Category Archives: Artists

Re-Balancing

One of the things I most enjoy, and am very grateful for in my day-to-day, is that my well of projects never runs dry. Still, balance is necessary to keep things in sync and moving forward smoothly. January was packed with administrative chores and various commitments, both art-related and otherwise, which took me away from studio work more days than I would have preferred — and I’m feeling the pinch.

JR with Tombows

Let’s hear it for sketchbooks – a space to work through ideas, experiment with materials (as with the Tombow brush pens used above), and to find sanity when computer chores feel overwhelming.

However, for the month of February I’m shifting weight, so to speak, and will spend less time on outreach and more hours just making work. That includes here at Eye of the Needle too. Rather than writing and rewriting as usual, I’ll just share a few recommendations below that I’m sure you’ll enjoy, and then will turn away from the computer in favor of my needles and brushes.

Trichromancy Poster

Last Saturday the group show Trichromancy: Color Divination opened at the Chandler Gallery in Randolph, VT. I have three pieces on view, including “Poseidon’s Garden”, shown in the upper left of this announcement,  The event was well attended and spirits were high. I was having such a good time with friends, meeting new people and running into folks I haven’t seen for a long while that I never even thought to bring out my phone to take pictures of the work on display. Bad form for a blogger, but a lovely indication of the convivial evening, and perhaps an impetus for you to go see the show for yourself.

I really enjoyed this interview with Sandi Hester on Maria Stoljar’s “Talking With Painters” podcast.

Hester, whom I’ve recommended before, is a hoot. She always shares generously about her practice and, in this particular case, talks about approaching it with joy, authenticity and especially without taking herself too seriously. Wise words for all of us. Consider giving it a watch — there’s something in there for just about anyone.

Finally, good art writing is hard to find. Quite often it’s a slog through erudite art-speak that encourages napping rather than digging deeper to learn more.
Not so with Dian Parker! Parker is a Vermont artist who has written extensively about color and contributes to a wide assortment of art publications. Her reviews and essays about individual artists are succinct and enlightening, always encouraging a desire to look further. Check out her review of Celia Paul ; I can almost guarantee you’ll be Googling to find out more as soon as you finish.

Nnenna Okore Sketch

I sketched SDA conference presenter Nnenna Okore  while she spoke about her use of bioplastics in her efforts to bring awareness to sustainable practices in art. There is a theory, which I believe whole-heartedly is true,  that one hears better while drawing.

That’s it for this week. And here’s to finding that sweet spot of balance in all our practices!

 

Capturing the Essence of Time

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

Ken Leslie Retrospective

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

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

Ken Leslie, Uummannaq Equinox Cycle

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

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

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

Ken Leslie Winter Cycle

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

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

Ken Leslie Sky Journal

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

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

Ken Leslie Night Journal

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

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

Ken Leslie, Sky and Night Journals

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

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

Ken Leslie Upernavik Summe Cycle

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

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

And on a different note:

Are you familiar with the Architecture + Design Film Series?

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

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

Happy Thanksgiving!

Southern Venture

Ready for a quick trip to the South?
Last week we visited Charleston, SC and Savannah, GA and, as on most travels, there was plenty of art to enjoy in the moment and to think about after coming home. Here are a few highlights from The Gibbes Museum of Art in Charleston, my favorite of the various art venues we visited.

Imagined Boundaries

Imagined Boundaries    ©2017 – present, Raheleh Filsoofi, Multimedia Installation.     In this striking wall installation, Filsoofi asks viewers to consider — What is a limit? What is a border? Who is on the other side? Her aim is to interrupt cultural preconceptions and to create dialogue around socio-political issues such as borders, immigration and community building by creating boxes that act as portals communicating shared humanity.

R Filsoofi Stills

These are still shots from a video within one of Filsoofi’s boxes. The viewer becomes participant in that the video subjects appear to be checking us out as closely as we are observing them.

