Category Archives: Discussion

Who’s Really In Charge?

I have to wonder sometimes, who’s in charge – the artist or the art?

When I began my latest portrait, I thought I had a pretty good handle on how it would progress. Having already stitched the white background pattern (shared with you in my last post) I fully expected to layer more paint and stitching both on top of that area and within the house shape surrounding the finished portrait.

Preliminary sketches provide space to try out possibilities

Experimental practice sketches like the one above nudged me toward a rich stew of color and texture, brought to life by painting over the stitched white pattern, adding brushstrokes to mimic stitching, and finishing with another layer of colored thread embroidery.

The next 5 photos follow the progression of this portrait at various stopping points. I take these images because they give me a bit of distance after each session, allowing me to see where to go next. Plus, I’m usually so tied up in a piece during the making that it’s a treat to go back later to revisit its evolution.

It’s all well and good to have a plan, but you also have to be willing to let it go. This turned out to be a classic example of thinking I knew where the piece was headed, but ultimately the work itself had the final say.

Winter Garden 2

Once I had removed the masking from around the house shape, I had to acknowledge – despite all my plans – that the white-on-white stitching didn’t need my interference. It seemed to say everything I needed it to, just as it was. In fact, overlaying the background with more color and texture felt unnecessary and superfluous.

Winter Garden 3

Often, both the easiest and the hardest part of the process is to step away, trusting that sleeping on an issue will weed out any uncertainties and allow for deciding what will be the right call. After taking an overnight timeout I felt satisfied that my instincts were correct. Sometimes the best approach is to just get out of the way and listen to the work.

Winter Garden 4

All of this leads to two contradictory nuggets of wisdom that have proven, many times over, to be invaluable to me:

When you think a piece is finished, keep pushing deeper, and
Less is more

Of course the tricky part is figuring out which is called for, when.

One last word on the subject of portraits…I received the happy news this week that I received an Honorable Mention Award from Teravarna Art Gallery in their “6th Portrait” competition.

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Substack is quickly becoming my new favorite reading spot.
In his “10 Things Worth Sharing” newsletter on Substack this week, Austin Kleon linked to an “Open Letter To The Next Generation Of Artists“, written by jazz greats Herbie Hancock and the recently deceased Wayne Shorter. Give it a read; it will give you a lift in return.

Women of Substance

Last month we lost a quietly powerful local artist.
For those of you who didn’t know Michelle Saffran or her work, please take some time on her website to become acquainted with her stunning altered photographs. And don’t overlook her poignant statements; they eloquently articulate her focus and intent.

Michelle ©2020 Elizabeth Fram Ink and colored pencil on paper, 14 x 11 inches Michelle was one of fourteen friend-volunteers who graciously sent me a selfie for my Covid-19 Drawing Project, soon after lockdown began.

Michelle’s photography is a haunting touchstone with place, memory, uncertainty, sometimes despair and ultimately hope — emotions that were certainly personal for her, yet are undeniably universal. She deftly found a way to illustrate both the uniqueness and the ubiquity of the human experience through moments captured on her camera and then further manipulated in her studio.

Learning of her death was a shock; I hadn’t even been aware she was sick. As I’ve revisited her website in the past couple of weeks, Hippocrates’ quote “Ars longa, vita brevis” kept coming to mind.

Michelle Saffran, Earth Danced Under A Hear Haze

Earth Danced Under A Hear Haze ©2018 Michelle Saffran, Inkjet print. Each image is made from 4 – 19″ x 13″ photographs sewn together to make one scroll measuring 19″ x 52″. This piece speaks to me about the mystery and power of nature. The juxtapositions are somewhat reminiscent of Jerry Uelsmann, yet with a voice that is clearly Michelle’s own.

However, in looking into the root of that quote it turns out not to mean, as I’d incorrectly assumed, that art lasts a long time while our lives do not. Rather, it refers to the fact that “it takes a long time to acquire and perfect one’s expertise and one has but a short time in which to do it”.

How true and ultimately sobering. It’s a clarion call to get back to work.

