Tag Archives: watercolor

Leap of Faith

Mind Palace 1

I might have called this finished.

Mind Palace 2

But instead, I held my breath and lifted as much paint as I could outside a house shape that I had superimposed over the subject’s central features.

Mind Palace 3

It was my intention that by embroidering outside the house shape, the painted and stitched areas would stand apart from each other, yet still work together.

Mind Palace 4

The embroidery blurs details, such that texture becomes the overarching descriptor. It’s a quality I quite like – especially when paired with the untouched watercolor.

Despite the variation, the finished product still reads as a whole and I’m very pleased with the added dimension the stitching contributes. That’s not to say there aren’t a number of kinks still to work out. Taking this shot in artificial light emphasized the house shape to a degree that isn’t as easy to see in natural light. But that’s a puzzle for the next time around.
Regardless, the leap of faith was worth it.

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It’s a new world out there – but check out the following and chalk one up for the little guy: artists fight back against AI.

Gearing Up

After a hiatus of a year and a half, it looks as though our Life Drawing sessions will start up again in early September. Here’s hoping the rising variant numbers don’t interfere with that.

Supplies

In the meantime, I’ve been gearing up by getting back into practice mode and collecting supplies along the way. I’ve had plenty of time to experiment with new materials over the past 18 months, so my kit will be a little different from what it was when we last got together in March of 2020.

The biggest change will be paper. Be forewarned – this is a deep dive into options, probably best suited to those of you who draw.

Before the pandemic I had been using Canson Edition paper exclusively. It’s 100% cotton and acid-free with two deckle edges and two distinct sides, one smooth and the other slightly textured. It’s a good workhorse that accepts a variety of media. For my purposes, its greatest asset was in capturing the marks of my ultra fine (.03) graphite. The downside is it doesn’t show off colored pencil as richly as I might have hoped.

Scott, detail

This past year, working smaller & mostly in sketchbooks, I discovered several new options as I began working more with watercolor in addition to ink and graphite.

Stillman & Birn makes sketchbooks with eight different types of paper. The Beta Series is my favorite. It has a lot of great qualities: acid-free, bright white paper that handles ink and watercolor beautifully and, despite being cold press, has a surface that my pen seems to glide across effortlessly. Each page has some real heft (180 lb) so there is no rippling and it stands up to erasing without damage. Plus, it’s a good weight for stitching if, as with my garden paintings, I choose to go that route. Happily, it’s also available in 22 x 30″ sheets, giving me lot of flexibility with size.

I’ve also been experimenting with toned paper.
Strathmore 400 Series Toned Mixed-media paper (acid-free, 184lb, 9×12″ sheets) takes ink and other wet media well, while its smooth surface amplifies the marks of colored and pastel pencils the way I like.

Stillman & Birn Beige toned sketchbook, 8 x 10 inches

I also just bought, but haven’t yet tried, a Stillman & Birn Nova Series beige-toned mixed-media sketchbook. The 90lb paper will take ink and light washes, so I expect it will be good for general practice, as is my Global Hand Book sketchbook.

Bryan ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Graphite, ink and watercolor on paper, 11 x 8.25 inches. Global Art Hand Book Artists Journal. This paper is also able to take a light wash, but note the rippling on the right, captured when I scanned the image.

Experimentation is half the fun, and it’s great to have a few new options. Whether or not we actually make it back to meeting in person – and I really hope we do – it’s exciting to think about as I get prepared.

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If you aren’t one of my newsletter subscribers (you can sign up here), you will have missed my notice that next week I will be participating in a panel discussion with 3 other artists who also have work in the ongoing exhibition Hidden Messages: Old and New, on Wednesday, August 18th @ 7pm. I hope you will join us – the details and link to registration are below.

Artists Talk

Signify: A Conversation about Meaning and Technique

will be moderated by Leslie Roth, with a panel of
Jennifer Davey, Marya Lowe, and yours truly.
The presentation is free and open to the public; register here.

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Instagram of the week:

It doesn’t have to be all about fancy, store-bought paper. Check out the work of @peter_rush_drawings. He often draws on the inside of cardboard packaging – a novel take on toned paper!

Color Maps

What is it about grouping colors together that is so enticing? Have you ever left a paint store with only the color chips you came in for? Neither have I.

