Category Archives: Art

Out and About

Now that February has arrived, it’s been a lovely change to emerge from January’s hibernation to spend time catching up with friends and getting out and about to see art beyond my studio walls.

Susan, detail ©2026 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and Graphite on paper, 16.5″ x 18″ Drawing alongside like-minded souls is such a pleasure. Last week our model brought her fiddle and played while we drew/painted her. It was the essence of community.

Last week, three of us went to AVA Gallery in Lebanon, NH where we caught a terrific “two-fer”.
First was Eva Sturm-Gross’s exhibition “Beasts of Eden”.

The Watchers, Eva Sturm-Gross, Carved basswood

Representing a fragmented symbolic world, her sculptural and printed pieces refer to Biblical narratives expressed through the animals that dwell near her childhood home in the Upper Valley of New Hampshire and Vermont.

The Thief, Eva Sturm-Gross, Carved basswood, Relief print, Gold leaf and beeswax on paper

She often merges reality with myth.

Behold, Eva Sturm-Gross, Carved basswood, Relief print and beeswax on paper

According to the gallery notes, animal-headed figures are a common motif in medieval Jewish aesthetic culture. Sturm-Gross uses that device to convey a sense of the sacred found within the local landscape.

What Does the Lover Want From Love, Eva Sturm-Gross, Carved basswood, Relief print and beeswax on paper

This quality in her work speaks directly and convincingly to those of us who also find ourselves living in daily pace with the land and the creatures who surround us.

✶

Juni Van Dyke, These Beautiful Hands: A Tribute to Our Elders

Next, I felt a huge sense of connection with Juni Van Dyke’s installation “These Beautiful Hands: A Tribute to Our Elders”. Similar to my Full Bloom series of stitched portraits, her pieces directly challenge this country’s sadly all-too common attitude that value and beauty are diminished with age.

Juni Van Dyke, Plaster cast hands and hand-made paper: “Handholding. You do a lot of that when you raise children. When my daughter was eight and in the hospital with appendicitis, she held my hand and begged me not to leave. ‘When are you coming back?’ she pleaded. Now, somedays here (in the nursing home) I sit by my window and I know exactly how she felt.”

This series of cast-plaster hands, in conjunction with brief anecdotes gleaned in conversation during the casting process, represent, in Van Dyke’s words, a soul and a life well-lived.

Juni Van Dyke, Plaster cast hands and hand-made paper: “Heaven and Hell. I don’t care if there is or there isn’t. I’ve been through hell. Heaven is where I am right now. My doctor says ‘Keep doing whatever you’re doing’. I drink vinegar and pickle juice every day. I’m old and I feel great!”

Accompanying her installation of hands and quotes are a series of small oil paintings that Van Dyke created as a gesture of gratitude to the elderly — made for and about people she has known and loved, and for those who participated in her Beautiful Hands project.

Juni Van Dyke, The Gratitude Series, oil on board

Both exhibits are only open through February 14th, so you’d better hurry if you want to go.

✶

Finally, I have a must-see documentary recommendation.
Porcelain War, which can be streamed on PBS (expiring on March 1), is an incredibly moving portrayal of three artists who have chosen to remain in Ukraine “armed with their art, their cameras, and for the first time in their lives, their guns. A stunning tribute to the resilience of the human spirit, embodying the enduring hope and passion of ordinary people living through extraordinary circumstances.”

Porcelain War Poster

Here’s a link to the trailer.
I can’t use enough superlatives about this stunning piece. It is gorgeously filmed, absolutely heart-rending, yet simultaneously uplifting. Don’t miss it!

Things to Smile About

Cued by the trees, which seem to be changing color by the hour, I’ve been taking time to just soak in and enjoy the sights around me this season. Below are a few of the things that have caught my eye in the past couple of weeks.

Art at the Kent – “Holding”

There are so many wonderful artworks in this show! These shots barely skim the surface of the 22 artists exhibiting, or their work. I will be back again (and again) in an effort to capture more before the exhibit closes on October 12. I hope you can make it at least once.

Usually I am careful to document the labels which fully identify works that I am photographing. I was so excited moving through the exhibit that I forgot myself and, other than the piece above, can only provide the name of each artist for the works below. This show is that good. However, I’ve linked to each artist’s web presence, if available.

Veronica Y Pham

James Patterson

Jon Roberts

Paul Bowen

Kate Gridley

The preserved patina of ancient paint, wallpaper and exposed lath within the Kent Museum building all work in concert with the art on display. Below are a few examples of my pieces in the show. It makes my heart sing to see the thoughtful way they are presented in conversation with their surroundings and others’ work.

