Tag Archives: Spring

How Is An Artist Like A Maple Tree?

What a delightful week this has been!
With temps in the 60s, our snow piles are receding and the garden beds are reappearing. “Snow Moon” is now complete, just in time for me to turn the page on winter and to fully welcome spring.

SnowMoon2Trees

My last post showed the first of  4 panels for “Snow Moon”. This and the two below are the other three.

First a bit of news. I spent the better part of two weeks in February writing an 800 word narrative about my practice, weaving together the threads of background, inspiration and process in a peek behind the curtain of what I do. Happily, it was accepted as an “In The Studio” post for the Surface Design Association blog and was published there last week. Please take a look.

One tree with moon

Some figuring was necessary to be sure the moon read as a sphere despite the change in plane from the front of the house to the roof around the corner. I needed to create two circular stitched resist areas – one on each panel – adjusting each so when they came together the moon would read as one image

Moving on, this week’s post is all about sharing creative sparks.
I find fresh inspiration often accompanies the change of each season and, to that point, the last couple of weeks have set the stage for fresh ideas via an abundant line-up of online talks and exhibits, giving me much to think about and to be inspired by. Hopefully one or two of the links below will get your springtime creative juices flowing, much like the sap of our iconic Vermont maples.

3 trees

Of all 4 panels, this is my favorite.

First off, the Vermont Studio Center arranged for Janie Cohen and Rachel Moore, executive directors of the Fleming Museum and the Helen Day Art Center respectively, to have a conversation (watch here) about how they are navigating the choppy waters of taking their institutions forward with the goal of becoming more racially just. Cohen also addresses this monumental task in the Seven Days article “Vermont Museum Leaders Reflect on the Past and Pandemic Present to Rethink the Future“. The whole article is important, but scroll to the section entitled The Museum of Truth and Reconciliation for her contribution.

House shaped sides

Each panel is stretched over and basted to its corresponding house-shaped cut-out made of Peltex.

Last week was rich with separate real-time slide presentations/artist talks by Bisa Butler, Lissa Hunter, and Susan Brandeis, broadcast from Wisconsin, Maine and North Carolina. Each of these three inspiring artists sits on a different branch of the diverse textile-art tree. Take a trip through their websites to see their amazing work, or search Youtube where they all have talks/videos to view.

Stitching together

The sides are stitched together with a blanket stitch

It was a particular pleasure to listen and watch while one of my art heroes, Dorothy Caldwell, compared notes about practice and inspiration with her fellow artist and friend Claire Benn. Their conversation is also available on Youtube; watch it any time.

Completely Together

After long days of embroidery work, seeing the structure complete is always a treat

As Spring grabs hold of our spirits and senses, the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston is currently showing “Hockney – Van Gogh: The Joys of Nature“. It brings together two giants whose love of the natural world formed the basis for much of their work…perfect inspiration for this time of year! Listen to the accompanying lecture by Ann Dumas, consulting curator of European art, as she compares their work in detail, offering insights while guiding viewers through a tour of many of the pieces in the exhibition.

Finished right view

Snow Moon    ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk with foraged branches, 18.5H x 9″w x 7.5″D     The feeling of being in the woods is enhanced by the branches, don’t you think?

Finished left view

Snow Moon (alternate view) ©2021 Elizabeth Fram

Special thanks to a generous reader who alerted me to the opportunity to take a virtual walk-through of “Richard Diebenkorn, Paintings and Works on Paper, 1948-1992 at the Berggruen Gallery in San Francisco. Click on the Viewing Room tab of the gallery’s website to be granted access. It’s high-definition viewing at your own pace, with the ability to zoom in on Diebenkorn’s inspiring work.

Living With Distance 1

Living With Distance   ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye on silk with balsa wood and silk organza, 8.75″H x 6.5″W x 6.75″D    I snuck this piece in around the making of “Snow Moon”. Although similar to “Isolation“, the inner house in this one is smaller with brighter colors, suggesting adaptation and acceptance.

And finally, you may remember that in 2017 I wrote about the thrill of seeing works by Diebenkorn and Matisse together at SF Moma. In that spirit, and as a chaser to your shot of Diebenkorn at the Berggruen, check out the documentary “Becoming Matisse” in which Matisse’s great-granddaughter Sophie, an artist herself, accompanies us through the stories, family photographs, and locales where Matisse lived and worked. It reveals the person behind the icon.

Living with distance, view 2

Living With Distance   ©2021 Elizabeth Fram

Mud Season will soon be behind us and, with more and more people becoming vaccinated, we will all soon be out and about. Yet I can’t begin to express how meaningful all these opportunities have been in the interim. It’s particularly encouraging to hear art professionals from all sectors of our field continually mention how the pandemic has precipitated change in their work and institutions, generating adaptations that have made these benefits available in ways that weren’t imaginable a year ago.
I surely hope this new era of accessibility will continue. Please leave a comment and/or link if you have an online experience to share.

