Category Archives: Winter

Art Stew

A little of this and a little of that – in one big stew for you this week.
First, a story…

The first year my husband and I were married, we moved from one coast to the other and I took a drawing class at the local community college to get my bearings in a new state and town. In class, I became friends with a woman who was then probably about the age I am now. She was very warm and smart and, since she loved art as much as I did, we had much to talk about. She had a relatively thick accent and before long shared with me that when she was a child, she and her family had escaped from the Nazi invasion of Ukraine.

Aldona’s Amber

The school year ended and soon after so did my husband’s internship. As we prepared to move back across the country, Aldona gave me this amber necklace in parting. It was a special gesture of friendship and all the more meaningful as she said it had come from her homeland. It was a piece of her.

Over the last couple of weeks, as I’ve anxiously watched Russia’s horrific invasion of Ukraine, her gift has taken on even deeper meaning. I look at the hardened gems of amber in this necklace and think what an apt and sadly beautiful metaphor it is for the strength, resilience and resolve the people of Ukraine are exhibiting in the face of Putin’s threat to their sovereignty and their lives. I never dreamt this necklace would carry such significance beyond the memory of a friend from a specific time and place, but it certainly does.

❖

On a less somber note:
Except for framing, the piece I’ve been working on for the past 8 weeks is now complete. Once the portrait was finished, I decided to add the “x” purely as a design solution, not with any particular meaning in mind. It grounds the head so that it doesn’t appear to be just floating in space — an effect that had been amplified by the shibori-dyed background. ‘Head in the clouds’ was my working title for much of the process as it described her translucence as she took form. But now, with the added element of the “x”, Rooted in Dreams seems more appropriate.

Shopping Tip:
I recently learned about Swanson’s Fabrics in Turners Falls, MA from artist Cari Clement. It’s the kind of place anyone who works with textiles should know about. The shop’s mission is to offer affordable materials and sewing supplies while simultaneously aiding/encouraging sewing enthusiasts to release (or at least reduce) their overflowing stashes. With the added bonus of keeping all that extra fabric out of the landfill, Swanson’s is the definition of a win-win-win enterprise.

And finally…
With Daylight Savings starting this weekend, along with the recent spate of sap-running days, Winter has begun the first verses of its swan song. But before it fully releases its grasp (another 8-15″ possible on Saturday!), immerse yourself in a final taste of snow and ice at the Cultural Center of Cape Cod’s online exhibit “Winter Magic”. My piece Floe is included.

Floe, detail ©2015 Elizabeth Fram, Dye, Paint and Embroidery on Silk, 12 x 12 inches. Inspired by the pared down beauty of the winter landscape, this and its companion piece ,”Crystallized”, were meant to portray the essence of the season rather than an actual place. Read about the genesis of their creation in the post February’s Self-Restraint.

The following haiku, from another long-ago post on these two wintery pieces, bears repeating

Seamstress
Long needles of ice
Stitch the open water up
On a winter pond.

Snow Moon

This Saturday’s full moon (February 27th) will be 2021’s Snow Moon. It’s known as such because typically more snow falls during February than any other winter month…a designation I see as an attribute.

Planning for areas of snow in my next piece, it was necessary to keep those fabric sections free of dye. This is my first experience with “capping” (wrapping the areas meant to be protected in plastic)

I still get as excited about winter weather advisories foretelling heavy snowfall as I did when they held the promise of a day off from school. Now though, they signify a cozy day in the studio with multiple steaming cups of tea and the best possible natural light to work by.

So far, so good. The capping seemed to work pretty well. Note the “pleated” shibori area that abuts the plastic. It is purposely dyed a lighter color.

Admiring Carol O’Malia’s snowscapes at a local gallery several years ago, I was surprised when the gallery director mentioned that winter scenes are generally a harder-sell. I guess most people must favor warm and sunny settings, but my preference, if given a choice, is always a snow-covered landscape. The art cards I’ve saved and pinned to my studio wall through the years attest to that fact.

