In 2012 I made a series of pieces that incorporated synthetic bulk tea packaging as their primary “fabric”. The bags were cut, collaged together with snippets of silk, and then heavily embroidered. Looking at those pieces now I still find the effect of the bags’ crinkled matte black and metallic-printed surfaces, offset by the seemingly more organic resist-dyed silk and fields of hand-stitching, creates a visually enjoyable textural combination.
Cup of Enchantment ©2012 Elizabeth Fram, 9.5 x 11 inches, Painted and stitched collage of synthetic bulk tea packaging and resist-dyed silk.
I noted in my statement for that series that it had been strongly influenced by growing up among family members who were often quite ingenious at repurposing worn-out everyday objects so they could serve a second life beyond their originally intended use. It’s a mindset that encourages one to look at materials with a sense of possibility.
©2018 Elizabeth Fram, 27 x 27 inches, Stitched-resist and dye on raw silk. This week’s result. Note that with this iteration the underlying grid is not regular, but of varying sizes.
Thinking somewhat along the same lines, haven’t we all experienced an unplanned “accident” (i.e. potential disaster), when something goes awry mid-process — like an errant splotch of paint or a tear in the silk when the the seam-ripper slips? I count it a successful day when I can come up with a way to switch gears with a solution that not only makes the work even more effective than originally planned, but which fits the piece well enough that it appears to be a choice I intended all along.
Detail 1
In that light, you won’t be surprised that I was inspired and amused by these 15 examples of artists creating a fix that makes their results so much more engaging than the unmodified original.
Detail 2
This is why I never plan too far ahead in my process; doing so tends to be a sure recipe for frustration. Being open to possibilities has led to results that are often more successful than I could have planned ahead of time, and I’ve discovered that the process of working through unanticipated issues is far more rewarding than going from start to finish without any snags.
How about you? Can you relate?
Hearthstone Anecdote We moved into our house when there were still a fair amount of details left to complete. One of the many things on that to-do list was finishing our fireplace and laying down the hearthstone. Choosing a beautiful piece of soapstone for it’s color and pattern, I felt especially lucky that the stone seller had just enough left for what we needed. The day it was due to be laid in place, our builders were cutting it to size on our front deck. Suddenly there was a noticeable quiet and their heads were tightly grouped together in discussion. It was obvious from the uncharacteristic whispering that something must be seriously wrong. It turns out the stone had broken in half and, knowing it couldn’t easily be replaced, they were mortified. This is one instance when I truly believe all the practice with studio disasters was a saving grace. That and the fact that not too long before I had read about the Japanese art of kintsugi. With a bit of research and the benefit of local artisans who generously shared their knowledge of metals, we were able to join the two halves with bronze (really a bronze powder stirred into a fixative that allowed it to flow in place without heat), resulting a lovely metallic vein that makes for a one-of-a-kind hearthstone that I think is far more beautiful and interesting than it would have been without the unexpected snafu. Plus, it’s become one of my favorite memories of our house-building process.