Pick Me Up © 2017 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk, 12″H x 16″W The curation of “Holding” is exquisite. For instance, consider the exchange between my stitched cup and Stephen Proctor’s clay vessel outside.

Ulysses’ Wave ©2014 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye, paint and embroidery on silk, 19″H x 38″W This piece, a visual narrative of the gradual, then sudden changes I saw in my mother as she struggled with the beginnings of dementia, reflects both the exuberance and the memento mori quality of the lush floral arrangement sitting to its right.

Québec City

The following on-the-fly shots in Québec weren’t necessarily inspirational and have no particular redeeming quality other than they made me smile. I think we could all use a bit more levity these days, don’t you?

Trois Garçons

The last in a lineup of cannons that are part of the Fortifications of Québec and which highlight this area’s past military function as a defensive battery, the irony of this vase tipped on its side with hands offering flowers and wheat from its opening is delightful. Zoom in to see that the treads of the tires are leaving tracks of roses. Having neglected to find any info near this sculpture, I searched the internet but came up empty regarding the artist. However, I did discover that In 1617, the first French family to settle in the colony — Louis Hébert, his wife Marie Rollet, and their three children established their farm on this site atop Cap Diamant which is today Montmorency Park. They grew cereal crops, vegetables and different medicinal plants.

Cat weaving

Slatted Window

Exciting Macarons

Creature

✷

One more thing that’s making me happy: I’m rereading Stephen King’s On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. Per his suggestion, I edited out any adverbs that had snuck into this post 😊. Ha! I haven’t gotten to the part where he’s horrified by emojis.
Regardless of what your creative practice may be – or if you even have one – you will enjoy this book. Not to worry – it isn’t remotely scary.

Diverse, Thought-provoking & Inspirational

Check out these amazing Vermont artists:

Julia Zanes Cindy Blakeslee Rona Lee Cohen Valerie Hird Susan Jane Walp

The unifying thread between them is that I first encountered their work at the Kent Museum in Calais, VT. Along with apples, glorious foliage and good sleeping temperatures, fall in Vermont means it’s time again for Art at the Kent.

Passages 1 ©2006 Elizabeth Fram, Hand-dyed, hand & machine stitching on silk and cotton, 32″H x 33″W I will have 20 or so pieces in the show this year. In many ways, those selected represent a survey of my work. While they are all connected via the idea of memory, the lure of color and texture manifested through stitched, drawn and painted marks remains constant. The pieces shown here are a teaser. As many of you know, in the early days, art quilts were my main means of expression. It was a medium that allowed for the interruptions and inconsistent work hours that go hand in hand with raising a family.

For me, it’s always been a treat to see the work of friends, as well as artists I have followed from afar, appear on the Kent’s walls and on its surrounding grounds. But just as exciting is knowing that each show will introduce me to artists I was completely unaware of previously. This is the beauty of an exhibit that highlights only Vermont artists and, until this year, has never repeated any of them.

Taking Pause ©2014 Elizabeth Fram, Paint, stitched-resist dye & embroidery on silk, 21″H x 33″W This is one in a series of dog-walk shadow pieces that marked a time of upheaval and transition. Walking the pooch in the early morning hours was one piece of our routine that remained regular during those months.

A quick swing through the exhibit archives is a testament to Vermont’s incredibly rich creative sector. I’ve had to pinch myself over the past months, knowing how privileged I am to soon be among them.

Disparate Pair ©2014 Elizabeth Fram, Verithin pencil on mylar, 10″H x 8″W Also one in a series, these pieces tell a story through the shadows and seemingly distinct personalities of decades-old chairs on a cottage porch.

There will be 22 of us exhibiting this year. I’m intrigued to see how all the work will interact with each other and with the historic building which houses the exhibit. I have every confidence the experience will be as remarkable and unique as it has been every other year, thanks to the vision of curators Allyson Evans, Nel Emlen, and David Schutz.

Letters from Home: Mussel Memory ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye & embroidery on silk, 12″H x 16″W As we were emerging from the pandemic, I wasn’t ready to give up on the house shape after spending months making my 3-D “Covid Houses”. One day I had the epiphany that the shape of an open envelope is the same as that of a house. With that, I began a number of “Letters from Home” pieces, most of them carrying memories of Maine.

In fact, one can’t help but wonder how they manage to pull together a show that hits it out of the park, year after year. As always, this year’s exhibit “Holding – Mementos Kept, Memories Kindled” will most certainly contain viewpoints that are diverse, thought-provoking, inspirational and, not least, a celebration of the act of making itself. What more could one ask?

Fleeting Reflections ©2025 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor & knotless netting on paper, 6″H x 8″W On the heels of my Full Bloom series, I have become interested in knotless netting, incorporating it within paintings. As you can see from each of the pieces above, as new work develops, one element will invariably carry through from one series to the next – be it shadows, stitching, or portraits.