This is a pretty cramped area to work in so I am planning to expand into another part of my studio. While I didn’t buy any new paints (see below), I did order a new porcelain palette. This old one that I’ve previously used with textile paints is versatile, yet I wanted something with a larger flat area for mixing. After a bit of research, I ended up ordering a rectangular porcelain sushi plate rather than a formal palette. Not only will it fit my work area better, but it doesn’t have paint wells, which were the often-mentioned caveat in review after review of various palettes.

A big part of my attraction to watercolor is the transparent layering of hues, as well as the flow and interaction between them. Pair that appeal with a love for the colors and forms of plants and you have a near perfect recipe for endless exploration.

Showell Fruit and Veg Portraits

Over the years I’ve collected a number of books of painted flora, the vast majority in watercolor. This week I’ve been re-reading Billy Showell’s 2009 book Watercolour Fruit & Vegetable Portraits. Her botanical studies are strikingly accurate while retaining a sense of informality. It’s a given that anyone who writes such a book will spend the first chapter or so going over their chosen materials. Often I’m inclined to skim those sections and move on, but Showell goes a lot deeper than most in discussing her palette, particularly regarding primaries. It’s important information.

I wish I’d thought to do this earlier, but I realized with a bit more of one color or another I could add a sidebar to a swatch to give an indication of it’s range, leaning warm or cool.

For instance, she mentions that there doesn’t seem to be a single paint that is a true primary, so she will mix a cool and a warm version of a color (e.g. Cadmium yellow pale and Cadmium lemon) in order to get as close as possible to a near perfect primary. As you can imagine, this is key info for mixing greens, the mainstay of plant portrayal.

I was impressed with the range of greens I could get and with the added depth in them as the two colors of a given mixture settled somewhat separately as they dried. Genuine Serpentine, in the lower right corner, is the only green straight from the tube.

Before adding any of the colors she recommends to those I already have, I figured I’d see how my current palette stacks up. Not bad, as it turns out. In fact, the range of secondaries I can get from the various primaries I have on hand is pretty impressive. And that doesn’t begin to take into account the full range of color that is possible from any mixture of two colors, depending on how you adjust the percentage of each.
It also turns out that making these little swatches is incredibly relaxing in it’s own right. Give it a try.

The oranges, on the other hand, weren’t quite as varied.

Another watercolorist I’ve long admired and look to for guidance is Charles Reid. His work, unlike Showell’s, is loose and spontaneous, such that it truly celebrates the unique qualities of the medium. He is also a master of the lost and found edge, but that is another discussion.

As I work on my stitched garden paintings this summer, I hope to find a happy medium somewhere between Showell’s skill for description and Reid’s expressiveness. Figuring out how to incorporate each stitched house form, while capitalizing on both those aspects, creates an unexpected bridge between the two.
And while I’m practicing, I will be happily lost in color.

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I finished the puzzle piece mentioned last post and sent it off to the We Are All Connected Art Project. While scrolling through to see the latest pieces added, it was a happy shock to discover that Ai Weiwei had also contributed. My guess is that’s the first and last time I will have any overlap with him, but I’ll take it!

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Watch for more details about this upcoming exhibit in my next post, 2 weeks from now.

Hidden Messages: Old and New at the Chandler Gallery in Randolph, VT • July 10 – September 5, 2021

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Three artists who often share their lovely dye and watercolor swatch work on Instagram are Mirjam Gielen @mirjamtextiles, Rachel Kahn @vermontknitter and Paul Wang @paulwang_sg

Repetitio mater studiorum est

“Repetition is the mother of all learning”

The past couple of weeks I’ve been painting glasses of water.

I’m interested in the distortion of the cloth’s pattern seen through the water, and the challenge of capturing the effect of light on both the glass and the liquid.

Having a repetitive subject like this to sink my teeth into is probably one of the best ways for me to learn and to grow (think scales on the piano). But in order to maintain interest it’s just as important that there is sufficient variety and an adequately steep challenge.

I’m finding enough similarity between subjects that I am starting to sense a recurring order and structure with each new sketch, while the variables of pattern and color between them (as well as the desire for improvement) is the substance that is keeping me thoroughly engaged.

