Tag Archives: Andrew Wyeth

Etudes

We’ve reached the mid-point!

Welcome to Week 3 of my Summer Stories Archival Sale!

The five pieces described below are 20% off in my web shop , now through 11:59pm July 31st. Find them under the category “Etudes”.
Use the coupon code Etudes20 at checkout.

But first, a quick check-in: I hope you are enjoying the stories I have been sharing this summer. Have you found anything surprising, relatable, confounding?
What I’ve discovered is that taking the time to look back helps me to see more clearly where I am going. And that is very rewarding.
Thanks for coming along for the ride.

Stand detail, textile collage, dye, applique, embroidery, quilting

I’ve called this latest section of my sale “Etudes” because each of these small pieces was just that – a study. While the dictionary’s definition of “etude” refers to a musical composition, the creative intention remains the same regardless of medium or discipline: “a piece designed as an exercise to improve the technique or demonstrate the skill of the player”.

With the basic building blocks of fabric, dye, thread and a needle, possibilities are only limited by one’s imagination. I’ve come to appreciate that fully exploring assorted processes in order to push the nuances of their potential is as integral to my practice as the concepts I am hoping to illustrate.

After moving to Vermont we built a house, customizing it to our personal quirks, desires and environmental goals. Topmost for me was that it include a roomy studio with a sink. That humble sink has given me the freedom to stretch beyond the copied “prints” on fabric I had been making previously, and to begin to explore surface design through many variations of Shibori dye techniques.

The small pieces you see here were created with the intent of finding new ways to incorporate the results of resist-dye explorations with a variety of sewn construction techniques, hand-stitched quilting and embroidery. They represent a mere scratching-of-the-surface of investigating and celebrating the rich artistic possibilities of textiles.

For years, a large part of my self-imposed directive has been to push the distinct qualities inherent to cloth and thread, honoring and highlighting them within my work for their unique visual and textural characteristics, rather than attempting to mimic processes and imagery that can be much more easily accomplished with paint or other media.

I love how these small works speak not just to a moment within my personal artistic development, but also to how, despite their small size, they reference the abundant potential of seemingly modest materials.

Book Form, Textile collage, Dye, Applique, quilting, embroidery

Book Form ©2011 Elizabeth Fram, Silk & cotton fabrics, Dye, Discharge, Paint, hand appliqué, Hand and machine quilted, Hand embroidered, 15″H x 21″ W, SALE Price: $440. If you’ve followed this blog for any amount of time you will know that reading is a huge part of my daily practice. This piece honors that love by using marks created with dye, paint and stitches, plus areas of pleated assembly, to mimic lines of text on a page beneath an open book.

Book Form, detail, Textile collage, Dye, Applique, quilting, embroidery

Book Form, detail © 2011 Elizabeth Fram The pattern on the black and gold fabric in the upper left corner was created by etching a design with a dull pencil into a styrofoam tray from a package of grocery store chicken. The resulting “plate” was rolled with textile paint and then used to create a mono-print on cotton.

Book Form, detail © 2011 Elizabeth Fram Black fabric, adorned with lines of masking tape and then sprayed with a diluted bleach solution created a lovely pattern of irregular lines once the tape was removed. Overlaying it with a sheer fabric allows that pattern to peek through, increasing a sense of depth. Lines of embroidered stitching follow the rhythm of the discharged pattern, also inferring a sense of text but with variations that imply handwritten rather than printed words.

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Stack, textile collage, quilting, embroidery, applique, dye

Stack ©2011 Elizabeth Fram, Silk & cotton fabrics, Wrapped-resist dye, Machine stitched, Hand quilted, Hand embroidered, 9″H x 9.5″W, SALE Price: $200. The following 4 pieces are part of what I have informally called my “motion series”. They all imply some form of movement or stance. When I made them, I had just completed an online class in Shibori dyeing that taught me the basics of a variety of ways to create pattern on cloth via stitched, wrapped and clamped resists.

Stack, detail, textile collage, quilting, embroidery, applique, dye

Stack, detail ©2011 Elizabeth Fram Combining samples of this newly dyed cloth with fabric from my stash brought me the same satisfaction as piecing together a puzzle. I particularly like the way the pleated sheer fabric on the left – which I had dyed separately – worked in tandem with the striated red and white arashi-dyed silk.