 

Alison Saar

Self Portrait Emma    ©2002 Alison Saar, Oil on Skillet.   Saar’s work frequently focuses on societal notions regarding the positioning of African Americans and women in domestic realms. This oil portrait of a domestic worker on the bottom of a frying pan is intentionally faint, (I have drastically over-exposed my photo to make it visible to you) invoking the relative invisibility of a typical household cook or kitchen maid.

 

Never Again, Alison Saar

Never Again   ©Mary Jackson, Sweetgrass and palmetto. Mary Jackson is an internationally recognized master of sweetgrass basketry. This piece took 3 years to complete.

What attracted me to The Gibbes Museum in the first place was their collection of miniature portraits. According to the museum’s literature, the first-ever American miniatures were painted in Charleston and the Gibbes collection holds over 600 works spanning from early colonial examples of the 18th century to the Revival Period of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
They are remarkable!

Weston by Fraser

H.F. Plowden Weston,  by Charles Fraser, 1824

Miss Reynolds by Fraser

Miss Reynolds of Fenwick Hall,   by Charles Fraser, 1835

Memminger by Fraser

Christopher Gustavus Memminger,   by Charles Fraser, 1823   This gentleman looks so familiar to me! I think I’ve watched way too many Masterpiece period dramas.

Jack Farthing

Actor Jack Farthing

Jackson Sketchbook

How wonderful to see Joseph Jackson’s sketchbook which held preliminary portraits that he may have used to impress perspective clients.

Moving on, there’s nothing quite like an independent bookstore for providing a sense of grounding when visiting a new locale. Curated shelves that reflect local pride in the history, authors and artists of a place reveal the rich undercurrent of a city in a way that generic travel books can’t begin to match.
If you’re willing to snoop around a bit, you never know what you might discover. A visit to Buxton Books in Charleston opened a couple of interesting doors for me.

Fletcher Williams III

I loved the art on the cover of this book of poetry by South Carolinian Marlanda Dekine, and had to find out more about Fletcher Williams III, the artist who created it. The piece is named “Westward”.

It turns out that Williams has a resume that extends far beyond book cover illustration. He is a multi-media artist living and working in Charleston, making identity-based art and is a rising star. With an academic foundation in psychology and anthropology, his artwork speaks to the history of Charleston and the culture of the Lowcountry, but not in the way one might expect.

Cathedral

Cathedral    ©2010 Fletcher Williams III

Taking time to follow the interview links on Williams’ website gave me a much deeper understanding of both his artistic aims and the challenges he confronts. He is incredibly thoughtful and articulate. His discussion regarding having to navigate the complexities of feeling pressured to speak to the Black experience, while coping with narratives thrust upon him and his artwork that are not his own, was enlightening. While I don’t think one can ever fully grasp the underlying dynamics of a specific place unless one is a native, I found it fascinating (and important) to get a glimpse, via his interviews, beyond the usual tropes and assumptions.

 

And for those more interested in textiles, the other book that caught my attention was Embroidery: Threads and Stories from Alabama Chanin and the School of Making by Natalie Chanin. It was way too fat and heavy to bring home in my carry-on, but I snagged a Kindle edition and am looking forward to reading, rather than just flipping through this part autobiography, part “exploration into how sewing and embroidery relate to wider concerns of sustainability, community and women’s empowerment”.

If you go, other bookstores to explore in both cities:
Blue Bicycle Books, Charleston
E. Shaver, Bookseller, Savannah

Two museums to check out in Savannah:
Telfair Academy (The first museum in the US founded by a woman), and
The Jepson Art Center
Oh, and there’s a Blick store in Savannah too!

And now, it’s nice to be home.

 

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

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

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.

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

Lalla Essaydi Bullets #3

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.

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.

Diedrick Brackens the cup is a cloud

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.

Syd Carpenter, Indiana Hutson

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.

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”.

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

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.

Eroded Boundaries

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.