Winter’s Hush ©2023 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor, graphite and stitching on paper, 5 x 5 inches. The snow gods have smiled on us again, bringing peace to the winter landscape – and comfort in a time of loss.

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I recently stumbled across the work of Lalla Essaydi, and was wowed.

Bullets #3, © Lalla Essaydi

Being something of a crow in my love for pretty objects, her glittering piece “Bullet #3” immediately caught my eye on Instagram. I was intrigued to learn that the gold is actually bullet casings, gathered from American shooting ranges and woven together with wire. The casings symbolize violence and express Essaydi’s concern about the treatment of women following the Arab Spring. Her series “Bullet” and “Bullet Revisited” are about that violence projected on women, specifically physical violence during gatherings in the squares.
But there is so much more behind her photographs: considerations of space both physical and psychological, and women within those spaces. This short introduction doesn’t do her or her work justice. Set aside some time to visit her website to see and read more. Her statement is long, but captivating.

Art As Alchemy

It might be said that January represents change more than any other month.
For many, each new year opens the door to a fresh start – whether through newly forged resolutions or the hope of leaving the old year’s troubles behind. Either way, what better metaphor for the idea of transformation than the amaryllis?*

Signs of January’s hope & renewal: a new flower bud and baby bulbs growing from the sides of the mother plant.

I have accumulated more than a dozen of these plants and they remind me of the power of change every January. After a full year of watering and feeding, transporting them outside for the summer and then back inside to a cool, dark basement pantry for a 10-week autumn rest, my amaryllises have returned to our living room window sills.

The transformations that take place as a piece develops is like magic; it becomes addicting as one pushes forward. I try to take photos at various stages of each piece to track my progress. As you can see, not always in the best light at the end of a day.

With additional layers, the image begins to materialize.

Assisted by the lowered arc of December’s sun and our cozy evening fires, they’ve re-acclimated and are a glorious foil to January’s short, dark days, adding light and color where there might otherwise be gloom.

This piece began with the thought of incorporating a house shape (see previous pic) But as things moved along, I realized I had already gone too far for what I had in mind for this particular work, so the idea was nixed.

The outside garden may be snoozing soundly under a blanket of snow, but the transformation of these bulbs from papery and leafless lumps to vibrantly green and blooming is something of a winter miracle. Even though their flowers are short-lived, they are certainly worth all the tending and waiting.

Considering this painting’s overall tones are relatively muted, the accompanying stitch colors needed to be hushed as well. Pulling out hues from the portrait subtlety marries it with the background without overpowering either the image or the textural quality of the stitching.

With that thought in mind, I invite you to also think about the alchemy that is produced within an artist’s studio. By this, I’m not only referring to how raw materials are transformed into something new, but also, perhaps more importantly, to how those creations can fundamentally alter a viewer’s perceptions and foster communication. Yvahn Martin’s brief article “The Transformative Power of Art” discusses art’s communicative potential to enable and generate change in various positive ways – politically, socially and personally.

Still Waters ©2023 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor, graphite and stitching on paper, 11 x 8.5 inches I am settling into these portraits of older women with acknowledgment of and reverence for the paths they have laid out before us. This piece, in its relative subtlety, is a reminder that we all have stories that we may choose not to share. But those deep-seated histories still lie beneath the surface.

This week marks the opening of Transformation: Material, Environment, Us, a selection of artwork by the Vermont Members of the Surface Design Association, currently on view at Studio Place Arts in Barre, from January 25 – March 4, 2023. The exhibit meditates on the fundamental idea of change. I hope you’ll find time to visit and to consider not just how change is represented by each artist, but how their works may affect change in you.

Blooming

If you go, it’s a ‘three-fer’: 3 exhibits on 3 levels. See the info below for details.

*By typing “amaryllis” in the search bar to your right, you’ll see how these beautiful plants have made their way into my sketchbooks and this blog, year after year.

Sanctuary

The last week of the year is special.
All the hustle, bustle and added to-do’s that define December are now in the rear view, making way for pockets of time to sit back and think about what’s next.

