Category Archives: Discussion

Big Switch

I need more technological simplicity in my life.
To that end, I’m facing the unpleasant reality that it is time to migrate my website and blog from WordPress to a simpler platform. It’s not a project or process I’m looking forward to but, the fact is, it’s a switch I can’t hold off any longer.

I’m probably the last to arrive at the party, but I’ve been swept up in the romance of a Blackwing pencil lately. Buttery smooth as it glides across the page, it brings a new delight to drawing. The downside is that it smudges, transferring to other pages — as you can see on the spread above. Plus, it has that graphite shine. But I do love the texture of its marks and how good it feels to draw with – so I plan to pick up a few more.

What I’ve learned so far is that transferring the website content shouldn’t be anywhere near the challenge of moving my blog. Considering that I have been posting consistently since November of 2014 — weekly for the first five years and biweekly ever since — that adds up to a crazy 426 posts, including today’s.

I do love an asymmetrical composition. Started here with the Blackwing, followed by spots of color and a richer black.

Logistically, it would be way too overwhelming to carry all of them over from one platform to the other, so I am going to have to do some serious weeding. My plan is to set up an archive on my new site which will include a selection of previous posts and then just carry on from there. The full blog digest, as it is today, will be unavailable once the migration is complete.

How lovely it is to have the garden coming back to life – the perfect setting for quick captures.

The biggest challenge is deciding which posts to transfer. I will be going through my backlog to choose the ones that seem most relevant to readers in the future, but any input you may have would be a huge help and very much appreciated.

With that in mind, I’d like to take an informal poll:

In general, are pasts posts of any value to you?
Are there any which you particularly remember and would like to be able to refer to again in the future?

In the past and moving forward, what is most beneficial and of interest to you?

Descriptions of process?
Book recommendations?
Sharing random content? (Articles, Artists, YouTube videos, Art Supplies)
Exhibition reviews?
Travel recaps?
General musings?
Other?

I’ll look forward to your thoughts in the comments, or please feel free to email me directly. Thanks!!
I’ll be plugging away in the background for the foreseeable future and will keep you updated.

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Meanwhile…
As I move along in my “season of practice“, this Substack post by James Gurney (about the value of working small and in sketchbooks) really resonated with me. How about you?

Comfort Through Discomfort

2 Replies

I am finding myself in a season of practice. It wasn’t planned, but here I am. And what surprises me most is that it’s not an uneasy place to be…for the most part.

Our early blooming Korean azalea marks the beginning of each growing season in our back garden. Gouache (top) vs watercolor sketches. What I find most interesting in these experiments is that they show possibilities for pushing toward abstraction.

All I want to do these days is play with materials and allow myself the space and grace to relax into exploration for its own sake. In part, this may be a response to the past year, one filled with changes and milestones, both personal and professional. I’m more than ready to let the wind blow me around for a bit.

I always ask our life drawing models if it’s ok to take a photo. In the moment it allows me to see details that aren’t possible unless I’m right up in their faces. Most are happy to oblige. I don’t ever share the photos elsewhere, but I can return to them later for practice. This is done with gouache. It’s all about color here.

That said, I realize that in the long run it will serve me to set up a few guardrails in order to find a path and to stay on track. My current task is to try to figure out exactly what those parameters will be.

Photos from our travels offer plenty of opportunity for experimenting with different materials. These images of the chapel at Scone Palace in Scotland were made with watercolor, gouache & pencil (top) – I love the way that you can see the strokes of pencil over the paint. The bottom drawing is made with Neocolor IIs and a Koh-i-noor Negro pencil. Due to their waxy nature, not much will make a mark over the Neocolors. It was a huge discovery to find that this pencil will.

It’s somewhat slow going. Some days don’t feel particularly productive or, probably because of that, comfortable. Yet, playing around with intention can be a lot of fun, and my gut tells me that spending this time now will bear fruit later.

This experiment was geared more toward the paper than the drawing materials or paint. I don’t want to bother with a bulky sketchbook when we travel, so finding the right paper for making my own is key. So far Fabriano Artistico bright white wins.

Overall, I have faith that investigation minus specific goals or time constraints isn’t aimless; it’s the route to eventually cracking open a new realm of possibility. Unearthing unexpected and (hopefully) insightful discoveries between process and materials can only surface by diving down rabbit holes with a mindset of “what if?”.

Drawing the models in the endless catalogs that come in day after day makes for an easily accessible source for figure drawing practice on the fly — not to mention helping me feel like the catalogs weren’t a total waste before throwing them in the recycling bin.

So that’s where I’m headed.