Eroded Boundaries

Eroded Boundaries    ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor, graphite and stitching on paper, 9.5 x 12 inches

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.

Painted Thread

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.

Stitching

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.

Barack Obama   ©2018 Kehinde Wiley, Oil on canvas, National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution

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.

Gainsborough The Blue Boy

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

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.

Huntington Botanical Gardens

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

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!

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.

Daisy Barrette

Daisy Barrette   ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Ink and watercolor on paper, 8.5 x 11 inches

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.

Joe Ciardiello, Jimmy Smith

© Joe Ciardiello, Jimmy Smith

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?

Hooded

Hood   ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Ink and watercolor, 8.5 x 11 inches

 

Paying Tribute

I was saddened to read last week that Jerry Uelsmann has died.
During college, we probably spent at least 95% of our time learning about art and artists of the past, but Uelsmann was a living artist who broke through that wall of antiquity.

Uelsmann portrait

Jerry Uelsmann, detail   ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and gouache on paper, 12 x 9 inches. Working on these portraits is such good practice – but so humbling. I’m learning how important it is not to rush through the drawing phase. If I lay out the drawing and then leave it to come back to later, time and space make it easier to see where adjustments are needed.

Looking back, his work definitely had a formative impact on me. While I was intrigued by the ideology of the Dada movement and iconic surrealists like Dali, I found it hard to connect with much of their work. Jerry Uelsmann was a contemporary exception; his imagery spoke to me and stayed with me. His “artful juxtapositions”, as his NY Times obituary termed them, were both approachable and curious. Looking back, I think it was Uelsmann’s photo montages that first nudged me toward grasping the importance of looking for and creating unexpected connections.

Uelsmann Poster

I’ve always loved this image. This old dorm room poster is tacked to my office wall, where I still enjoy it every day.

The mystical quality of his photos pulled me in, appealing to my college-age self by feeding the desire to find meaning that comes with growing into adulthood. Yet even all these years later, his images still touch on something fundamental.

Electric Milk

Electric Milk © Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor on paper, 30 x 22 inches. This ancient painting (c. 1979) was inspired by the surrealistic objective to defy reason and Uelsmann’s example of combining disparate objects.

Intellectually, the intent behind his imagery still remains just out of reach, but one can understand enough of his visual language to feel encouraged that translation is possible — perhaps through the vocabulary of dreams. The various elements within each finished image have enough relatability to give the resulting montages an essence of personal relevance despite their mystery. Ultimately, he poses riddles that connect to something within our deeper selves.

Uelsmann Book

I still refer to this wonderful monograph for inspiration and escape.

Uelsmann was a pioneer, conjuring in the 1960s what he appropriately termed “the alchemy of the darkroom”.  Photoshop may have made that form of magic accessible on a more universal scale, but I’ve yet to find work that contains the same haunting aura of myth which makes Uelsmann’s work so memorable.

Look Into the (Working) Mind of an Artist

First things first:
This week marks the opening of Transitions at Axel’s Gallery in Waterbury, VT. This show explores change – through both material and concept, as seen through the eyes and hands of members of the Vermont chapter of the Surface Design Association. It runs through the end of the month.

Ulysses' Wave

Ulysses’ Wave ©2014 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye, paint and embroidery on silk, 19″H x 38″W x 2.25″D. My piece in the show is a meditation on how so often life mimics nature. How we see change coming from a distance, feel we are prepared, but are somehow shocked when it arrives. Strips of raw silk, hand-dyed to gradually transition from bright green to a subdued neutral, abruptly end in blue.  Over-dyed patterns, created via stitched-resist and further enhanced with embroidery and paint, reinforce a sense of continuity. They roil and swell, not unlike a massive wave that, despite seeing it coming, still takes your breath away as it crashes into you. Read more about the creation and concept behind this piece, in real time.

I’ll be at the Artist Reception Saturday, April 9th, 4-6pm. Please join us!