Snow Moon & Firestorm

My final project of the year was a commission that a I’ve kept mum about until final approval. The directive was for it to be about a foot tall, a house nestled in branches and, similar to Snow Moon, covered with trees. Much like Firestorm, it was to be wrapped in a mantle of organza, this time embroidered with leaves. Prominent colors would be browns, oranges and greens. The aim was for the house to feel enveloped in nature and to represent, as my collector put it, “sanctuary from the crazy times we live in”.

Although not specifically asked for, this metallic copper-colored moon/sun seems to add just the right note of mystery

Working on such a relatively small scale carried a few unforeseen challenges, such as how to incorporate the organza cloak. But frankly, no piece would feel complete – or suitably satisfying – without a puzzle or two.

I dyed the organza to suggest the mottled colors of the tree canopy, and folded the fabric into a double layer to provide depth through color variation. The puzzle was figuring out how to embroider leaves so that the reverse, which would likely be visible, wasn’t a mess of knots and crossed threads. Sarah Homfray’s YouTube channel of embroidery tutorials is an amazing resource!

Now that it’s finished, it will soon be on its way to Texas. And in hindsight, I couldn’t have asked for a more positive note than the idea of “sanctuary” to close out 2022, or to prepare for the fresh page of 2023.

With that sentiment in mind, I wish you a peaceful new year – bright with the possibilities that lie in creativity. And I’ll look forward to reconnecting with you in a couple of weeks.
Happy New Year!

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Following through on the idea of sanctuary – my final suggestion/recommendation for the year:

I’ve had my eye on Jethro Buck’s work for a while. The Albert Einstein quote on his website landing page pretty much says it all: “Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better”.

Inspiration Over Perspiration

It was a relatively quiet Thanksgiving here on our hill, so for once, with less kitchen duties to tend to, artistic inspiration won out over culinary perspiration. Having the time to immerse myself in and to reflect upon the creativity of others was a gift.

Here are several recommendations I think worth passing along:

If you haven’t already seen them, be sure to check out the two new episodes of “Craft in America”: Inspiration and Home.
How have I not been aware of Diedrick Bracken’s spectacular woven tapestries before now?! Brackens is featured in the Inspiration episode.

the cup is a cloud, ©Diedrick Brackens, Woven cotton and acrylic yarn and mirrored acrylic, 74 x 78 inches, 2018

Because I have always been attracted to clay objects (little known fact: my first real job was potter’s apprentice), I was riveted by the segment on Syd Carpenter’s ceramic pieces in the Home episode.

Indiana Hutson ©Syd Carpenter, clay

Carpenter’s three sculptural series: Places of Our Own, Farm Bowls and Mother Pins resonate deeply, despite the vast differences between our heritages. I find her exploration of home and garden through the lens of African American owners and stewards of the land, interlaced with the connection between the land and strong female figures, quite moving. The forms she creates are absolutely lovely.

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Not a new book, but new to me, Ann Patchett’s series of personal essays in This is the Story of a Happy Marriage are outstanding. Her piece “The Getaway Car”, (also available as a stand-alone book), is a must-read for any creative. Reassuring and invigorating, this essay recounts her persistent life adjustments toward the goal of carving out room for the one thing that mattered most to her: writing. Eschewing inspiration, Patchett humbly credits her success to hard work and devotedly putting in the hours — on both good days and bad. Her insights ring true for any artist, regardless of medium. And she’s not too proud to remind us that doubts and worries come with the territory, no matter how far your practice takes you. Ultimately, as she so eloquently puts it, “the pleasure is the practice — to touch the hem of the gown that is art itself”.

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I also had time over the weekend to plow through to the end of this latest piece in my post-Roe suite. I’m not sure yet whether or not it will be the last. Frankly, the three pieces have been emotionally exhausting.

Eroded Boundaries, detail ©2022 Elizabeth Fram By stitching first and letting the paint flow over those stitches, then adding another sewn layer after the painting is complete, I’ve tried to straddle a space where the stitching adds another dimension, without overpowering the image. In the end, I really love the textural quality of the paint and the stitches working together.