Have I piqued your interest? I hope so. Please come between September 12 and October 12 to see for yourself. I’ll be at the opening on Saturday; see you then?

Holding Poster

And to further entice you, there are numerous accompanying events scheduled throughout the exhibition month, including:

Words Out Loud

Tapestries, Portraits and Gardens – Oh My! (Part 1)

I’m half joking, but Warning! This post is long. Even still, there is so much to cover that I’m going to split it in half and will be back with Part 2 next time. Meanwhile, I’ve tried my best stay heavy on images, light on words. I’ve sprinkled in lots of links so you can explore further.

✷

My head is spinning on the heels of our recent trip to Scotland – there was inspiration everywhere! So many of my favorite things: textiles, portraits, gardens and more! I always come home from being away feeling like my brain got a good airing out. The best souvenir is plenty of fresh things to think and read about, setting the stage for, if not a reset, at least additional perspectives to bring back to the studio.
Here we go…

Tapestries:
The Great Tapestry of Scotland
Dovecot Studios
The Hunt for the Unicorn at Stirling Castle

The Great Tapestry of Scotland is housed in its own museum, about an hour south of Edinburgh in the Scottish Borders textile town of Galashiels. Created by 1000 stitchers, it’s no exaggeration to say it is a 160-panel masterpiece that covers the broad scope of Scottish history, along with everyday stories of the Scottish people.

We went directly to Galashiels to see the Tapestry after our red-eye landed, albeit a bit bleary-eyed. However, no need for an energy boost once in the presence of all the amazing stitch-work. This is Panel #1.

First impressions: each panel is HUGE (about a meter square), most are brilliantly colorful and all are quite ingenious in their depiction of chosen subject. The panels were designed by Andrew Crummy, but the masterfully stitched intricacy, diversity and expertise are all a credit to the individual stitchers.

This detail of Panel 1 (seen in full above) is a mere taste of what is to follow.

Before we left Vermont, knowing how overwhelming it would be to try to take in such a massive display during one brief visit, I purchased Alistair Moffat’s The Great Tapestry of Scotland book which shows and describes each panel in detail. Pouring over and reading the particulars ahead of time gave me a chance to become better acquainted with the history and meaning behind the panels, including improvisations which were allowed stitchers in order to underline their personal connection with the event portrayed on the panel they stitched.

Panel 126 – “Fair Isle” As a knitter, I loved this panel. Fair Isle is known for a traditional style of knitting made popular when the Prince of Wales, later to reign briefly as Edward VIII, took to wearing Fair Isle knitted sleeveless jumpers to play golf in the early 1920s. Very colorful with finely worked horizontal geometric patterns, these designs were trending then, and still are.

Having a bit of a leg up allowed me to concentrate more fully on the stitchwork; the remarkable way in which various details were depicted was captivating.

Detail of Panel 64 – “The First School for Deaf and Dumb Children” Just look at the way the curls of this teacher’s wig, as well as his shirt sleeves and waistcoat, are realized!

Detail of Panel 74 – “James Hutton’s Theory of the Earth” That hair!

Detail of Panel 87 – “The Growth of Glasgow” So many details in this small section of panel. If you too are curious about the fish with the ring in its mouth, read on.

Beyond the artistry, the finished tapestry is a remarkable community accomplishment that includes the work of 1000 participants from the whole of Scotland. I could have written several posts on the Tapestry alone, but there’s more to see.

✷

Moving on…

Dovecot Studios in Edinburgh is a working tapestry studio and gallery. When I asked how their weavers were selected, I think the woman thought I was looking for a job. Ha! She told me that it had been 10 years since they last hired someone – only master weavers. The Studios support an apprenticeship program and I believe their weavers tend to come directly from that pool.

Looking down on a tapestry in progress from the viewing balcony, which also doubles as a gallery space. The monumental weavings on the far wall were created by Ptolemy Mann. The studio was silent, the weavers were in their own worlds, with headphones on.

As if seeing the working weavers wasn’t enough, we were also able to take in the current exhibition “The Scottish Colourists: Radical Perspectives” in the Dovecot Studios expansive lower gallery space. If you read Art & Object, perhaps you caught the accompanying review? My education never even touched upon Scottish art history, so this was a treat.

Jessica Dismorr, Landscape with Figures, 1911-12, Oil on Panel. So many wonderful works – this was the one I would have brought home, if allowed.

✷

The Hunt for the Unicorn is a set of 7 tapestries in the Queen’s Inner Hall of Stirling Castle. They are a recreation and reinterpretation of tapestries that appear in castle inventories from the 16th century. The recreation was a monumental 14-year endeavor which enlisted a team of 18 weavers from across the world.

