor on paper
So, in a world of causes and points to be made, perhaps my simple tablescapes and dog shadows have more to contribute than I thought.
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This weekend marks the opening of the 2019 Rijswijk Textile Biennial which runs from June 18 to October 6th.
I am so excited that four of my pieces (shown below) were selected to be part of the exhibit alongside the work of 21 other artists from across the world.
While scheduling prevents my making it to the opening, I’m looking forward to getting to the exhibit this fall. Should you be traveling to The Netherlands before October 6th, please do consider a trip to the Rijswijk Museum, only 3.5 miles from The Hague.
Alone Together ©2017 Elizabeth Fram, 11 x 14 inches, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk
Poseidon’s Garden ©2016 Elizabeth Fram, 26 x 22 inches, Hand-dye, stitched-resist dye, discharge, and embroidery on silk
Respite ©2017 Elizabeth Fram, 11 x 14 inches, Stitched-resist dyed embroidery on silk
Espresso & Peanut Butter ©2018 Elizabeth Fram, 14 x 11 inches, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk
How exciting! Congratulations. A well deserved honor to be chosen to participate.
Thanks for these kind words JB!
I agree first with you on the subject of coming away from an event or gathering having gained something other than expected. And so often that something is sparked by participants rather than presenters, and perhaps more valuable for that. My own experience is that I tend to over-prepare for talks etc., not only in my thinking but often by researching too, leading to so often being disappointed by the presenters. Contributions from other participants come in unbidden and can generated fresh thinking, most valuably about one’s own work.
I agree with you also about art not necessarily being about HISTORY. One of my favourite artists is Vuillard whose paintings tell so much of the lives of ordinary women. I feel just at home in contemplating one of those paintings as I do in appreciating Louise Bourgeois’ Cells. Those Cells too are about personal life. The greater picture after all is built up from a mosaic of the day to day.
Your pieces attract me and intrigue me, and how I wish that I could see them for real, but for various reasons I shall not be visiting the Netherlands this year. I’m delighted that you are part of the Rijswijk textile show – congratulations to them for picking you.
This thoughtful response means a great deal to me Olga. Thank you for your ideas.
I’m sorry you won’t be able to make it to the show, but greatly appreciate your considering it. You are most kind. Best wishes.
Oh how lovely my friend! Art allows us to escape and to both explore and share with others how we see the world. For me, your art represents the pleasure and joy of life in color, pattern and presence. For that I am grateful. Congratulations on your show!
Your comments always make me smile … and grateful for your input. Thank you many times over!
I couldn’t agree more, Betsy.
“History” is a complex and perplexing concept, really. I love to think about art as the document of history that doesn’t get in the history books. Art, for me, shows what people are being moved by, how they are struggling with what is going on around them, where they are putting their attention and industry, where their priorities lie, what gives them comfort–within the hard facts of living their lives. That provides me a social and emotional subtext for the history books. It’s like the layman’s version of history, celebrating the tiny victories along the way, not the conqueror’s version of the story glazed by the politics, commerce, and power involved.
Your work shows us it’s important to remember to stop and breath, appreciating what is right in front of us, and also that it’s ever changing. It’s these wonderfully ordinary moments that shape a life, a movement, a history one moment at a time (even if they don’t end up in the history books). We tend to forget that a “movement” is not just the result that is documented, but is a string of events that lead to a whole and at any one of those moments the direction of that result is impacted, possibly turning it in another direction. That is powerful. To feel there is a moment where we can have impact, just by seeing the moment to act in some way. Or that we can find the courage to start again to take that first step to create what we don’t know we can achieve and create value. Thank you for offering that quiet and beautiful reminder.
Wow Monica, I like the way your mind works! Especially the idea of history one moment at a time – how true. Thank you so much for this thought-provoking response and for adding your perspective.
I loved what you wrote. Your sketches with color are wonderful. Congratulations on being included in that interesting show. Is it near Amsterdam? I have some friends there now.
Judy
Thanks Judy! I’m still a little uneasy about the sketches, but hopefully practice will be fruitful and besides, it’s all good fun. Rijswijk is only about 40 miles from Amsterdam, and I trust a very speedy trip by train. Are your friends visiting or do they live there? The exhibit officially opens to the public on Tues. the 18th.
They are on their way to Africa. Not sure when. But I’ll let them know.
Judy
Congratulations, Betsy! Having followed your blog for a couple of years, I have an idea of how much thought and effort you put into your pieces. The ones for the textile event are excellent! I fully support the thought you present as to the importance of art showing quiet everyday moments. I think that is part of the reason that your art appeals to me. Okay, I admit, I am a dog lover, too, and have three of my own!
Hi Joan – thank you so much for being a faithful reader and for this lovely note. It sounds like we’re definitely on the same page. If you only knew the art books I’ve bought because they feature dogs! Give your 3 a scratch for me…
Betsy, Congratulations on having FOUR pieces in this exhibit! I love your work and am excited you are getting the recognition!
I recently had a conversation about”future art history” with a friend of mine from college who was also an art history major and now owns a contemporary gallery in Seattle (MadArt Seattle.) The subject came up around the artist Jeffery Gibson and his recent traveling exhibit “Like a Hammer”. He works in textiles, which express his coming to terms with his identity. The exhibit has a catalogue which my friend sent to me, in which he poses that question “What is our future art history?” Anyway, the thought of what will people looking back see has always been in my mind as an art historian. It also has made me realize the power of curation. Curators ultimately are the spin doctors, deciding what is worthy of presentation. Work doesn’t have to have a cause, art is a window on our society. In all the swirl of causes, I think as we all peek in (often) your kitchen window, we find peace. That is one of the most important ideas of any time. I am glad your work is getting shown!
Your feedback is always so much appreciated Patty! – and I am especially happy to learn about Jeffrey Gibson. I look forward to reading more about his “Like a Hammer” exhibit. Meanwhile, I am going to think about the idea of “future art history”. We so often look back to understand art, it’s a worthwhile exercise to look forward.