Transitions Post Card

Now for our regularly scheduled programming…
I owe a debt of gratitude to the friend who mentioned last month that she was reading Walter Isaacson’s biography of Leonardo da Vinci. When the book first came out in 2017, I made a mental note to add it to my TBR list in anticipation of the time when demand at the library would calm down. But of course I forgot. Thanks to her recent reminder, I finally followed through.

It was a fascinating read.
While no one would ever question Leonardo’s genius, Isaacson uncovers just how far-reaching and fascinating his mind truly was as he balanced art with science. One reviewer of the book alluded to how fans of traditional biographies might take issue with the heavy emphasis on art history, Renaissance Italy and Isaacson’s focus on painting and other artistic techniques over a dissection of Leonardo’s personal life. But that criticism never occurred to me; I think the author had the proportion of one to the other exactly right.

It’s true, this book concentrates more on Leonardo’s creativity and his work than on the finer details of his personality. But even so, Isaacson includes more than enough information about Leonardo as an individual to give one a healthy sense of him as a person, what was important to him and how his personality affected his outlook and, in turn, his work.

Leonardo's Notebook

A page from Leonardo’s notebooks, with illustrations and notations about the embryology of the human fetus.

In the final chapter, the reader is offered a compilation list of 20 “lessons” encapsulating Leonardo’s unparalleled creativity, with the suggestion that they are skills we too can access. I’m paraphrasing several below which struck me as particularly worth passing on.

  • Be relentlessly curious
  • Go down rabbit holes – drill down for the pure joy of geeking-out.
  • Procrastinate (gather facts and let them simmer) – creativity requires time for ideas to marinate and for intuitions to gel
  • Collaborate. Innovation is a team sport; creativity is a collaborative endeavor
  • Take notes on paper. Leonardo’s notebooks are still around to astonish us

It is a huge bonus that Isaacson’s biography contains plenty of accompanying illustrations of Leonardo’s drawings, paintings and pages from his notebooks — all of which provide a fuller glimpse into the way he kept track of and teased out ideas. With that in mind, if you’re able, please make a trip to the Highland Center for the Arts in Greensboro to catch their current exhibition: Frank Woods Minor Works.

Frank Woods' Self Portraits

Three self-portraits ©Frank Woods

The appellation of “minor” is somewhat misleading; there is nothing minor about Frank’s work. I was thrilled and inspired to see an exhibit of working drawings and sketches that, while perhaps initially created as a platform upon which larger work would be built, have much to say in their own right.  It’s always a privilege to get a feeling for an artist’s process and to have a bit of access into how s/he works through ideas. Having such a window into an artist’s mind – especially one whose work I respect as much as Frank’s – or Leonardo’s for that matter – is a gift indeed.

SnowMoon

This image of  developmental sketches, next to the final piece that evolved from them, shows my personal approach to working drawings. I, too, maintain a notebook/sketchbook to keep track of fleeting ideas as they occur to me and to record notes from all sorts of sources: meetings, reading, workshops, etc. It’s helpful to have everything in one place and I definitely prefer analog to digital. FYI: I’m a big fan of Dingbats Eco-Friendly Notebooks ; there are a variety of options available.  Snow Moon, ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk with foraged branches, 18.5″H x 9″W x 7.5″D, Private Collection. Photo: Paul Rogers Photography

Last, but not least – apologies for the repeat blog delivery a week ago. I definitely don’t want to gum up your inbox. Without straying too far into TMI territory, let’s just say MailChimp automatic delivery has been something of a challenge lately.

As I write this, my fingers are crossed that the issue is now fixed. But I won’t know for sure until after this post’s scheduled delivery time (Friday @ 4:00am ET). Meanwhile, your patience is and has been greatly appreciated.

 

Unexpected Gifts

I’ve been thinking lately about how, despite the ups and downs that come with wending one’s way through a global pandemic, there have still been some truly unexpected bright spots over the past two years.

