Monthly Archives: June 2016

Art, Fire, Music and Magic

I think it’s universal to want to believe in magic. Who among us hasn’t wished at one time or another to be able to return to the sense of enchantment that we remember from childhood? Our imaginations and the stories we had been told, or found within the pages of books, laid the groundwork for fanciful adventures played out in the woods, on the ledges of an island, or even in a tent made of bedspreads.

This past weekend I found the closest thing to a portal back to that world. Fortunately, there are artists, musicians and people of vision who have kept that place alive and have made it possible for us to visit as well. The gateway opens once a year. Unleash your imagination for a few minutes and let me bring you along.

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Imagine it is the perfect summer evening, the sun has set and there is a gentle breeze. The mosquitoes must be sleeping as they are no where to be seen or heard, there is only the twinkling of fireflies and the soft sound of crickets to remind us of the insect world. We are standing in the middle of an open field. A huge bonfire crackles and smokes in front of us, sending a spray of sparks upward. Eyes rise to follow the flickering dance and then drop down again once the sparks dissolve into the night. From where we stand a stripe made of dozens of brightly lit glass votives bisects the field, beckoning us to follow it from the bonfire toward the edge of the woods. Who could resist?

Stepping into the trees we are swallowed in their darkness, but the votives reassuringly continue in a steady stream, cheerily urging us onward. The walkway undulates underfoot but is mostly clear of roots and is surprisingly easy to navigate in such limited light as we move deeper into the forest. Any worry about our footing is replaced by curiosity when we suddenly become aware of the sound of acoustic music in the distance. Each twist in the path brings us closer until finally we reach a candlelit clearing where a gypsy-like couple are playing soft strains of Italian folk music on guitar and accordion under a ceiling of stars.

After listening to their song we press on, following the seemingly endless votives. Soon we find ourselves stepping onto a narrow bridge, only wide enough to allow a single-file crossing. The bullfrogs greet us with their throaty plunks as floating paper lanterns, shaped like little boxes and edged in silver, gently illuminate their watery grass homes. Reluctantly, we keep walking. Leaving this beautiful setting and the bullfrogs to their evening song, the path of votives spurs us on as we continue back into the trees. Eventually the path emerges into a walled area where dozens of tiny, flickering candles are tucked into the crevices of piles of stones. There are several small campfires at the corners of this open chamber, lending a sense of significance and arrival. The stacked blocks of rock emit an uncharacteristic coolness for such a warm evening; the residual temperature they hold is evidence of harsher winter days, preserved by dense crowding and the shade that envelopes the piles during the day.

The votives persist. Guiding us up a wooded slope, they seem to merge with the stars in a way that could only be termed as magical. In time, we reach a gateway of sorts, two carved columns whose cracked and crumbled appearance suggests they are the last remains of an ancient ruin. More significantly, they signal our approach to what might be seen as an enchanted hallway. Gentle candle and torch light enhances the sense of mystery and reverence in this place; a corridor of granite carved with depictions of the wildlife that inhabit these woods, and reliefs reminiscent of prehistoric symbols. A dinosaur, and even a troll whose face is squeezing through the stone in an effort to free himself (or perhaps to catch a glimpse of us?) add a sense of humor to the spell that has overtaken us. The artwork is masterful, a physical reminder of the continuing heritage of stone-carving artistry that still exists in this part of the world. And all the while a guitar duo plays softly, accompanying and elucidating the wonder of this place and this evening.

After fully absorbing the spectacle, we descend, the votives steadfastly and safely escorting us past deep and dark water. You can smell its damp presence, yet in the low light there is no sound or sight to confirm its existence. In the distance we hear the low moans of what could be a whale, yet which we soon discover is in fact a fantastical instrument. Comprised of metal pipes of all widths and lengths, it emits mournful and eerie tones when played with a belching torch of fire that is held at intervals beneath the array of metal tubes. Beyond that, the path continues downward on its final leg. We pass one more guitarist, this time completely enrobed in darkness, sharing only the lilting sound of his instrument as we prepare to end our journey. In a suitable farewell from these mystical woods, the ever-present votives usher us out along a narrow lane that gently turns past young trees studded with colorful paper lanterns hanging from their branches. And then, as seamlessly as it began, the adventure ends as we reemerge back into the quiet open field that rests under a canopy of stars.

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My retelling of our evening can’t begin to do justice to the magical experience that is “Rockfire“, a 2-mile walk / convergence of art, fire and music in Millstone Hill’s abandoned quarries above Barre, VT. Follow the above link to learn more and to see videos & photos of the event from previous years.