Slow Dancing With Color

Moving out of winter into spring isn’t an overnight event here in Vermont. The transition is a slow roll-out that offers plenty of time to savor the “two steps forward, one step back” nature of spring’s dance of color as it gradually returns to our landscape. Every day there is something else to notice, its discovery made all the more special by a muted backdrop and lack of visual competition.

United

United    ©2020 Elizabeth Fram, Ink and colored pencil on paper, 8.5 x 5.25 inches

Mulling this idea over, as one tends to do while out on a walk, it occurred to me that there is a connection between this slow unfolding of spring and the way my daily drawings are currently evolving.

Blue Curtains

Blue Curtains   ©2020 Elizabeth Fram, Ink and colored pencil on paper, 8.5 x 5.25 inches

The coronavirus may have stymied our weekly life drawing sessions at Maple Corner for the time being, but there are always other options. Lately I’ve been using the Sktchy app for my daily sketchbook practice. And while ordinarily I wouldn’t chose to draw from a photo, it’s surely better than not drawing at all. As with most limitations, it’s best to just look for any advantages and get on with it.

Yellow Shades

Yellow Shades   ©2020 Elizabeth Fram, Ink and colored pencil on paper, 8.5 x 5.25 inches

So, back to how Vermont’s transition to spring might inform my drawings.
First, part of the reason I notice and appreciate the measured changes that arrive as our surroundings reawaken is that I walk the same general route every day with Quinn. In a similar vein, I also tend to make the biggest discoveries in my work through daily repetition. I don’t mean repeating each drawing exactly, but rather echoing the same parameters (coffee cups say, or in this case, head-shot portraits of the same size, all made with ink and colored pencil). In doing so over and over, parallels begin to rise to the surface that, once noticed, plant a seed for how I might play upon and push those ideas further in each new drawing.

Red Glasses

Red Glasses   ©2020 Elizabeth Fram, Ink and colored pencil on paper, 8.5 x 5.25 inches

The second part of this so-called vernal theory is that limited color, thoughtfully placed in tandem with shapes and patterns composed of black marks and cross-hatching, create a sense of energy and interest (at least I think they do) that might be lacking in a work with more extensive and fully fleshed-out color. I can’t shake the idea that often the strongest work is the most concise. (And that’s a great goal for me to be chipping away at, especially in light of how intricate my current stitched piece is).

In Process Barbara

In Process   ©2020 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk, stitched area approximately 10 x 8 inches.    I still need to try to tone down that bulls-eye circle smack in the middle of her face. Hopefully as I do more to suggest her veil, it will help to solve the issue. I’ll have to keep the lessons from this post in mind, hopefully figuring out a solution without a full cover up.

One of the things I enjoy most about what I do is paying close attention to surrounding details and inferring unexpected connections from them. I can’t think of a better teacher than spring in Vermont to promote the lesson that you can often convey the most by saying the least.

A recent email from our local library reminds me that even though its doors are closed, our librarians are still hard at work offering our community valuable resources, such as virtual programming for all ages. I know that lot of folks are having trouble concentrating on reading at this time, and to some degree I count myself among them. But I’ve been listening to a ton of audio books while stitching and drawing, all coming through my library’s RB Digital platform, and it’s been exactly what I’ve needed.
See what your library has to offer, and say a quiet thank you to Ben Franklin for ensuring we have this resource in times of calm and of crisis.

First Blush of Spring

Our landscape is finally coming back to life. Each day there is something new to see as the browns and grays of mud season recede, making room for the richer hues of spring.

Spring 1

I have been watching for a solid couple of months as people who live elsewhere in the country  — and world — post images on Instagram of their neighborhoods as they green up.

Spring 3

We in the upper Northeast may be the last to arrive at the party, yet there is sweet reward in the feeling of having truly earned the colors that are re-emerging after a long, hard winter of visual restraint.

Spring 2

For those of us who relish the cycle of seasons, we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Spring 4

For now, our days are fluctuating between cold & rainy and warm sun, so the garden is unfolding slowly, making it possible to mark changes daily. I watch those details closely and am rewarded with a world of color in each square inch.

First Blush

First Blush, detail     ©2012 Elizabeth Fram        Stitching and paint on reclaimed bulk tea packaging and hand-dyed silk

For a dose of pure chromatic eye candy, Carl Holty’s Flowering brings the garden to the canvas. Read about him and see more of his lush work in this article in Art & Antiques.

Holty, Flowering

Flowering     ©1961 Carl Holty, 37 x 32 in., oil on canvas