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Strut, textile collage, dye, applique, embroidery

Strut ©2011 Elizabeth Fram, Silk & cotton, Wrapped-resist dye, Hand appliqué, Hand quilted, Hand embroidered, 8.5″H x 8.5″W, SALE Price: $160 This piece is small but has a strong voice. Such is the power of color. For years, before I began trying my hand at surface design, I collected dupioni silks wherever I could find them, treasuring them for their saturated colors and iridescence. The confidence conveyed by these assertive hues is why I named this piece “Strut”.

Strut detail, textile collage, dye, applique, embroidery

Strut, detail ©2011 Elizabeth Fram When I first began making art with cloth, I ran through every fabric department I came across, collecting anything with unusual characteristics and potential. The damask-like rectangle that morphs from orange to violet, in the upper right of this detail photo, was a length of synthetic that I believe was intended as a dress fabric. It was so unusual, but incredibly versatile. Somehow it seemed to “fit” in almost everything I made, until all I had left were tiny slivers to insert here and there. Not only did I use it for the colors on its right side, but it’s reversible back side was silver with the black pattern, and I used it as the underbelly of a mackerel in one of my earliest pieces. Follow this link and scroll to the bottom of the post to see that fish.

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Tumble, textile collage, dye, quilting, embroidery

Tumble ©2011 Elizabeth Fram, Silk & cotton, Clamped and wrapped-resist dye, Discharge, Hand appliqué, Hand quilted, Hand embroidered, 9.5″H x 9″W, SALE Price: $200 Clamped-resist is a dye technique where you take two objects of the same shape and clamp them together on either side of the outside of a folded fabric bundle, sort of like two slices of sandwich bread. The results are a shadow image of their shape that appears on the cloth once the objects are removed and the dyed fabric is unfolded. A hardware store is a great place to find objects to use in this process, such as the oversized aluminum washers I used to create this donut shape.

Tumble detail, textile collage, dye, quilting, embroidery

Tumble, detail ©2011 Elizabeth Fram Stripes, marks, color & texture. These detail photos show the distance from which I see each piece as I am working on it. Can you begin to understand why I get so swept up in detail?

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Stand textile collage, dye, applique, embroidery, quilting

Stand ©2011 Elizabeth Fram, Silk & cotton, Stitched-resist dye, Hand appliqué, Hand quilted, Hand embroidered, 9.9″H x 9″W, SALE Price: $200 The challenge of bringing diverse elements together so that they look as though they were always meant to be a whole unit is a good part of what I loved about making the pieces in this series. I was looking for ways to create a conversation between all the ingredients so that, like a complex sauce, one can appreciate the individual components while savoring their intermingled results.

Stand, detail ©2011 Elizabeth Fram All the pieces in this post were made in 2011 and by now I’m sure you’ve noticed that in all but one I was using the device of rows of stitches, stacked on top of each other. Part of the beauty of going back through older work in detail is you notice things with fresh eyes. I think I have more to say with this particular way of stitching, so don’t be surprised if you see it in new work.

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And now, because I can’t resist…

Untitled, circa 1959-1962, Lynne Drexler, Farnsworth Museum of Art

We are back from a week in Maine and of course made our annual pilgrimage to the Farnsworth Museum. Perhaps because I’m looking back on the old, non-representational work in my sale, this year I was most taken with exhibits of abstract work by Lynne Drexler and – surprise! – Andrew Wyeth. I’m not going to write much about either here since you have already waded through the above. But I encourage you to check out the links and to read about both shows – they are beautiful and fascinating.

Untitled, 1991, Andrew Wyeth, Watercolor on Paper, Collection of the Wyeth Foundation for American Art While Drexler’s work is (stunningly) all about the color, I was quite moved by this exhibit of never-before-shown abstract works of Wyeth’s, which spanned six decades. His ability to capture a beautiful abstraction with vitality and immediacy blew me away. All the more so because we think of him as the quintessential realist. He is quoted as saying “My struggle is to preserve that abstract flash like something you caught out of the corner of your eye” , and very surprisingly, apparently referred to himself on numerous occasions as an abstract artist.

Don’t forget to use the coupon code Etudes20 for your 20% discount in my web shop. These five pieces will remain on sale through 11:59pm July 31st. Enjoy free shipping within the continental US.; these pieces are ready to hang.

The next sale will begin with my August 8th blog post in two weeks.
Keep an eye on my web shop, as the next five pieces will be available to preview soon after this sale ends. You can find them under the category “Transitions”.