Words of Wisdom in 15 Digestible Bites

One of the few attributes of long travel days, despite the many hours spent in airports and on planes, is that there’s not much to do but read (and sketch, of course). How many days in a given year does one have the luxury of being able to sit with a book for hours on end?

A couple of weeks ago, while heading back and forth to and from California — after I’d had enough of my book, and the people I was drawing in the waiting area had all begun to look the same — I caught up on several months of articles I had saved to Pocket. Do you know about Pocket? If not, you should. It’s an app that offers a way to save all the items you come across on the web but don’t have time to read right away, making it possible to access them when you do have time — across all your devices…and it’s free!

Waiting 2 ©2016 Elizabeth Fram Most waiting travelers, regardless of age, are plugged into their devices. The advantage is they are oblivious to a lonely sketcher. The downside is there is little variation in body posture as most have nearly the same bend of the neck and hand placement while looking at their phones or tablets.

Aside from the ongoing slew of links that I stockpile, digest, and then discard, I have a few items saved in my Pocket that I’ll keep permanently. I hold onto them to reread from time to time because they’re just that good.

Entrepreneur and writer James Altucher’s excellent post entitled What I Learned About Life After Interviewing 80 Highly Successful People is one such piece. I am happy to return to it from time to time, not just as a means of giving me a bit of a boost when needed, but also to help me remember to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground. It contains 15 short maxims; points that seem appropriate no matter where we stand as we strive to keep moving forward with our goals. It’s too lengthly for me to transcribe here, so please follow the above link. I think it’s well-worth sharing and hope you agree.

Do these ideas resonate with you as well? I keep coming back to “Many moments of small positive, personal interactions build an extraordinary career”… or, one might also say “life”… don’t you think?

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In case you can go: This month members of the Vermont chapter of the Surface Design Association are exhibiting at Frog Hollow, Vermont State Craft Center in Burlington, in a show entitled “Material Matters”. We have an active and motivated group across the state and the show reflects that commitment.

The term “surface design” was coined to identify “manipulations of textiles that go beyond woven constructions”. Legendary textile designer Jack Lenor Larsen explained the term best by expressing his opinion that surface designers are interested in fabric as geography, in providing unlimited options for dimensional and structural enhancements, greater possibilities for opening interior spaces, and more opportunities for experimenting with color, texture, and design.

Frog Hollow has created this catalog of the exhibit, which you can browse through at your leisure. It offers an idea of the breadth of work on view and includes information about the participating artists.

Colors of Sonoma

One of the many perks of travel is experiencing differences in light and color as compared with home. Being in California last week was a welcome opportunity to soak up the warm tones that predominate in that part of the world — and from what folks have said about the cold and rain we left behind in Vermont, it seems like it was a good time to be out of town.

I always include my small travel box of watercolors in my art supply kit, and so was able to enjoy studying and mixing the relatively unfamiliar hues of the desert hills. Vermont’s rich blues and greens during June are markedly different from the drier landscape of Sonoma County, which leans toward ochers and golds punctuated with the deep and dusty greens of trees that thrive on limited water under the hot sun.

We were on-the-go much of the time, so I squeezed in whatever moments I could to sketch. I find it’s easier to jot down a quick drawing on site and then return to it to add color later that evening or early the next morning. The hills surrounding the County are ubiquitous, so color reference is easily accessible, even after leaving the original drawing location.

Now that I’m back home with a slightly expanded palette to work from, I’ve been spending some time fine-tuning my understanding of how to achieve the colors I saw. What I’m discovering is that by paring down to fewer colors, creating mixes from just a handful of basics, greater harmony results in the overall composition. This article by Dan Schultz discusses not just that fact, but also four other reasons why limiting your palette can be beneficial.

Sonoma color mixes; WN = Winsor Newton, DS = Daniel Smith

It’s surely humbling how much I have to learn. Somehow color theory seems a lot easier when working with thread, perhaps because if something isn’t quite right it can easily be undone. There’s no backing up with watercolor. But the challenge, as well as the look of layers of pigment on paper – blooms and all – is seductive and addicting, so I’ll be keeping my nose to the grindstone. I’m confident that the lessons learned will be translatable into my textile work as well.

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For one who is pooch-starved, our visit to Frog’s Leap Winery held a special treat. Abbie, the resident canine, (who brings new meaning to “it’s a dog’s life” in this uplifting video … if you’re a dog lover, don’t miss it!!), came in and flopped down to cool off by my feet long enough for me to squeeze in a quick doggie sketch. Life doesn’t get much better than sitting at a table with family, drinking a great glass of wine with pen & sketchbook in hand, and having a willing dog to draw!

