Author Archives: ehwfram

About ehwfram

I am an artist living in Vermont, inspired by the day-to-day details of life.

The Art of Noticing

This doesn’t happen all that often, but I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out what to write this week. And then it occurred to me, perhaps that conundrum in itself is worth a few paragraphs.

The first pass of color literally sets the tone for what is to come

The challenge of finding something to share with you every other week, beyond just “I made this and then I made that” is a big part of what has sustained me in posting regularly for – can it really be? – nine years. Invariably, if I keep an eye open, something unexpected will spark an idea and from there it’s a matter of connecting the dots. My goal, of course, is that whatever that particular something is will be of interest to you as well.

Inspired by my sitter, drawing from my button stash was a no-brainer

So as I was driving to the grocery store several days ago, mulling over what I’ve seen, read, talked about with folks, and yes, been working on in the studio over the past couple of weeks, I was still coming up dry. But then it dawned on me: having nothing to write about is something to write about. In other words, running into walls is a given and finding a way around them is just as much a part of my (or any) practice as threading a needle and putting brush to paper.

The embroidery on this piece is relatively minimal. Not only does it encourage a viewer to slow down in her looking, but also to more closely considering the unique qualities of watercolor as the stitches and the washes work together. The hard and fluid edges throughout the work are another nod to the medium.

There’s no gliding through this game; every single detail is worthy of consideration. As Lorene Edwards Forkner of A Handmade Garden has written: “Noticing reveals the invisible”. So if I had to distill into a single element what it is that most feeds every part of my practice, both in and out of the studio, it comes down to two words: pay attention.

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While sewing the buttons on The Alchemist yesterday, I listened to a recording of Jeannet Leendertse talking about her work on Zoom. Leendertse forages seaweed (specifically Rockweed), that she sews into remarkable vessels and sculptural forms. As a native Mainer, I am intrigued by her use of this material that, as I grew up, was as common to me as grass.

Noting that she is highly aware of the materials she uses and the lasting impact of her creative process, Leendertse shared a link to Future Materials Bank, a resource that highlights sustainable materials gleaned from the waste stream and artists who incorporate them into their work. Check it out – you will be amazed and inspired.

Capturing the Essence of Time

Last week I visited the Julian Scott Memorial Gallery just in time to see Ken Leslie’s retrospective before it closed. It was a delight.

South Wall of Ken Leslie’s Retrospective, Julian Scott Memorial Gallery, Vermont State University, Johnson Campus

I have long been smitten with Leslie’s folded watercolor paintings that mark time through place and feature light and darkness as leading players. While standing and rotating on a singular spot, he portrays a location as a circle segmented into 24 sections, each describing an hour within a full day.

Ken Leslie, Uummannaq Equinox Cycle (detail), artist’s book, watercolor and colored pencil on folded paper, 2020, 1 page every hour for 24 hours. Created with support of Tuullik Art Center, Uummannak, Greenland

The progression captures both the mystery and the steadfast quality of the sun’s daily path.
In one sense, these works could be interpreted as an analogy for life itself, speaking to the nature of change: incremental, transformative and constant.

Depictions of Leslie’s home in Hardwick, as well as the eternal days and nights of Greenland and Iceland, meditate on the essence of the passage of time within the context of a single day.

Ken Leslie, Akureyri Winter Cycle artist’s book, watercolor and colored pencil on folded paper 2011/2012, 1 page every hour for 24 hours. Created with support of the Gilfélagið, Akureyri, Iceland

Equally stunning was a wall filled with one year’s Sky Journal and another year’s Night Journal — painted and conjoined views of morning and evening skies.

Ken Leslie, Sky Journal, 1998/1999, Watercolor on folded paper

A celestial log of sorts, these visual recordings are uncomplicated by forms other than clouds, the moon, and stars, revealing the unique quality of every day and every night.