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Latest inspiring finds:

Katia Shumkova –

The Bridge – a series of letters between artists Stacey McCall and Elizabeth Barnett , asking questions about art, creative practice and life. The big things and the small.

And, I can’t wait to visit Paper & Pencil the next time we’re in Chicago. Let me know if you get there first.

Let’s Talk Social

What are your thoughts about Instagram these days?
For me, it’s lost a lot of its luster in the last couple of years and, because I used to love it, I’ve been trying to put my finger on exactly why that is.

I’ve stepped back quite a bit from it since last fall, curious to see how that would feel. Mostly I wanted to figure out why I use it and what I actually get out of it. Granted, the novelty has worn off and I’ve become more protective of my time. But by and large, I’ve decided I’m aggravated by the algorithm and its effects. Obviously, I’m not the first to complain about this issue.

I’ve arrived at a point where I’m on the fence. I’m grateful for the art/artists Instagram introduces me to that I would never see otherwise (and if I’m honest, for the dog and travel videos that give me a lift after the news has fried my brain with its incessant bleakness). But on the other hand, many of the profiles I used to love to follow just don’t show up in my feed anymore. I have to remember who they were and try to seek them out, and that takes even more time, resulting in a diminishing of the sense of community that attracted me in the first place. And I haven’t even mentioned all the ads one has to wade through.

What I’m working on this week: Blue Turtleneck. First pass

So I’m curious — what are your thoughts about it all? How do you manage the time-suck? Do you find yourself taking more and more time to craft posts or stories with bells and whistles to make them more eye-catching? Have you found a way to get back to seeing the profiles you followed before the algorithm messed around with everything? And are you too feeling overrun by all the ads?

Blue Turtleneck As the paint builds up, patterns begin to emerge

Please share your thoughts. I’d like to think it’s possible to figure out a way to use Instagram again, rather than it using us.

Blue Turtleneck, The resist is removed and the painting is complete. Time to incorporate stitching

All that said, I’m much more likely to turn to Substack before Instagram these days. I particularly like that the folks who post there seem to be offering information, rather than just a show and tell. Most of what I’ve found at Substack is thought-provoking in a good way. Admittedly, it takes time to read, so I tend to concentrate on just one or two posts at a time rather than mindlessly scrolling through dozens. But I invariably come away with something meaty to think about, and I consider that a success.

Blue Turtleneck, Still far from complete, the stitching is just beginning to take shape. But even at this early stage, I think it adds a lot and I’m enjoying the way it plays off and with the background pattern.

Here are a handful of favorite artists/illustrators that I follow:

Harry Stooshinoff
Anna Wilson – A Bottle Full of Rain
Amy Allen – Palate & Palette
Eleanor Doughty – Hand to Paper
Amy Huntington – Blue Crow Studio
Lucia Leyfield – The Ink Pad

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On a completely different note:
Studio Place Arts is holding its annual “Art It Up!” silent auction to benefit SPA programs. A variety of artwork, created and donated by local artists, is on display in person at SPA but you can see the full catalog, make bids or buy outright online as well. Bidding concludes on Friday, June 5th at 4pm.
I can’t say enough good things about what SPA adds to our community, so this is a win/win opportunity to support them.

Spring Sampling

Winter is beginning to loosen its grasp so the world feels like it’s opening back up again.
Here is a sampling of the out-and-about arty goodness that’s captured my eye and consumed my interest since my last post.

My life drawing group

Siouxsie ©2026 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor, 11.75 x 16.5 I am regularly asked about the sketchbook I use during our drawing sessions. It’s the largest one I could find — a Moleskine hardcover with watercolor paper. It only comes with cold press paper, which is a bit of a disappointment as I prefer hot press, but considering this is the second one I’ve bought, I happily recommend it.

Playing in the studio, thinking about pattern

For example, this

became this (in detail). It’s nothing to write home about, but offered lots of micro discoveries along the way.

Working small (this one is 6″ x 5″) allows me to unearth valuable insights and to make mistakes without too much investment. I can then carry what I learn on to the next one.

Jug & Vase ©2026 Elizabeth Fram, Gouache, 7.75″ x 5″ Not addressing stitching yet, but there’s a lot about this that I love: the looseness, the luxuriousness of the paint, the cropped design. That said, it’s just one more step on my road, not a destination. I still don’t know what’s waiting around the corner.

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Leo Twiggs

My friend, photographer & quilt artist Roz Daniels, recommended I look up the artist Leo Twiggs in light of a separate discussion we were having. I found a wonderful documentary called “Arriving: Leo Twiggs and his Art”. In light of my explorations with pattern above, his wisdom is exactly what I need to hear at this particular juncture. Here’s a brief quote:

“Art is a journey and it’s an adventure. And you don’t really know where you’re going. There’s no navigation…you have to find your way…What you do is arrive at places…you can’t go there. You have to arrive there.”