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I searched a few of my heroes to see what they did with the subject

Mark Adams, Black Water Jar, 1982. Aquatint, 16.25 x 16.75, Teaberry Press, Edition of 30

David Hockney, Postcard of Richard Wagner with Glass of Water, 1973. Etching, 8.5 x 6.1, Edition of 100

Wayne Thiebaud, Drink, 1999-2002. Oil on panel, 26.6 x 29.8cm

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Check out Marc Taro Holmes answer to the question: “When practicing drawing, do you recommended drawing the same thing till it becomes perfect or drawing different things every day?”

Also – if you are relatively local, I just noticed that Marc will be giving the workshop “Still Life in Watercolor” on December 2nd at the Helen Day Art Center in Stowe.

3 Jalapeños

I’ve been seeking a change from the black and white of ink drawings — perhaps inspired by all the late season color in the garden? …but also knowing I’ve let watercolor sketching slide for a while. I have mountains to scale in learning about color and before I will feel comfortable; to say it’s humbling is an understatement. Yet the pure beauty of transparent color is irresistible and, for the moment anyway, I’m enjoying having such a steep challenge to sink my teeth into.

What I think I appreciate most is the aspect of walking the very thin line between an illusion of control and recognition that, especially at this early point, results are more reliant upon serendipity than skill. Right now I would say I’m at 25% control, 75% serendipity – and that may be overly generous. But I trust with time and practice I can begin to see the numbers move in the opposite direction.

Charles Reid continues to be my go-to guide. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my mother-in-law for introducing me to his work years ago.
What living artist has taught you the most?

These 3 sketches were from yesterday. I learn a lot through repetition and variation. And it’s interesting to see how my feelings about each has changed with a bit of distance and a good night’s sleep. Converting to black and white in Photoshop is also a good learning tool.

While the washes were drying I did the Shibori stitching for 3 small new pieces. Stay tuned for the dyeing results next week.

Perennial Inspiration

I don’t remember exactly when it was I bought Sara Midda’s 1981 book In and Out of the Garden, but it must not have been too long after it came out. Years before I was able to have a garden of my own, that little book has graced my bookshelf in all our many homes, serving as an inspiration and a reminder of the universal beauty and solace to be found in the magic that results from adding seeds to soil.

The main draw for me is Midda’s tiny watercolor images, luminescent and charming. Paired with her hand-lettered text of quotes, historical facts, poetry, and recipes, I have always found a gentle delight in reading and rereading this book that underscores much of the way the world of horticulture captures the imaginations of those of us inclined to garden.

In 1990 she followed up with Sara Midda’s South of France – A Sketchbook, and in 2014 A Bowl of Olives: On Food and Memory was released. I was quick to buy copies of each as soon as I learned it was out, happy to become re-immersed in Midda’s eye for the details that honor the essence of the unsung elements that surround us, things we tend to take for granted but which give such a strong sense of place and moment. All three books are meditations of a sort, quiet picture books with “more”. To some degree I am sure appreciation for her observations have had some lasting sway on my own choice of subjects.

Detail ©2017 Elizabeth Fram In the end, I think it’s the “conversation” between the diversity of pattern, evident in both the stitching and the stitched-resist pattern, that pulls the piece together, making it whole.

Despite looking, I haven’t had much luck learning more about Sara Midda. There is relatively little information about her on the web other than a few promotional articles and blog posts marking the release of each book. Disappointingly, she doesn’t seem to have ever had a website. So I was thrilled to discover that Danny Gregory* conducted a 40 minute video interview with her on his Sketchbook Club blog last week. How lovely it is to hear her talk about her process and the history of these books. Outwardly quiet and gentle, just like her art, it was one of those rare occasions when all elements seemed to add up.

Have you had a similar experience with a book that has had a lasting impact on you? Please fill us in…

*I credit Danny Gregory’s book Everyday Matters and his original blog of the same name as being the instigation behind spurring me to commit to drawing regularly. I have no doubt his welcoming and encouraging approach, pointing out the huge benefits to be gleaned from drawing, regardless of ability or experience, has been one of the main driving forces behind awakening or reinvigorating the desire to draw for thousands of people. If you aren’t familiar with him, check out his site.