The iconic “No Trespassing” warning fades, underscoring the fact that with the overturn of Roe a conservative Supreme Court has dictated the erosion a woman’s right to physical autonomy in this country.

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Finally, I invite you to check out Pigeon Pages, an online literary journal featuring prose, poetry, author interviews and more. Each written piece is paired with an artwork. It’s a wonderful online rabbit hole of creative diversion. I am so pleased and gratified to have been contacted by their art editor who requested the use of an image of “Isolation”, one of my sheltering-in-place houses, to accompany Rachel Lloyd’s recent award-winning piece, “Unraveling”. Both pieces can be seen/read in their entirety, here.

Unraveling Header

Now that Thanksgiving is behind us, December will sweep by in a flurry. Wishing you a creative season of inspiration and perspiration before January arrives.

A High Bar

When was the last time you saw a portrait that truly made you think…an image that asked more of you than simply observing another human’s likeness? This idea has been much on my mind as I work on my current series of post-Roe women. A portrait can and should be so much more than just a pretty (or not) face.

These close-ups show that I added stitching both before and after painting the image in this latest piece. Taking a leaf from previous work, I first used white cotton thread on the unpainted paper, knowing it would absorb pigment and allow for the texture of the stitches to melt into the image. Additional stitching after the paint had dried allowed for further definition of the “bars”. My goal is to show that post-Roe restrictions cut deeper than just a physical cage; taking away one’s autonomy is actually absorbed into the psyche of an individual.

In an unexpected instance of kismet, I was recently able to delve a bit deeper into this question by experiencing the work of a contemporary master of the genre, one who engages far beyond solely portraying an accurate visage.

Additional stitching is done with variegated silk thread after the painting is finished

I first became aware of Kehinde Wiley’s work with his celebrated 2018 portrait of Barack Obama. It was a thrill to have seen that painting in Chicago last year when the Obama Portraits began their official tour. My excitement was partly due to the cultural significance of the work, but also to my admiration for its subject. It’s indisputable that Wiley’s artistic facility is remarkable.

A couple of weekends ago, at The Huntington Library, Art Museum and Botanical Gardens of San Marino, CA, I was privileged to see another Wiley portrait in a context that reflects the mission behind much of his work: “disturb(ing) and interrupt(ing) tropes of portrait painting (by) blurring the boundaries between traditional and contemporary modes of representation…”. *

Kehinde Wiley A Portrait of a Young Gentleman

A Portrait of a Young Gentleman ©2021 Kehinde Wiley, oil on linen, 70 1/2 x 49 1/8 inches, collection of The Huntington Library, Art Museum and Botanical Gardens. From the label text: Kehinde Wiley’s “A Portrait of a Young Gentleman” glows. The sitter wears a tie-dye shirt and Vans sneakers, and he was likely scouted and street cast near the artist’s studio in Dakar, the coastal capital of Senegal. This beachy, cool young gentleman echoes his counterpart: Thomas Gainsborough’s “The Blue Boy”, painted some 250 years earlier, in The Huntington’s collection. …Wiley makes us see that self-fashioning, pomp, and posturing are qualities not only of eighteenth-century English society, but also of contemporary street fashion and global black culture. While Gainsborough’s figure stands in a landscape setting, Wiley’s model is ensconced in a field of psychedelic flowers, which both surround and obscure him. The floral background is based on a William Morris wallpaper pattern, similar to those in The Huntington’s collections.

Growing up in nearby Los Angeles, Wiley often visited the Thornton Portrait Gallery at the Huntington as a young person, becoming enamored of the style of the British grand manner portraits displayed there. But he was acutely aware that the people in those paintings didn’t look like him. In the gallery text, the Huntington notes that Wiley’s current work seeks to rectify the omission of Black and Brown subjects by appropriating and remixing classical stylistic elements in a way that is both a love letter to art history and a critique of it.