Ken Leslie, Night Journal, 2009/2010, Watercolor on folded paper

Yet seen as a whole, there is a rhythmic, repetitious beauty that conveys a sense of comfortable cohesiveness despite the differences.

Ken Leslie, Sky Journal (left), Night Journal (right)

As the years speed up on us, don’t we all long for a way to slow down our days and to mark individual moments so that they aren’t all merged into a blur? Isn’t that one of the reasons people keep diaries?

Ken Leslie, Upernavik Summer Cycle artist’s book, watercolor and colored pencil on folded paper, 2014, 1 page every hour for 24 hours. Created with support of the Upernavik Art Museum, Upernavik, Greenland

How enlightening and apt these works are, depicting change melded into a circular whole rather than appearing in a linear succession with a beginning and an end. And how uplifting to witness and to be immersed in the sense of renewal this format suggests.

And on a different note:

Are you familiar with the Architecture + Design Film Series?

“The essence of design lies in its profound ability to affect how we think about and experience the world.”

You can attend Season 11, which occurs once a month from September 2023 through April 2024, for free in person in Burlington and Brattleboro, or watch virtual screenings online via the A+D homepage.
Here is a complete listing of screenings, dates, and information. The next event is Wednesday, December 13th.

Happy Thanksgiving!

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.

Filling the Well

Before I get to the point of this post, here’s a quick peek at what I’ve been working on lately. I have a way to go with the stitching in the tree, but I’m getting there. Gaining a bit of distance by being out of the studio has helped to resolve a couple of lingering questions while simultaneously stirring up some new ideas.

©Elizabeth Fram, in process

With that in mind, how do I encapsulate all the rich visual inspiration gleaned from a week in Lisbon? As I revisit my photos and sketch journal, it’s hard to miss the synchronicity between the many varied elements that caught my eye.

Here’s a small taste of what I saw.

Light

Targus Looking East

Color

Pink Street

Light & Color

Sunset

Patterns

Mosaic Path

Black and White

Passageways

Red Wall

Tiles…
ancient

Azulejos with textile motives, Cuerda Seca technique c.1500-1525

and contemporary

Textures

The Burel Factory is “a Portuguese brand, born in Serra da Estrela, dedicated to the preservation and regeneration of the industrial heritage, the deep knowledge of the wool industry that crosses generations, and the unique culture and traditions, its people and its history, that punctuate that same place”. It is a space where history, design and innovation come together, sustainably creating wool fabrics, garments, wall art and items for house & home. Words can’t express the beauty to be found there.

Murals

Fado

Spray Can

History

A distaff, needles and a pair of scissors on display in the museum of the Castelo de São Jorge. These archeological items were unearthed in the area surrounding the castle, a sign of the women who lived there.

Sculpture

And so many
Details

Keyhole

Finally, Innovation

The Dancing Lesson ©1707 Willem van der Kloet (1666-1747)

I have never seen such an innovative way of making art accessible to the sight-impaired. This and the following photos interpret the above tile painting, “The Dancing Lesson”.

Textures interpreting the figures within 3-D space

And describing the dancers’ elaborate costumes

It never fails, being immersed in a new environment tends to shake out of the brain. Given time and distance, the creative well always refills.

Something To Set Your Sights On

I have my eye on a bit of time off this week…

Latest Eyes

but first, two recommendations for you to consider:

Life in Five Senses

Gretchen Rubin’s book Life in Five Senses: How Experiencing the Senses Got Me Out of My Head and Into the World.

How To Academy Podcast

And, in an unexpected but interesting intersection with Rubin’s book, Susan Magsamen and Ivy Ross discuss “Your Brain on Art” on the How To Academy Podcast.

Enjoy, and see you in two weeks.

Eyes Ready

Fertile Ground

In addition to pumpkins and apples, changing leaves and crisp temperatures, a much-anticipated harbinger of fall in central Vermont is the beloved annual Art at the Kent exhibition in Calais. If you aren’t familiar with it, follow this link to acquaint yourself with the curators who accomplish this massive feat each fall, the distinctive venue which is as much a part of the show as the art itself, and specifics about this year’s exhibit, “Traces”.