À la Carte

I’m not sure how we did it, but when we planned this year’s trip to Maine last winter we somehow landed on what might have been the best week of the summer; we only had to pay one day of rain tax. Considering what a soggy season it has been across New England, that’s really saying something.

Clark Island

Before we leave, I usually have 1 or 2 specific shows in mind I want to see, but it never fails that unexpected creative treats pop up along the way. Here’s a bit of a tasting menu of what caught my eye.

Portland Coastline ©Diane Been, Oil on paper I couldn’t stop looking at this print of a painting by Diane Beem during lunch at Mae’s Cafe in Bath. Deemed “Modern Fauvism” by the artist, the colors aren’t what one might usually associate with the Portland waterfront, and I think that’s a large part of what drew me in.

©David B Harmon Always a sucker for animals in art, I loved David B Harmon’s woodblock relief prints, some of which were huge. His exhibit “Cohabitation” at Rock City Café in Rockland calls attention to the fact that we share community with creatures of all types. And knowing a couple of special somebodies who are currently trying to negotiate a coexistence with a raccoon, this piece suddenly had special meaning.

Archipelago is a Rockland art & craft gallery filled with the work of Maine artists. Its mission is to support creative island and working waterfront communities. Currently, they are highlighting the work of Kelly Desrosiers: acrylic collage that looked (to me) like fabric.

Bird Island by Kelly Desrosiers, Acrylic Collage

The Farnsworth Museum is a gem that always has something terrific on view.

Edward Hopper, Haunted House 1926, Watercolor, gouache, pastel and graphite on paper

One of their current exhibits, “Edward Hopper and Andrew Wyeth: Rockland, ME”, blew me away. Beautifully curated, it finds strong parallels between works of two very different artists, made decades apart. The stars of the show are their subjects: Rockland, as a place, and the physical apparatuses of its historic industries. The overlap of the artists’ interpretations were both surprising and delightful.

Andrew Wyeth, Untitled (Snow House), 1983, Watercolor on paper

I always return to the fact that details are my kryptonite.

There is a world unto itself in the variation of color in each pane of glass Wyeth painted in this window.

This summer I’ve been experimenting in my sketchbook with layering assorted media, including gouache and soft pastels. So it was a treat to see how Hopper incorporated a variety of materials in this lyrically beautiful passage of grass in the foreground of “Haunted House”.

A couple of other gems at the Farnsworth I couldn’t resist sharing:

Francesco Clemente, Robert Creeley, 2002, Oil on linen, Gift of the Alex Katz Foundation Any and every portrait is intriguing to me these days.

Lois Dodd, The Painted Room, 1982, Oil on linen The ambiguity of Dodd’s depiction of this room’s painted mural, framing the window, framing the real outdoors, sets the stage for all sorts of imaginings.

I was lucky that one of my Maine buddies alerted me in advance to the (Brunswick) Curtis Memorial Library’s exhibition of Robert McCloskey’s original illustrations of some of his most iconic and best loved books.
Forgive the reflections.

Most kids from Maine know all about Blueberries for Sal. For those of us who grew up in the state and summered in an old-fashioned, down-to-earth Maine cottage on the coast (not the fancy McMansion-type dwellings built by people from away), everything about this book is comfortingly familiar (except the bears).

When I look at art, it’s invariably with an eye toward what I can learn from someone else’s expertise. This detail from one of the illustrations in McCloskey’s Burt Dow, Deep-Water Man is a masterclass on being concise without sacrificing detail.

One of a number of wooden reliefs by Blake Hendrickson, also at the library. They reminded me of my friend Dianne Shullenberger’s “Circular Earth Series”.

And finally, the cherry on top of the vacation cake was discovering this local exhibit of portraits by Abby Carter. Beautiful work honoring community.

Abby Carter

One last Maine note: There’s always time around the edges to do a bit of sketching. I’ve been very happy to learn that soft pastels can be wetted and painted like watercolors.

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And now, back in Vermont, I’ve finished the portrait you have only seen snippets of so far.

The Gardener, Detail Since it’s a bear to photograph the glow of gold paint, this detail better captures what the photo above didn’t.

Inspiration Time

Travel time is often inspiration time.
With that in mind, mid-coast Maine has a wealth of artistic options to scratch the itch.