A Worthwhile Plunge

Hard to believe, but this is the 80th uninterrupted week of posts to Eye of the Needle. When I first decided to create a blog I was concerned about a lot of things, most of which probably run through the mind of anyone who considers writing publicly. Would I have enough to say each week? Would anyone be interested enough to read it? How could I skirt an “it’s all about me” approach? …and so forth and so on.

Wine & Onion, stage one ©2016 Elizabeth Fram I mentioned last week that I had been drawing a sprouted onion a lot. It appears again in this experiment with water-soluble ink and watercolor pencils – in a sketchbook that wasn’t meant to take washes. Oh well.

Surprisingly, those issues have fallen in place relatively smoothly as it seems that there is always at least one thing that happens or that I read about in a given week that I think will pique someone else’s interest. And I truly enjoy that this blog has developed into the conversation I initially sought. (Thank you for your comments, both public and private!) But aside from those factors, I’ve discovered several unexpected gifts have materialized by showing up here weekly, benefits I never in a million years would have foreseen.

I didn’t realize how much I would enjoy the writing itself. And in turn, I had no idea I would like the accountability that goes with a weekly deadline. Maybe it’s just that I’m such a creature of routine that I appreciate the solid regularity in knowing that I have to pull together one idea each week. It turns out that the resulting benefit is that this weekly thought-based commitment is healthy for my studio work as well.

I love having the opportunity to learn and to do research in order to flesh out the sparks of whatever each week’s subject may be, with the consequence that I’ve happened across some really interesting artists, writers and concepts I might not otherwise have encountered. In terms of giving back, it’s rewarding to be a participant – to pay forward the benefits I’ve gleaned from reading other blogs. I am passing along nuggets of info I hope might be of interest to you as a nod to the way that I have learned so much from others. Sharing through information and challenges swings open doors, leaving none of us feeling we are too remote, despite working in a solitary fashion. And although it can be supremely frustrating, I’m glad for the technological knowledge that’s been a side benefit. With each new internet/computer glitch that appears, I’m gaining confidence to rise to its challenge — or at a minimum, know that eventually I’ll be able to find a way to dig myself out of the problem.

Most importantly though, I value that this blog has been an opportunity to articulate the structure behind my own work while helping me to understand the ways and means behind the way I respond to others’ art. Because that requires drawing parallels and contrasts in order to better understand issues, it’s an impetus to seek out more of what is happening in the wider world of art.

I can’t say it’s a speedy process; I probably write way too many drafts, but it’s well-worth the time and I do believe I’m getting faster. That said, if there’s any possibility that you’re considering beginning a blog yourself, I would encourage you to go for it. Who knows what discoveries you’ll make.

Here are some links to start you on your way:

Once you’re up and running, be sure to send me the link!

Artists = Gardeners = Artists

This past week my garden has burst with color. After months of living within a subdued landscape that quietly displayed spare beauty in the structure of trees, accented with the muted tones of last year’s dropped foliage, it’s pure joy to become re-immersed in full-on color!

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Most artists I know are gardeners, and vice versa — although I wonder, do gardeners think of themselves as artists? They should; we share a love of color, form, texture and pattern, and of course a willingness to accept the challenge of arranging all those elements within a composition. This past post about Vermont artist David Stearns’ beautiful garden is a case in point.

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The overlap between the two disciplines is deeply ingrained for many of us. I have written in countless artist statements how formal Japanese gardens have been a huge inspiration to me, not just in their physical attributes, but in the way they direct one’s attention and how they make one feel while wandering along their paths. I continue to aspire toward that ability to say more with less in my own work.

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But for now, I am just soaking up the pure lushness of this year’s new growth and am grateful to live where the seasons vary so strongly that as each one arrives we are ready and glad for the change.

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Two treasured books on my shelf, each an inspiration, are ZEN|FLOWERS: contemplation through creativity by Harumi Nishi and The Flower Recipe Book: 100 Magical, Sculptural, Seasonal Arrangements by Alethea Harampolis and Jill Rizzo. They straddle the line between art and flora and offer a new way to think about both, together.

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Happily, this past weekend I heard back from Arthur Schaller, the collage artist I wrote about last week, with permission to post images of his work. Here’s a quick taste that will hopefully entice you to see the work in person if you can get to the Vermont Supreme Court gallery before the end of June.

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And finally, I am honored to have been asked to be in Across Roads Center for the Arts’ “Artist Spotlight” this month. The interview is available to be read here.

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