I took very few photos when I visited last week, so this post is not a virtual tour. However, I can’t encourage you more strongly to go see for yourself; think of it as a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow — a beautiful drive through a lovely part of the world, arriving at a unique treasure of an exhibition.

What I keep thinking about in hindsight is the artists who had work in multiple mediums on display. I found it enlightening that the curators chose to represent the breadth of their practices as opposed to showing only pieces from a single discipline. Creative ground is fertile. As a viewer, I enjoy considering the potential expansion of an artist’s thought processes as one medium feeds another. Or perhaps, that’s not the case. It’s entirely possible that the only way to say what needed to be said was via another language. Either way, it added to my experience to see the variety.

Many of us branch out in our work, for any number of reasons. Cross-pollination deepens our discoveries, ultimately enriching both our experiences in the studio and our results. Diversification gives us more substance to draw from in future work.

The path from Point A to Point B is often circuitous, inconsistent and complex, but it usually ends up being well-worth the ride. Pay The Kent a visit; I’m sure you will agree.

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My friend and sculptural knitter Leslie Roth introduced me to Scottish knitwear designer Kate Davies a number of years ago. I have since knitted from Davies’ patterns and also read and been moved enough to write about her book Handywoman. While I’m not a regular follower of her blog, I dip into it from time to time, always enjoying what I find there. Her recent post “September Feeling” is one to share…its sentiment is as lovely as the accompanying photographs. If you feel a strong sense of connection to the place you call home, I think you will be able to relate.

The Turn

Looking to the right as you walk out of our driveway and head further up the hill, there is a sizable break between the trees. Framed by foliage on either side, it’s a window out into the distance — a lookout different from our own view, and a place from which to watch the weather come and go and to mark the changes, week by week, throughout the year.

Depending what sniffs are on Quinn’s mind and how anxious she is to keep moving, I often stand there for a moment, soaking up the colors and light of that particular time on that specific day. It’s never boring, no matter the season.

For the last couple of weeks we have begun to see evidence of the start of fall. It’s such an iconic moment to catch “the turn”, visible in the slightest touches of orange or red poking through all the green. It won’t be long until this hillside, except for the evergreens, is a fiery display of reds, oranges and yellows. Another episode of dog-walk TV, at its best.

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Here’s a Fall Foliage Prediction map for any neck of the woods.

Revisiting Philly

There’s nothing quite like a wedding to put a shine on the world. We’re just back from Philadelphia where family togetherness, perfect weather and a healthy dose of art made for a very special long weekend.

Blick Art Haul

First stop: Blick.
In my world, a trip to Blick is a major highlight during any city visit. With my very patient husband and daughter in tow, I made a beeline there to stock up. There’s no match for wandering the aisles and fingering the goods in person, and it was nice to have a few new things to try out in the hotel room between planned activities.

Nevermind the Phillies, Eagles, 76ers, & Flyers, IMHO one of Philly’s best claims to fame is that it’s home to one of the largest public art collections in the country. When we lived in Bucks County, 30 miles north of the city, life was too busy with raising kids to dive into the Philadelphia art scene as deeply as we might have – but what a pleasure to have a chance to enjoy it now.

Contrafuerte ©Miguel Antonio Horn Read more about this sculpture, seen in the Cuthbert Street alley as we left Reading Terminal Market.

The city’s 63 year old Percent for Art Ordinance mandates that any new City construction or major renovation project must include site-specific public art worth one percent of the total budget. So if you don’t have time to visit one of Philadelphia’s numerous stellar museums on your next trip, rest assured you’ll get an eyeful merely walking or driving from place to place.