Considering all that is happening around the world these days, it would be foolish to take anything for granted. And perhaps the enormity of the world’s current problems explains why it’s the little moments in life that offer the greatest reprieve and joy right now.

WH Auden

WH Auden ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and pencil on paper, 12 x 9 inches       I made this portrait after reading Elisa Gabbert’s fabulous interactive feature “A Poem (and a Painting) About the Suffering that Hides in Plain Sight”, which appeared in the NY Times on March 6th. Her piece centers on Auden’s poem “Musée des Beaux Arts”. I found it very moving — another unexpected gift.

Two particular highlights that have come my way in the past 12 months were a total surprise. In both instances, I thought I was making a relatively small contribution to lighten someone else’s load, but truthfully, I’m the one who walked away with gifts far greater than earned or than I would have thought possible.

Thank you to my local art supplier, The Drawing Board, for coming up with the brilliant idea of a monthly watercolor subscription last year. When I signed up I wasn’t sure I needed a new half-pan of paint each month – but it seemed like an easy and fun way to support a local enterprise at a time when no one knew what was lurking around the corner for any business.

Seaglass

Seaglass © 2022 Elizabeth Fram     This is a test painting for a work I haven’t yet begun. I’m including  it here because the four Daniel Smith colors I mention below comprise its backbone.

The thing is, I got way more out of that subscription than I ever would have dreamed. Soon I couldn’t wait to see the regular envelope which included not only the promised paint, but also other supply surprises (paper samples, brushes, a sponge, drawing tools, etc.). As Covid dragged on, each arrival became something of an event that was just as exciting and as eagerly anticipated as when the Scholastic book order arrived in elementary school. Remember those days?

On top of that, I’m super glad to have added Daniel Smith’s Genuine Serpentine, Rose of Ultramarine, Amethyst Genuine and Mayan Dark Blue to my palette. I’m not sure I would have tried them otherwise, but they are remarkably versatile and now an integral part of my kit.

Palette

The other highlight I wanted to share with you comes in the form of a daily email from artist Janet Van Fleet, who is participating in the March Arts Marathon to benefit the Central Vermont Refugee Action Network. Every day this month she sends donors a brief recap with images of her art career as she ‘looks over her shoulder’ at her creative journey. It’s a tremendous commitment and amount of work on her part, but for those of us who follow, it has been a delight that marks how thoroughly engaged Janet is with the world, its joys and its woes. The whole exercise has made me realize how often artists’ creative paths are overlooked, and how important they are to understanding the development of someone’s work.

Hug Fish Van Fleet

Hug Fish ©2021 Janet Van Fleet, 56 x 18 x 5 inches

To a great degree, I think the practice of art is a form of translation. One of the qualities I most value about it and the people who create it, is the ability to conjure unexpected and enlightening connections — associations that strike both a universal and a personal chord with viewers. Visual analogies are a strong means for making ideas and emotions relatable and palpable.

The Beginning

The Beginning   © Janet Van Fleet, Oil on board with wine foils.     Included in her 2019 exhibit “Vanishment” in the Vermont Supreme Court  lobby, this and the painting below call attention to the devastating reality that we humans are killing off other species at alarming rates.

Please visit Janet’s website to see the breadth of her work. Look closely and you will see she is a master of metaphor. She tackles weighty subject matter without ever losing sight of the sheer joy of life. That’s a pretty impressive juggling act.

The End Van Fleet

The End   © Janet Van Fleet, Oil on board with wine foils

Her short film, March of the Teapots, will give you a sense of her marvelous imagination. And I trust it might be an unexpected gift for you today.

 

The past two years have been a long haul, but think about it — who or what has made small moments monumental for you? Whatever the answer, I’ll bet you didn’t see it coming.

I recently discovered the sprightly work of M. Louise Stanley. If you curious about someone who combines her sketchbooks with old master works, laced with a healthy sense of humor, be sure to visit her website. You can also find her on Instagram @m.louisestanley.