My snow gallery

I’m particularly fond of Japanese prints that depict snow scenes. So, with winter on the brain earlier this month, it was a happy discovery while poking through the Harvard Museums’ website on a completely different mission, to come across “The Armchair Traveler’s Guide to Mt. Fuji”. Just one in a series of video Art Talks, this guided tour of 3 paintings depicting Mt. Fuji centers its discussion on the mountain’s significance during the Edo period. Fascinating!

Eventually this will be part of a house that will be called “Snow Moon”. The moon is resist-stitched (kawari mokume shibori) just above the snowy horizon. (The blue dividing line is water-soluble ink that will disappear after I finish the embroidery that is yet to come. If you look closely, you can see the ink also outlines the roofline of the house.) This close-up doesn’t really show it, but the dye gets progressively deeper in color as it moves away from the moon (see previous picture). I dip-dyed the piece, moving farther from the moon area with each dip, in order to suggest its glow in the sky.

And, because nothing ever seems to happen in isolation, around that same time Carol Gillott of Paris Breakfasts wrote about an exhibit she’d seen last summer at Musée Guinet: Mont Fuji – Land of Snow. Her short post centers on snowy Japanese prints and the Prussian blue pigment which became integral to them after it was introduced to Japan by Commodore Perry in the eighteenth century. As always, she includes the added enticement of photos of Paris.

Getting ready to embroider, I have drawn trees for each section of the house, and chosen the thread colors that I’ll use for them and their shadows.

But if you’re looking for something a bit closer to home to satisfy (or convince you of) a love of art and snow, you’re in luck. Head up to the Highland Center for the Arts in Greensboro to enjoy their Open Air Gallery: Ski and Snowshoe Trail, which includes a wonderful variety of sculptures by Vermont artists on a 1.8 mile trail that begins at HCA and loops through the neighboring Wilson Farm.

Flags along the trail are a bright spot of color on an overcast Vermont day.

❖

Instagram of the Week

I guess you could say we’re all homebodies to some degree these days. Erika Stearly’s lush paintings celebrate the inside, making me appreciate my love of interiors even more than usual. I especially enjoy that she often shows a painting in 4 to 5 images along the way to completion.

Gesa Marie's Home in Munster No. 1010 by Erika Stearly

Long Winter’s Nap

“…and mama in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled down for a long winter’s nap…”

Merry Christmas!

White on White

It seems that winter has arrived at the party early this year and decided to stay.

We got well over a foot of new snow on our hill this week, bringing with it the delightful perk that the light in my studio has been perfect. This is the kind of illumination that brightly shows colors in their truest form, but I am especially appreciating it while attacking the first stage of laying in the image for a new piece with white thread. It’s ideal for giving my stitches plenty of definition against their white silk ground.

Is it any wonder that being surrounded with all this snow has set me to thinking about great works of white art? Unsurprisingly, Malevich’s 1918 painting “White on White” was the first to come to mind. Here are a few others.

Louise Nevelson made numerous white pieces. Great images on Alabama Chanin’s Journal, including the uncredited textile piece at the end of the post.
Jasper John’s 1955 White Flag
Local artist Mark Goodwin
Photographer Scott Peterman’s ice houses

Because of where we live, it’s inescapable that I will write from time to time about the snow and the impact it has on my work. I wrote in a past post that “I’ve always loved winter, so a snow-covered landscape is a welcome seasonal perk…just because. But from an artistic and working viewpoint, there is a lesson in the snow: the importance of finding a balance between maintaining a certain boldness (via composition, pattern, and texture) while remembering to get my point across as simply as possible.”

That’s something to keep in mind as I tackle this next piece.

Less is More

Happily, the snow that has fallen this week has blanketed our woods again.

Getting out to walk on our trails with Quinn has provided a welcome reprieve from the relative visual cacophony of pattern and color I’ve been immersed in while working on this latest cup and saucer piece. I’ve long been an avid fan of the traditionally quiet Japanese aesthetic with its subtle contrasts and expanses of open space, which probably explains why a snowy landscape represents a such a welcome counter-balance, not just to working with pattern for hours at a time, but also, theoretically, to the hectic realities of life as we all know it.