The Blue Boy 1770 Thomas Gainsborough, Oil on canvas, 70 5/8 x 48 3/4 in., Collection of The Huntington Library, Art Museum and Botanical Gardens

To commemorate the 100th anniversary of the 1921 purchase of Thomas Gainsborough’s “The Blue Boy”, Wiley was commissioned by the Huntington to create “A Portrait of a Young Gentleman”. The two paintings are the same size, set into identical frames (one gilt and the other painted black) with the subjects sharing a similar stance. “A Portrait of a Young Gentleman” literally faces-off against “The Blue Boy” in ‘High Noon-esque’ fashion. The two larger-than-life portraits bookend opposite ends of an enormous gallery that is filled with classic eighteenth century portraits, all of which speak to the conventions of glorification, history, wealth and prestige that Wiley’s contemporary depictions of urban young men call attention to and reference in a reflection on the complex issues of power.

Caged Again ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor, graphite and embroidery on paper, 12 x 9.5 in. This piece speaks to both the internal and external restraints that the draconian overturn of Roe places on women within this country, regardless of age.

The juxtaposition is thought-provoking, uncomfortable and ever-so-important.
Such is the power of art…and a high bar to aim for.

The central axis of the Huntington Botanical Gardens barely scratches the surface of the extensive delights that await. Mixing geometric forms within the lush organic shapes of flora is one of my favorite horticultural devices.

On a more general note, between the art museum, the extensive themed gardens and the library collections, there is much to learn and absorb at the Huntington; a half day was nowhere near enough time to spend there. The next time you head to Los Angeles, consider a side-trip to San Marino. My fingers are crossed I’m able to return one day.

*Excerpted from Wiley’s website

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As I write, I have been somewhat distracted by the movement of trees outside the window above my desk. They are electric with color, releasing their leaves to dart and swoop on the wind like pods of playful dolphins. I know for many this is a melancholy time of year, with winter soon to follow. But for me, it’s like the woods have put on their cheeriest party dress and are celebrating the last hurrah of a summer well-spent. Thinking somewhat along the same lines, check out the raucously exuberant draughtsmanship of Esteban del Valle – a party on the page!

The Third Leg

One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned from faithfully maintaining this blog over the past 8 years is how key writing has become to my practice. I often think of it, along with drawing and stitching, as the third leg of my artistic stool.

Layers of color, and the happy accidents that occur as those colors mix, contribute to what I find most intriguing about watercolor. Stitching over those passages is a big risk.

I’ve learned that writing opens the door to unconscious ideas, ushering them to the surface. It’s something of a secret weapon which quite often not only directs my next steps, but also helps to crystallize a better understanding and articulation of whatever I am working on in the studio at the time.

But if done carefully and consciously, stitching adds a dimensional component that enhances the paint.

This phenomenon proved true once again while working on my quarterly newsletter late last month (have you subscribed yet?). In writing a description of my gravitation toward painting images of elder women, something came to mind.

The point of adding stitches is texture – both visual and physical. Stitching also provides another means for creating definition within the image, such as the left side of the house shape, as seen below.

I had already incorporated the suggestion of a house form surrounding the head of the subject in the early stages of outlining the composition of this piece, but as I wrote, the idea of protecting one’s personal boundaries (home) came to mind — specifically in relation to the fight of older generations of women for equal rights and for control of our own reproductive choices.

It wasn’t too big a stretch to draw a line between that feminist history and the idea that the overturn of Roe v Wade this past June is akin to burning down someone else’s house.
The result is “House on Fire”.

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Among many other wonderful things, September/October means the return of Art at the Kent, the annual exhibition at the Kent Museum in Calais. Always fabulous, endlessly inspirational and a testament to the wealth of brilliant artists that call the Green Mountain State home, it’s a must-see event in a setting that is uniquely Vermont.
I’ve written about it’s magic before.

The Wayward Bench © George Sawyer paired with Mud Season 9 Patch #11 © Rosalind Daniels Just one stunning example of the eclectic pairings on view in “Interplay” at the Kent Museum

This year Art at the Kent presents “Interplay” from September 9 – October 9. Don’t miss it!