How many times have I thought the above? Relatable words on a poster that hangs in Laurel’s Dolce Vita in Thomaston, ME. Stop in for a treat – I highly recommend the Raspberry Puffin – a sugar bomb for sure, but worth every bite!.

As I get back into the saddle after a week’s vacation in my home state, how can I help but share a heaping handful of artworks that caught my eye while away? Created by artists both familiar and new to me, this fresh serving of work will undoubtedly feed my creative hunger in one way or another in the weeks ahead.

Langlais Sculpture Preserve & Art Trail

It doesn’t get much better than experiencing art preservation and land conservation in one package on a beautiful August day in Maine.

Bernard Langlais (1921-1977), native to Maine and a painter turned sculptor, studied art far and wide, including in Norway on a Fulbright grant. After living in New York, he and his wife moved to Cushing, Maine in the mid 1960’s, bought an old summer cottage and began renovating it. The experience of working with wood turned the tide, so to speak, and he soon abandoned painting for abstract wood reliefs and large free-standing sculptures that often pay homage to animals. His work, frequently site-specific, can be found all over the state of Maine.

See more of his work in the Collection of Colby College

©Bernard Langlais

Zoom in to catch the details of this Langlais wall relief.

The half-worked sculptures in Langlais’ studio give hint to how prolific he was. The organized chaos and cocooned rustic feel of this space reminds me a lot of my grandfather’s, then father’s, & now brother’s under-the-house workshop in the almost 100 year-old family cottage on Orr’s Island.

An example of a Langlais painting

Considering how close the Langlais Sculpture Preserve is to the Olson house depicted in “Christina’s World”, it’s no surprise that Langlais made this piece after Andrew Wyeth’s iconic painting.

The home of Alvaro and Christina Olson is now a national historic landmark under the stewardship of the Farnsworth Art Museum. Since we were so close, I had to swing by.

Center for Maine Contemporary Art

A smattering of the exciting work from the current exhibits at the Center for Maine Contemporary Art:

Hilary Irons,”Saint Anthony Abbot & Satan (after the Master of the Osservanza Triptych)” 2022, Oil, acrylic and marble dust on panel.

I had to look up the painting that was the inspiration for this piece after my visit – follow the link above if you’re curious too. The side-by-side comparison is worth it. This work is part of the CMCA exhibit “The View From Here” that has the unifying concept of unique and dynamic ways of looking at the world.
Hilary Iron’s use of color and pattern give the impression of batik fabric. Her reference to the Maine woods and the insertion of what I read as commonly-seen detritus on a Maine forest floor: white pine tassels and assorted tree litter, give this piece a sense of grounding and of place. Saint Anthony and Satan are represented by a dandelion and ghost pipe fungus, respectively – also common to Maine flora, though I’m not sure what, if any, meaning those representations carry.

Lois Dodd, “Sunlight on Spruce at Noon”, 1974, Oil on linen

I have become quite fond of Lois Dodd’s work after initially learning more about her in another Farnsworth exhibit in 2019 and after listening to the nonagenarian talk about her work on a Zoom presentation offered by the Princeton Art Museum last November. This piece is also part of “The View From Here”.

Reggie Burrows Hodges, “Father’s Self-Portrait”, 2017-19, Acrylic and pastel on canvas

The text accompanying Reggie Burrows Hodges work in his exhibit “Hawkeye” references how Hodges merges memory and surveillance in his paintings. I found myself appreciating the formalities of the way he breaks up space, creates depth through color, and (although hard to see in this particular piece) adds dynamism via lines drawn with pastel on top of the paint.

Veronica Perez, “you make me feel”, 2022 artificial hair, bobby pins The name of Perez’s exhibit is “voices, whispering”.

Excerpted from the accompanying literature: “The works are monuments to feelings of love, loss, and grief and are catalysts for exploring the forgotten and stolen histories of the Latinx diaspora. Veronica Perez’s practice is both introspective and community-oriented. Much of the work in this show is built in, and by, communities in Maine through Braiding Circles: artist-organized gatherings that use the act of hair-braiding to discuss identity, experience, and belonging.”

Quilting bees, knitting circles, braiding circles – there is much to be said for and learned from the discussions that arise while sitting within a group and using ones hands. For a timely and local example in which you can participate, look into Eve Jacobs-Carnahan’s Knit Democracy Together, a project that addresses the US electoral system in a series of knitting circles.