A couple of years ago I wrote a post about February’s inherently restrained character and was gratified to hear from quite a few of my Vermont friends that they too welcome this season as a time for regrouping, of calm reflection, and as a period all the richer for its subdued identity. If you live with winter for a large chunk of each year, there’s an element of self-preservation in figuring out what gifts you can glean from it.

But in thinking more about the appeal of winter’s sparseness, I did a bit of research on the idea of unadorned beauty. I came across a fascinating lecture by haiku poet Madoka Mayuzumi entitled “Japan’s Culture of Silence”. It goes a long way toward explaining, especially in relation to haiku, the significance of an “aesthetic of reduction”. Haiku invites the reader into the poet’s world, relying as much on the blank spaces incurred through its brevity, as it does on the words which comprise each poem. Mayuzumi explains: “We tend to find the greatest beauty on (sic) what is left unsaid, in the rich possibilities of blank space”.

It’s a principle that can be applied to any of the arts.

Looking out my living room window, layers of fog not only mute any sense of depth, but also lend an openness to the landscape in much the same way as snow.

I’ve always loved winter, so a snow-covered landscape is a welcome seasonal perk…just because. But from an artistic and working viewpoint, there is a lesson in the snow: the importance of finding a balance between maintaining a certain boldness (via composition, pattern, and texture) while remembering to get my point across as simply as possible.

❖

If this subject interests you, you might enjoy this 2 minute video on the concept of “ma”, which discusses how this aesthetic of reduction is integrated within Japanese culture.

On a Different Note…

If you will be any where near Montpelier on Thursday, February 9, I would encourage you to attend mixed-media art knitter Eve Jacobs-Carnahan’s presentation Art as Action: Knitters Speaking Out. Inspired by the article What It Means To Be An Artist In The Time Of Trump, Eve will discuss and show examples of projects undertaken by art knitters to raise awareness about social and environmental issues.

Art as Action: Knitters Speaking Out
A presentation by Eve Jacobs-Carnahan
Thursday February 9, 2017 6:30 – 8 pm,
Center for Arts and Learning, 2nd floor
46 Barre St. Montpelier, VT 05602

February’s Self-Restraint

Last week I began the first stages of a couple of smaller pieces, looking forward to the learning curve that seems to come more rapidly when working in series and the pieces aren’t (hopefully) as time consuming to complete.

Winter Palette

I have been thinking about ice and snow – big surprise! – and the gentle depth of tones to be found in each. I love the pared down beauty at this time of year and watching for the subtle changes of color that take place in the landscape.

The winds were fierce on our hill earlier this week, leaving behind sculpted piles of snow that remind me of Isamu Noguchi’s work. The rounded forms seem proudly self-possessed, nestled comfortably within their environment. They have carved edges that are clearly defined but smooth enough to convey very subtle value changes. The effect is lovely.

So — how do I transcribe this idea surrounding winter’s visual restraint without being literal? These studies will not be landscapes, but I hope that they will tell part of that greater story. My thoughts revolve around the dissection of the landscape into basic elements; a process of subtraction that distills an image into its essence, with the idea of evoking memory and mood rather than portraying an actual place.

I recently came across this quote by painter Gerhard Richter which seems to cut to the core of the way I think about existing within my surroundings and the search for a way to express the emotional connection that results.

“Our connectedness to nature and our wish to commemorate life and our place in the universe compels us to describe our physical surroundings and, in doing so, ourselves. Landscape’s compositional and spiritual cues also contain the vital seeds of abstraction and beyond.”

Here’s to the hope that these seeds can be planted and will take root despite our frigid temps.

…

And to continue with the idea of subtlety and understatement: let me share with you the beautiful photographs of Scott Peterman – a master of the restrained palette. Don’t miss this slideshow of his photographs of ice houses!