This photo taken from the web shows the grandeur of the recreated tapestries. The colors and details are spectacular, giving one an idea of how awe-inspiring the originals would have been, especially to 16th century visitors. For more photos, follow this link.

Stirling Castle was the childhood home of Mary Queen of Scots and, with extensive research, the palace interiors have been recreated as they may have looked in the 1540s during the reign of Mary’s father, James V.

One can visit the on-site tapestry workshop where the modern version of The Hunt for the Unicorn was made. One can read extensive information there about the details of the tapestries’ creation, and see samples that were created in preparation. If you’re interested in going further into the weeds of this extensive project, read this.

And now…
Portraits:
The Scottish National Portrait Gallery
Stirling Heads at Stirling Castle

I am a huge fan of Sky Arts Portrait Artist of the Year, which can be streamed on Amazon. If you’ve watched it, then you will be aware that the grand prize is to paint a portrait of a figure of national importance for one of several UK Portrait Museums. After viewing it on the show, I was dying to see the Scottish National Portrait Gallery’s Great Hall. It is even more breath-taking in the flesh.

The Great Hall of the Scottish National Portrait Gallery in Edinburgh

Even the ceiling is magnificent!

Currently on view within the Gallery is “The Modern Portrait”. Considering the development of portraiture since the early 20th century, this exhibit shows evolving portraiture styles over the past 125 years. It was also a fascinating opportunity to learn about the paintings’ subjects – figures who have contributed significantly to Scottish life in numerous spheres.

The Unknown Man, detail, 2019, Ken Currie, 6.5’x9 feet, Oil on Canvas. This powerful and massive portrait (hence the detail) is of Dame Sue Black, forensic anthropologist.

Alexander Douglas-Home by Avigdor Arikha

Alexander Frederick Douglas-Home, 1988, Avigdor Arikha, Oil on canvas. What drew me to this one was the composition. As I’ve noted before, I am a fan images that hug the edge.

Tom Leonard, About 2004, Alex Main, Bronze I took this photo so I could paint it in my sketchbook later – I find the sense of form quite moving and a great opportunity for practice.

✷

The Stirling Heads, made of Polish oak, were a ceiling adornment in James V’s Inner Hall meant to display his status as monarch through reference to his royal bloodline, powerful connections and fashionable court. After having been dispersed in the late 18th century, some of the originals are reunited in a darkened gallery in the castle, while modern reproductions recreate their splendor, once again decorating the ceiling of the King’s Inner Hall.

The workmanship of the originals is spectacular.

Painted reproductions as they would have appeared originally are also a testament to the skills of modern artisans..

OK, time to stretch your legs – that is more than enough for now! Perhaps (I hope) you’ll have seen something that will send you down your own rabbit hole of discovery. I know there is a lot of reading I’m looking forward to.

Next time, Gardens and a touch of “oh my!” Till then.

The Name Game

An unsung step in the making of every work of art is the choosing of a title. I have a friend who often decides what she’ll call a piece long before the work is complete, but I believe she is the exception. For me — and I gather a lot of people — titling is a frustrating end-of-work challenge. I think a title ought to be more than a mere afterthought once a piece is finished. Beyond just a label, it can also be a bridge – another opportunity to connect with a viewer.

When I photograph works in an exhibit, I almost always follow each shot with a picture of its descriptive label. Aside from wanting to be reminded of the materials and techniques, I’m interested in what else the artist may want to convey to me through the name they chose.

Among the many approaches are:

Purely descriptive

Green House and Table, Jay Stern, 2023, Oil on canvas

Atmospheric

Avenue de l’Opéra: Morning Sunshine, Camille Pissaro, 1898, Oil on Canvas

An identifier of place

Meeting Street, Ivan Summers, ca.1925, Oil on canvas

Or person

Café Fortune Teller, Mary Hoover Aiken, 1933, Oil on canvas

A Marker of Time

Last Sickness, Alice Neil, 1953, Oil on canvas

Or a literary reference

Diana of the Sea, Marguerite Thompson Zurich, 1940, Oil on canvas

And some are completely enigmatic

The Bride Stripped Bare by her Bachelors, Even (The Large Glass), Marcel Duchamp, 1915-23, Oil paint, varnish, lead foil, lead wire, dust, two glass panels. Curiosity got the better of me. For a better understanding behind Duchamp’s title, read this article.

And then there is the total (IMHO) cop-out: “Untitled”.

I bounce around in my approach, but often go the esoteric route.
While I don’t believe that a title creates a “make or break” situation, or that a sense of connection necessarily hinges on a title, I do think it adds another layer of depth to a work — another chance to create a sense of understanding.