Dowling Walsh Gallery

Scott Kelley’s flock of large watercolor paintings of Great Blue Herons reads beautifully from afar and up close. “Test” swatches of paint were included in many of the finished pieces, an unusual and somehow satisfying addition, maybe because they are usually an unseen aspect of watercolor painting. These pieces call to mind the work of traditional Chinese paintings, John James Audubon, and Walton Ford.

Scott Kelley, “Fourth Aucocisco Drawing”, Ink and watercolor on paper, 8-1/4″ x 10-1/2″

Scott Kelley, “Study for Winter”, Watercolor and gouache on paper, 40″ x 30″

Farnsworth Art Museum

I’ve said it before and will say it again, the Farnsworth Art Museum is a gem. If you are ever near Rockland, Maine, be sure to visit.

Ashely Bryan, “Untitled (Laundry in the Garden)”, oil on canvas, Collection of the Ashley Bryan Center

Their current retrospective of Ashley Bryan’s work “Ashley Bryan: Beauty in Return” hinges on Bryan’s belief “If you put art into the world, you will get beauty in return”. A comprehensive display of “the artist’s work from throughout his long career, including paintings, illustrations, puppets and stained glass, the exhibition is a joyful celebration of the enduring power of art and the human spirit over adversity.”
There is so much about this piece that I find exquisite. Exuberant color, pattern and brushstrokes are irresistible. That fact, paired with the elevation of such a commonplace sight as hanging laundry that is holding its own within the landscape, speaks to Bryan’s virtuosity in finding and giving us beauty.

Andrew Wyeth, “By the Light of the Moon, Second Version”, 1987, Watercolor on paper, Collection of the Wyeth Foundation for American Art

When I was young, I was in awe of Andrew Wyeth’s extraordinary ability to portray realism. Now I find myself much more attracted to the abstraction within his work. This piece is a perfect example.

Andrew Wyeth, “Charlie Ervine”, 1937, Tempera on Panel, Collection of the Wyeth Foundation for American Art

This is a striking portrait – not just of a man, but of the house behind him. The weathered clapboards convey as deep a story as Ervine’s craggy features. Studying the painting up close, you can suddenly see subtle passages of color, within seemingly neutral areas, that are absolutely lyrical.

James Browning Wyeth, “Shorty”, 1963 Oil on canvas

Working on portraits of aging subjects as I have been lately, I am entranced by the individual features of this man and Jamie Wyeth’s handling of and reverence for them. Then, pulling back to absorb the piece as a whole, I’m delighted by the contrast between Shorty’s weather-beaten, scruffy appearance ensconced in the sumptuous fabric and luxury of the chair, coupled with the rich color and light of the piece. What a study!

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So many inspiring works, so much to think about. Thanks for hanging in there with me for the tour!

I’ll leave you with a parting shot of iconic Maine

The working harbor off Sprucehead Island, settled for the evening. Notably, there’s not a single pleasure vessel in sight.

Maine-ly Art

Art and travel go hand in hand, which is one of the reasons I’m always happy when I can get back to Maine.

School Street mural, Rockland, Maine

Akin to the sight of white pines backed by azure skies and the smell of salt in the air, many of Andrew Wyeth’s images speak to me as an indelible representation of the state where I grew up. PBS recently added an episode on Wyeth to their American Masters series; it’s quite good and addresses the often uneasy sense of mystery that hovers in the stark beauty and loneliness found in many of his paintings. I can’t speak to any connection those from Pennsylvania may feel toward his Chadds Ford work, but for me, Wyeth got Maine exactly right.

Olson House, Cushing, Maine

Although I visited the outside of the Olson house (the forbidding clapboard farmhouse that anchors Wyeth’s iconic Christina’s World) as a child, one can now see the inside as well thanks to the Farnsworth Art Museum assuming ownership in the early 1990’s.

Hathorn / Olson Graveyard looking out to Maple Juice Cove, Cushing, Maine

The ‘tour’ that comes with admission is really a half-hour history of the house and its generations of inhabitants — a single family line — told to wonderful effect by a local docent. With dramatic pauses and a spooky affect that gave the impression of a cross between a no-nonsense schoolmarm and a wicked witch, she relayed how the original settlers were descendents of John Hathorne, the notorious chief justice of the Salem witch trials. They came to Maine in the 1700’s seeking to escape the tainted shadow Hathorne left upon the family name. Our docent capitalized on that air of eeriness with tales that encompassed deprivation, childhood death, and of course Christina’s disability.