Gratefully, this visit there was also time to check out a couple of museums.
The Philadelphia Museum of Art is currently showing The Artist’s Mother: Whistler & Philadelphia, a fortuitous discovery considering my current direction.

In addition to Whistler’s cornerstone painting, “Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1” (don’t miss this fun NPR piece about it), it was a treat to see other masters’ approach to portraying elder women. The emotional element between artist and sitter adds a bonus layer to each work.
If you’ve never seen Whistler’s painting in person, you should. She has the loveliest rosy cheeks and, much like the Mona Lisa, appears so much warmer than any reproduction seems able to convey.

And to cap it all off, my sister-in-law arranged for a fantastic docent-led tour for interested wedding guests at The Barnes Foundation the day of the big event. Founder Albert C. Barnes was a bit of an odd duck, as is evidenced by the way he insisted his collection be displayed into perpetuity. But there is no denying that the collection is spectacular, and it’s interesting to take into consideration his aims and perspective as you wander through the galleries. There were plenty of stunning portraits to absorb among the many other treasures.

And on a slightly different note, I was grateful for the chance to revisit this small watercolor by Charles Demuth – a painting that has remained a favorite in memory from my last visit to The Foundation over a decade ago.

And now, home again and back to work putting those new supplies to use!

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So many wonderful things to read – it’s hard to keep up.
Two of my latest favorites on Substack speak to two things that take up a lot of real estate in my mind and schedule most days: art and recipes. If you’re of like mind, take a look at Amy Allen’s Palate & Palette: Stories about people who make great art and food and Vicki Smith’s Easel to Table: Turning food into still life first and dinner second

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.

A Respite and A Request

I’m taking a bit of a respite this week to recharge and reinvigorate. But first, an update.
The portrait that I shared briefly at the end of my last post is now in its last phase. The paint work is finished and the embroidery is well underway.

First pass

I’m loving the variety of processes involved in these works – first, because there’s a certain challenge to pulling everything together, and secondly, because it’s so satisfying to see the piece materialize as each stage builds upon the one before.

Detail

In many respects this whole process is parallel to my my previous stitched-then-dyed-then-stitched work, it’s just that the scales are tipped more toward drawing/painting with much less stitching. The up side is that since these latest pieces move along so much more quickly, I can learn from, and then move on to the next piece to respond to, my mistakes – and my successes – without the huge lag time inherent in the textile works.

Happy accidents lead to fortuitous discoveries. Working on a dry run practice sheet for this section, I stumbled upon the fact that carelessly letting the paint extended outside the masked lines resulted in a flavor of batik. Hmmm, that opens the door to lots of possibilities. This is exactly the kind of discovery referred to above, which I can act on and explore more quickly because this piece is almost done.

And now my request:
I need of models for this series honoring the strength, wisdom and resilience of women of a certain age. If you (or someone you know) fit the bill, live in the central Vermont area and wouldn’t mind giving me 15-20 minutes of your time to take a quick series of head and shoulder photos of you to use as inspiration, please contact me.
ehwfram@gmail.com

Stitching

If you’re shy about having your picture taken, it may help to know that my painted results never turn out to be exact representations of my models – so it won’t be a portrait of you. Rather, your image would be a jumping off point. I’ve come to think of this process as something akin to literary historical fiction … based on fact, but with plenty of artistic license.
I would really like to continue with this series so thanks for considering, and I hope you’ll be in touch.

Oh – and be sure to come back next time for the full reveal of the finished piece!

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A special thank you to India Tresselt for alerting me to Loreen Edwards Forkner @gardenercook after my post on painting the colors of my garden. I have color on the brain now and it’s seeping into my sketchbook. You might enjoy Forkner’s book Color In and Out of the Garden, based on intentional observation of color in tandem with nature’s palette.

I’m not sure I could ever quite do justice to the dramatic blue of the sky and circus tent stripes in Montreal a couple of weeks ago, but Winsor Newton’s Cobalt Blue Deep gave me a fighting chance.