The Secrets She Keeps, after Hans Memling ©2020 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk, 24″ x 18″ This piece, which I’m happy to say has found a new home, is of Barbara van Vlaendenbergh. She was the wife of Willem Moreel, a prominent and wealthy landowner in 15th century Bruges. While there is plenty of information to be found about him, sadly all I could find about her was that she had given birth to 18 children. I felt compelled to give credence to the depth of her story which remains untold in history. My title was a nod to that omission: imagine the wisdom she would have been able to relate, if only she could!

But I admit, it’s something of a game. I look at my titles as an opportunity to encode the work with a reference that, while often not immediately obvious, has the potential to reward anyone who takes the time to pay attention.

✷

If you’re in the central Vermont area, treat yourself to the three exhibits currently on view at Burlington City Arts: Bunny Harvey: World Within Worlds, Stéphanie Morissette: Speculative Future and Susan Smirka: in the Lorraine B. Good room.

The Dance Between Positive and Negative

Up until the last couple of days, winter has been tenaciously hanging on. We’re all itching to move on but, knowing how mercurial Vermont’s transition to spring can be, the studio is the one place where I can effectively make change happen.
With that in mind, here’s a peek at something new…

I have been thinking quite a bit about the sewn side of my paintings and how I might leverage passages of stitching to explore pattern and texture more extensively.

Orientation is key; rotating an image 90° or 180° shakes off automatic interpretations, allowing me to lean into abstraction. I’m still thinking about how to tackle the stitching on this one.

I’ve been cropping sections of older ink sketches, reinterpreting them by creating new compositions in watercolor that flirt with abstraction. By situating the painted elements so that they hug the edges of the frame, I’m simultaneously leaving wide swaths of space that are open for stitching.

This image is more easily identifiable, but again, rotation helps me to home in on an interaction of shapes vs a specific object.

On the one hand this creates tension between the painted and unpainted areas, while on the other hand it offers me an empty field that is ready-made to push the potential of stitching as it relates to the image as a whole.

©Elizabeth Fram I raced on the stitching so I could include this piece in today’s post, giving you a taste of what I’m working toward. But you never know how things will evolve until you’re already up to your elbows. What I didn’t expect was that leaving a large area completely free of any sort of imagery/stitching would be just right. That, and cropping the image to a square makes this piece feel complete. If one thing’s for certain, it’s that the work is just as much in the driver’s seat as I am.

Considered from another angle, I’m giving myself an opportunity to juggle between positive and negative space. Remember the old optical illusion: is it a vase or 2 profiles? That’s what I’m thinking about while at the same time limiting my palette so I can concentrate more fully on finding a balance between the two.

✷

Meanwhile, as I wait out our on-again / off-again snowy days I’ve been experiencing a bit of a bonanza in terms of art-related film. There’s nothing quite like art for reminding us that, despite world affairs, creativity ties us together across cultural and geographic lines.

If you aren’t already familiar with The Red Dress project, this short film will bring you up to speed. Kirstie Macleod, originator of the project, travels to Mexico to connect with two of the many embroidery artists who contributed to the finished dress.

✷

Led Zeppelin drums up plenty of teenage memories for me, but I never fully understood or appreciated their sheer genius until seeing Becoming Led Zeppelin in the theater last week. OMG.

✷

Finally, I happened upon this last film by pure chance. You can stream it either on Kanopy or Amazon Prime. If you have any interest at all in Japanese Ukiyo-e prints, artistic collaboration, the melding of an ancient art with pop culture, or even the fine craftsmanship of Japanese tools — you will also love The Art of the Game: Ukiyo-e Heroes.

✷

Come take a look…

Studio Place Arts, a jewel of community and creative connection, just opened its latest group show this week. Silver Lining celebrates 25 years of SPA with a show based on the color Silver. The show runs from March 12th – April 19th.
I have two stitched portraits in the show.

Maine-ly Art

I’ve lived in eight states as an adult which, aside from the physical slog of moving house so many times, has honestly been one of the bigger privileges of my life.
Experiencing both the good, and even the less good, of a variety of communities across the country has been an awesome opportunity to stretch beyond the comfort of my Maine upbringing. All the same, being a Maine native remains a proud part of my core identity, and I’m grateful for any chance to return.

Arriving on the coast is a visceral homecoming that taps all the senses: the shifting colors of the ocean, the familiar smell of salt in the air, hearing the cries of seagulls while bracing against a brisk wind off the water, and always, always enjoying the taste of native treats from land and sea. Have you ever tried a Needham?