Front Room, Olson House

Afterward we were free to roam the house which has remained as it was when Christina and her brother Alvaro lived there, and as it appears in many of Wyeth’s paintings. It’s an other-worldly experience walking into rooms that are hauntingly familiar, immersed in the same sense of place and light depicted by Wyeth, looking through the frames of windows he depicted to the views he recorded with a combination of faithfulness and artistic license.

Roofline, Olson House, no doubt the vantage from which End of Olson’s was painted in 1969.

Much has been said about Wyeth’s place in the lexicon of American painting, and I’m not going to debate that here. For me, his superior draughtsmanship, emotionally charged brevity, and compositional fluency negate any question of merit. But beyond those attributes, his paintings speak to a sense of Maine that anyone with a strong connection to the state would recognize, a quality that makes his work so intimately relatable.

If you’d like to dig a little deeper on the subject, let me recommend Christina Baker Kline’s novel A Piece of the World, a wonderful first-person portrayal of Christina Olson’s life inspired by her circumstances and her relationship with Andrew and Betsy Wyeth.

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On a more contemporary note, I was thrilled to walk into the Archipelago Store and Gallery of the Island Institute in Rockland and to discover an exhibit of wonderful paintings of lobstermen by Abe Goodale. On his website Goodale notes this series, the Eastern Waters project, is a tribute to the hardworking lobstermen of Penobscot Bay and that he “set out to capture a way of life, a generation upon the water and an industry that is thriving, yet fragile”. I think it’s remarkable how sensitively he portrays the toughness surrounding these men and their work.
I regret the quality of my photos is so poor.

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And finally, because I believe censorship is wrong, I am sharing a link to textile artist Salley Mavor’s recent story of being forced, ten days before the opening, to withdraw from her solo exhibition Liberty and Justice: New Artwork by Salley Mavor. The show had been in coordinated planning for a year.

In relating the circumstances, Mavor is careful not to cast aspersions on the organization/venue, its staff or volunteers. I truly hope you will take the time to read what she has to say. It is not a political rant, it is a measured response to where we find ourselves in society today. She says, “For me, the work is about stepping away from a safe, sheltered existence and into a very real reality, one where there is possibility for action toward making a difference in the world.”
I want to honor her request that links to her work be shared in order for it to be seen. Maybe you will too. It is so important that we work together to subvert censorship and support artistic freedom.

Regardless of your political stance , please take the time to explore Mavor’s website. Her work is beautiful, and if you share a love of nature, I’m sure you will find it both magical and delightful. Her creativity and skill with a needle are remarkable.

Many thanks to Eve Jacobs-Carnahan for bring this to my attention.

The Strength in a Single Voice

Vibrant color is hibernating at this time of year.
As I’ve discussed before, there is much to see and appreciate in the subtle tones that surround us during the winter months, but stick with me for a slightly different story.

Andrew Wyeth, Frostbitten, 1962, Watercolor on paper

While driving south on Route 89 the other day, I was casually appreciating the muted beauty of the roadside fields and hills when a tiny rectangle of brilliant fluorescent orange caught my eye. It was nothing but a small and temporary construction sign on Rte. 2 that runs alongside the highway, not exactly an item of any particular interest or visual appeal. But the strength of that spot of color in the midst of a world of neutrals was startling.

Andrew Wyeth, Flood Plain, 1986, Tempera on panel, 24.5 x 48 in.

I have been trying to think of works of art that push the concept of presenting judicious limitation of color while containing such a spark, and it has been something of a challenge to find many examples.

Andrew Wyeth, The German, 1975, Watercolor, 21 x 29 in.

Andrew Wyeth is the one artist who kept coming to mind. He was a master of the concept, as the paintings above illustrate.

One of the artists I follow on Instagram, architect and urban sketcher Simone Ridyard, is the best contemporary example I can think of who uses this device very effectively. While the general neutrality of her drawings make her spots of color leap off the page, each element balances the other by providing the perfect foil for appreciating the black lines of her sketches.

What other artists am I forgetting who also push this idea?

Color is so intoxicating that the desire to saturate and enrich a work with it can be overwhelming. (Matisse, you speak to our hearts!) But it’s also worth thinking of color along the the lines of this analogy: a full-throated chorus of many voices can make spirits soar, but the lone voice that breaks through silence has the power to lift us to equal heights.