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.

My #1 Investment

First, my thanks to those of you who commented on my last post with your own reading recommendations. If you didn’t see those contributions, be sure to check them out. I have one more quick addendum of my own: the Strong Sense of Place podcast #65 centers on museums and includes an intriguing line-up of museum-related reading to dive into.

Meanwhile, I’m feeling pretty good about having taken care of a necessary chore by weeding through and reconfiguring the portfolio section of my website. Doing so is one of those time-consuming admin duties that accompanies uploading a chunk of new work. One change inevitably leads to another, so making these edits is always a bigger job than I anticipate – which is why I tend to drag my feet getting started. Spending days in a row at the computer feels like such a waste in the moment, but I have to admit the results are very satisfying once the job is done.

Daily Rhythms

As I began, I took a step back to try to see the big picture and it occurred to me that pretty much everything I make falls into one of two categories: “Daily Rhythms” or “Portraits”. So this time, rather than organizing my work chronologically, I’ve grouped all series under those two umbrellas. Ostensibly it may seem like just a menu change, but there’s a lot more behind the switch. The results feel crisp and concise. I invite you to explore the new drop-down menus to see what you think.

Portraits

Lastly, I’m doggedly plowing my way through the Stillman & Birn Beta sketchbook that I’ve devoted to portrait sketches this summer. With each new addition I learn a little more and feel more confident in the results. Practice makes for progress, and as I work ideas are beginning to hatch in anticipation of completing the last page and moving forward toward stand-alone pieces that incorporate stitch.

I’ve been concentrating on these two projects since mid-June and working on them has reminded me that the most important investment I can make in the studio is simply time. Time to practice, time to think things through and reevaluate, time to make mistakes and definitely time to experiment.
Overall, I think it’s starting to pay off.

Chipping Away at The List

My husband was recently bemoaning his seemingly endless project list.
It got me to thinking that, while superficially I too would love to check everything off my long string of to-do’s, in all honesty I don’t believe it’s a finish line either one of us really wants to cross, mainly because…then what? Seen from a certain perspective, always having something in the queue may be the secret that propels us forward.

I think the practice of making art is similar. If we’re doing it right, every day is a stretch leading to another stretch, and then another, and so on. It may seem like we want to get “there”, but do we really? Does “there” even exist? If every time I sat down to make something it just flowed out with ease, my guess is I’d get bored. Keep in mind that achieving a level of facility isn’t the same thing. For me at least, the challenges I set for myself and the resulting growth are perhaps more than half the point of doing the work in the first place. One could always use another 10,000 hours.

As I’ve been adding portraits to my sketchbook this month, I keep chipping away at assorted goals. My current “there” is to simplify, to make a conscious effort to rein myself in despite my love for detail and my desire to pack in lots of visual information. The big question is how does one do that while depicting a human’s individuality and alluding to what lies beneath the surface?

Along the way I’m discovering my own vocabulary, but I continue to look for pointers from other artists who seem to have figured out this mystery of distilling an image down to its essence. Joe Ciardiello sets a great example. His portraits capture a likeness and plenty of additional information with a relatively spare, but oh-so-expressive line. Often he fleshes the image out with just enough color to bring it further life, and/or offsetting that warmth with rich passages of black ink. Without fuss, his drawings seem to convey the soul of his subject. I’d love to be able to do that.

If we still lived in the mid-Atlantic, I would have enjoyed going to see Ciardiello’s recent exhibit “A Fistful of Drawings” at ArtYard in Frenchtown, NJ. However, I was able to listen to him talk about the show with Gil Roth on The Virtual Memories Show podcast. It was fascinating to hear him describe his thought processes and the technicalities of his approach, nevermind how heartening it was to recognize similarities between our working methods. He too begins each portrait with a subject’s eye, finding it key to a successful start. We share a preference for drawing older models: he says the lines of their faces reflect a deeper story — I just find the topography of an older face more interesting in general. And perhaps most reassuring of all, he freely admits to continuing to make many mistakes.
What could be more inspiring than that?