We were in Portland last week, experiencing all of the above, and of course lots of art as well. Visits to the Portland Museum of Art and Cove Street Arts were a mid-winter chance to refill my cultural cup to the brim. What follows are a few of the beauties that caught my eye and that I thought you might enjoy as well.

The exhibit “As We Are” at the PMA showcases 14 emerging artists, each with strong Maine ties.

Rachel Gloria Adams, Every Morning, 2024, Acrylic, corduroy, linen, cotton and wool It was delightful to see Adams’ large scale quilts upon entering this exhibit – on purple walls, no less! The vibrant variety of colored walls throughout the museum showed off the work in each gallery beautifully, adding immeasurably to my experience .

Jenny Ibsen, Top Carrot, 2024, Terracotta, underglaze and luster This is one of a series of trophies that “explores ideas of sustenance and care, labor, and play”. As a gardener (who happened to experience a top notch carrot season last year) I love Ibsen’s sense of whimsy.

Jay Stern, Past, Present, Future, 2024, Oil on Canvas I was swept away by Stern’s paintings – both in their execution and by his nod to the quotidian. In his statement, he compared them to portraiture in that they show clear evidence of human presence and experience.

Jay Stern, Past, Present, Future, detail Purely from a rendering standpoint, I found myself happily getting lost in Stern’s patchwork of color and paint.

Tessa Greene O’Brien, Posted, Cape Elizabeth, 2024, Oil, bleach, wax resist on dyed canvas I have seen plenty of O’Brien’s work on Instagram, but rarely in person. This time I had the “aha” moment of realizing her work’s close relation to batik. Her use/reference to textile techniques creates a wonderful fusion that straddles genres.

James Parker Foley, Divers Approaching Infinite Density, 2023, Oil on linen The striking color and bold imagery of this piece commands the gallery in which it is hung.

And from elsewhere in the PMA:

Newell Convers Wyeth, Georges Islands, Penobscot Bay, Maine, 1928-29, Oil on canvas Myriad artists have captured Maine in as many ways. While this was painted on Penobscot Bay, and I grew up on Casco Bay, this work portrays the essence of what I think of as “Maine”.

Gabriel Frey, Nohonul Posonutiyil Kcicihtomuwakon (Three Baskets of Wisdom) 2023, Black Ash There is visual poetry between this beautiful piece and its setting: white oak and granite flooring against the charcoal gray wall. So lovely.

Reggie Burrows Hodges, Bathers and the Cleansed, Pearl, 2021, Acrylic and pastel on canvas After first becoming acquainted with Hodges work at the Center for Maine Contemporary Art in 2022, I was happy to meet up with him again via this stunning piece.

Chantal Joffe, Jessica, 2012, Oil on linen. While there were several John Singer Sargents to enjoy on a lower floor, it was this monumental portrait (almost 8 x 6 feet) that spoke most strongly to me.

✷

Cove Street Arts, on the opposite side of Portland’s peninsula, is a beautiful warehouse-esque building that incorporates 4 separate gallery spaces within a greater whole, accommodating art of every scale and genre.

One view within Cove Street Arts

Michael Stasiuk, Lady With Pearls and a Red Purse Walking Her Dog, 2024, Baking pan, lemon reamer, bowling pins, old ironing board, assorted fragments. Humor and inventiveness best describe Stasiuk’s work that is oh-so-relatable and human.

Jeffrey Stevensen, Slip Between Custom House Wharf and Portland Pier, August 1982, Archival inkjet print on cotton paper. Such a beautiful moment of calm on the working waterfront.

Kathi Smith, Gull Rock, Monhegan (top), Gull Rock II, Monhegan (bottom), Oil on panel. While Stevensen’s photograph above uses black and white to best advantage, the colors of these two paintings make them sing.

Fred Lynch, Stepping Out, Watercolor on paper. I find work that skews to the abstract, while maintaining its figurative underpinnings, intriguing on numerous levels. The colors of this piece are unexpected and joyfully satisfying.

Kelly McConnell, In Out, 2022, Oil on canvas I keep coming back to this painting and wondering what it is about it that keeps grabbing my attention. The layers? the colors? the sense of space? Perhaps it’s that I somehow find it calming despite its chaos.

To have been able to see such a diverse selection of work while visiting only two venues is rather remarkable.
When I was growing up, my mother used to say in regard to Portland’s Maine Medical Center that we were beyond fortunate to have access to such great care and expertise in a relatively small and removed city. Portland has grown by leaps and bounds since then and is no longer so removed. And yet, while Maine has always attracted artists, I think Mom’s characterization could now be applied to the city’s art scene as well – it’s definitely hitting above its weight.

Comfort in Discomfort

I don’t know about you, but I feel a lot more at ease delving into new projects once my slate has been cleaned of older ones. December and January are usually so consumed with juggling year-end evaluations and formulating plans for the months ahead, never mind all the holiday hoo-ha, that it takes a lot effort to keep my eye on the ball and to finish up whatever was already in the works.

If Only ©2024 Elizabeth Fram and It Was a Dream ©2025, side by side. Reeling from November’s election, these two pieces were my way to address the concept of dreams that ultimately don’t pan out, and the hope that bolsters us in the face of such setbacks. Light vs dark, day vs night — reality is a full circle that necessarily encompasses both. BTW, I’m currently reading Judi Dench’s Shakespeare The Man Who Pays the Rent. So with my head in that space, I had to look to see what the Bard had to say on this subject. He never fails us: “The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together” (All’s Well That Ends Well).

In early November I began a couple of “companion” pieces. I shared the first, If Only, in my post Something to Lean On. Today I’m showing its counterpart, It Was A Dream. The two were conceived together but are meant to work either in tandem or independently – viewer’s choice.

Now that they’re both finished, I can turn my attention to whatever may be next. I’ve decided I want to carve out time in 2025 to push some of my trusty processes and techniques in ways that will hopefully open the door to different outcomes. But that said, it’s a lot easier to come up with nebulous goals than it is to succinctly outline the specific steps to getting there, so I have some serious experimenting in front of me.

And while there’s no way to know at this point what the results might look like, I guess that’s exactly the point. If I knew where I was going I doubt there would be much growth, and I feel like I’m ready for a stretch. Meanwhile, I’m keeping in mind what my favorite fitness coach says: “find comfort in discomfort”.

First Things First

Happy Thanksgiving!

But first things first…
I can barely believe that this post marks 10 years and 393 uninterrupted entries here at Eye of the Needle! I went back through my archives to reread what I had written in my very first post on November 29, 2014 and I’m happy to say that this project has been, and continues to be, exactly what I had hoped for and outlined all those years ago.

In the spirit of today’s holiday, thank you — to the many of you who have been here since Day 1, returning faithfully ever since, and just as sincerely to those of you who have joined me along the way.

With that in mind, I have an announcement:
To celebrate this anniversary, I am going to take the month of December off.
I’m looking forward to a break, as well as a chance to re-evaluate how I want to proceed going forward. There may or may not be some tweaks — we’ll see. However, this project comes down to two things:

One of the hidden truths of writing regularly about my practice is that it has helped me to better understand my artwork immeasurably, so I do not expect to stop, and
Judging from the comments you have shared with me, both here and privately, writing about my discoveries and explorations has opened the door for you to in turn fill me in on the things you have found or are doing. That sense of connection and community is exactly what I was seeking when I began and has made this endeavor so much richer.
So again, thank you.

One last thought: In episode #503 of her “Happier” podcast, Gretchen Rubin addresses an unexpected way to spark creativity which, once she mentioned it, rang very true to me. Creating a demand that has to be met, (e.g. the deadline of publishing a regular post online) fosters creativity. Maintaining this self-imposed commitment has taught me that, while admittedly some weeks may be harder than others, if one sets to work, the ideas never fail to come.

Now on to today’s post...

We celebrated the holiday early this year, in Chicago with our daughter. As is often the case, our trip included a visit to the Art Institute. This time we caught 2 exciting exhibits and had the chance to see a universal icon. Here is a quick recap.

First, the spectacular baskets of Passamaquoddy maker Jeremy Frey, were on display in the show “Woven”. His work is almost beyond belief in its complexity and innovation. We missed this exhibit at the Portland Museum of Art when we were in Maine last summer, so I’m grateful to have had a second chance to catch it.

Every step of every process in his baskets is accomplished by Frey. He thoughtfully selects and fells the trees (mostly ash), then pounds the logs with the back of an ax to separate the growth rings, splitting them into thinner sheets that he then cuts into narrow strips. He uses dyes to incorporate vibrant colors and he further embellishes basket covers by embroidering natural imagery with porcupine quills. His mastery and imagination are breathtaking.

This short video follows Frey throughout much of his process.

✷

Self-Portrait, Looking Left with Hand on Chin, Paula Modersohn-Becker, 1906, Oil tempera on paper mounted on cardboard

I hadn’t heard of Paula Modersohn-Becker before checking the Art Institute’s website to see what would be on display during our visit. Seeing her work in “I am Me”, I was moved by the sensitivity of her painted and, especially, her drawn portraits – mainly of herself or of other women. Considering she was only 31 when she died of a postpartum embolism, one can’t help but be awestruck by the intensity of her work, despite her relative youth. What a loss for the art world.

Farmer’s Wife, Seated, Paula Modersohn-Becker, 1899, Charcoal on paper

✷

Finally, Hokusai’s iconic The Great Wave is back on display for a limited period (through January 6). It was a thrill to see an original print in the flesh for the first time. Due to the gallery’s subdued, protective lighting, I didn’t even bother to take a picture, choosing instead to just stand and savor.

Under the Wave off Kanazawa, also known as The Great Wave, from the series “Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji”, Katsushika Hokusai, 1826-1836, Color woodblock print, 10 x 14-3/4 inches, image from Art Institute of Chicago website

For some fun facts, you might enjoy reading 10+ Things to Know About The Great Wave. Particularly fascinating: the impact of the work would have been entirely different for Japanese viewers who read from right to left, so likely would have viewed the print that way, as opposed to Western eyes which would have experienced the wave from left to right. Take a look with that in mind and judge for yourself.

Where else but a museum can you pack so much into a couple of hours?
That’s all for now.
Enjoy your Thanksgiving and holidays to follow; I’ll see you in January!

Small, Thoughtful Steps

Remember the painted detail of the birds that I shared in my last post?
Here is the full painting, now complete.

I can’t necessarily explain this piece in the sense of telling a particular story, but I will say it’s a convergence of and meditation on a number of things: the passage of time, a feeling of grounding that is rooted in one’s sense of place, the idea of freedom in unrealized possibilities, and an overarching love for the changes that come with Autumn as the landscape readies for the dormancy of Winter. Hmmm – I guess even if it isn’t a story, that’s a lot to pack into 9″ x 12″.

Washi tape and masking fluid give me the ability to preserve various sections while working on others. Pencil lines rough in the suggestion of a background pattern in the upper right (which becomes more prominent as the piece evolves). If you look closely you can see that this pattern riffs off both the pointed house shape, which encloses the portrait, and the swooping lines of the hair.

While I always work on an entire painting all at once, I do toggle back and forth between elements because, as I move through each stage, every decision affects everything that comes after. An action taken in one area dictates the next step for another section.

Early layers of paint set up a backdrop

In other words, I depend upon a series of mindful steps that build upon each other. These images of the portrait within the painting give an idea of that progression.

Layers of Naples Yellow and Yellow Ochre connect the fore, mid, and background by adding dimension to the grasses, warming the tones of the face and carrying the sunset over from the left of the painting in the background. Washes and strokes of green link the hair, the eyes, the grasses and the field while offsetting the blue and yellow complementary undertones that had begun to dominate.

When sitting down to a freshly stretched sheet of paper, I may have a core idea of where I’m headed but I can always count on the fact that there will be plenty of changes and adjustments along the way, most of which relate to the nuts and bolts of process itself.

While initially I had planned to leave it out, adding a mouth soon felt necessary. The masking fluid that preserved the area for the sumac has been lifted in this picture. It’s always a relief to remove the washi tape or masking fluid so I can see the piece without the distraction of their strong colors.

In a way, every new piece is a wonderful sort of puzzle. Before the brush even touches paper, it’s necessary to think ahead to consider what might need to be done first (such as which elements to mask) and in what order each consecutive layer needs to be laid down. For the most part, the masking is really the only part of the process that rarely changes.

Masking the sumac branches and flowers in the foreground was the very first step after lightly penciling in the composition. Considering that masking fluid dries to a yellow-ish color, I had to consciously work to avoid letting it influence my surrounding color choices.

The stitched roof was a late decision. Not only does it further accentuate the curving pattern in the background but, more importantly, the added 3-dimensionality of the house/portrait combo makes a lot more sense, sitting in a landscape as it does – even though it isn’t meant to be a “real” house.

Incorporating stitching is usually the last step, but an element I’ve been thinking about before the first pencil mark even hit the paper. However, it too is influenced by what goes before, as noted in the caption above, and sometimes ends up being completely different from what I’d initially imagined.

It’s these small, thoughtful steps along the way, many of which can’t be predicted, that make a piece what it ultimately becomes. For the most part, I’ve learned it’s worth being patient, and trusting that the piece itself will lead me in the right direction.

❖

How many times have you read an article that challenges readers to name 3-5 women artists, correctly insinuating that it’s difficult to do in a culture that has historically ignored the accomplishments of women in our field?

Women Painters Book

When we were in Berkeley last month, I managed to find time — correction: I MADE time — to stop by Mrs. Dalloway’s – Literary and Garden Arts, a treasure of a local bookstore. I picked up a little gem that fit easily into my bag and that I think you might like too: An Opinionated Guide to Women Painters . It’s a concise compendium that covers, with images, “65 female artists from throughout history and across the world”. There are names you will recognize and plenty you won’t. The contributors have done their best to see that no one is stumped by the ‘name 5 female artists’ question again.