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Lots of new exhibitions have opened and it’s been a treat to see some of them in person. A few highlights from each show:

You’re An Animal
Sculptures by Jennifer McCandless
Soapbox Arts, March 12 – April 25

Modern Romance © Jennifer McCandless, Ceramic, 17.5 x 9.5 x 9.5 photo: from Soapbox Arts website

The Work of Paper: Juried Show 2026
Edgewater Gallery, February 28 – March 28

Leaving Behind, detail, Ania Gilmore

Brimming: Mary Hill and Betsy Chapek
Studio Place Arts, Second floor gallery, March 11 – April 18

Book Lab: Collaborations
Studio Place Arts, Third floor gallery March 11 – April 18

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And lastly

Dense with indispensable information. I am slowly making my way through this library book. It’s so good that I’ll likely add it to my Kindle library.

And now I have to ask – what is Spring bringing to your neck of the woods?

Before I forget, I will be away from my desk for a bit in the coming weeks, so my next post will be April 23rd. Until then.

Organized Chaos

Self-Portrait ©2026 Elizabeth Fram, Gouache & Embroidery on paper, 6 x 8 inches This represents a couple of firsts: my first time painting a face using gouache and a first self-portrait. While I think the stitched pattern works well in this case, what I’m ultimately aiming for is to find a way to more fully integrate pattern, stitching and paint with each other.

I have an uncle who wrote a regular newspaper column for years. During family get-togethers, including major holidays, he would inevitably sequester himself from the family group for a bit so he could meet his deadline. I was just a kid, but still peripherally aware that his challenge included what to write about week after week; it never occurred to me then how personal that memory might become.

Bowl and Cup, in process ©2026 Elizabeth Fram This piece shows my most exciting discovery to date. I absolutely LOVE the almost batik-like effect of the pattern which lies underneath this image. Gouache’s inherent nature to reactivate with water has worked to my advantage here. That said, it’s also a very tricky operation. I haven’t had a chance to add stitching to this piece, but I have ideas…

There are weeks when I really struggle with what to post here. It’s not that I lack things to share, but rather the challenge can be figuring out how to weave together my behind-the-scenes loose ends in a presentable and, hopefully, interesting way. It’s one thing to make the work, another altogether to write about it coherently, especially when it’s in a place of transition.

Establishing an under-layer of pattern with paint as a first step.

Anyway, that’s the spot I find myself in this week – trying to articulate organized chaos. I’ve been plenty busy, but other than just showing you my progress, I lack a cohesive way to explain where I’m headed, especially since I’m not exactly sure yet where that might be. I’m puzzling my way through unknown territory and thus finding comfort in that discomfort.

In progress ©2026 Elizabeth Fram, Gouache on paper Look closely and you’ll see that I painted this portrait on top of the above under-layer. I learned a couple of important lessons to carry forward. Still planning to stitch on this one, but again, haven’t yet had time.

The one thing I know from experience is that the secrets I’m hoping to uncover will only float to the surface through doing the work. One has to venture down a lot of dead-ends before finding the road through.
I’ll have to ask my uncle if that’s how it worked for him too.

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A colorful reminder that Spring is on its way.

The Reward of January

Happy New Year!

I’ve been getting my ducks lined up for the new year ahead – what about you?
What’s on your creative agenda for 2026?

With no chores hanging over me, I loved having time to sketch at our Airbnb every morning over Christmas week. This is Tom Leonard, Scottish Poet, painted from a photo I took at the National Portrait Gallery of Scotland, of a bronze bust by Alex Main (love what Main has to say in this short YouTube video)

Now that December’s festivities and accompanying chores are in the rearview, I’m pretty excited to get back into the studio. Sketchbook time and logging ideas/notes in my studio journal is a given, but otherwise last month’s change of scene (Christmas in Berkeley) and a holiday project for our new grand baby, were a good reset. Taking a breather – whether chosen or imposed – can be a very productive way to keep the creative juices flowing. Or maybe it’s just that absence from the studio makes the heart long to get back to it…or something like that.

The best way to learn about values is to minimize them

And suddenly it’s January — a month that I find tends to be relatively spacious and under-scheduled compared to the other eleven — or does it just seem that way because December is always overflowing? Either way, the weeks of January give us a chance to act on the new year’s sense of possibility. And that in itself is a gift.

A section of our yard, in greener days

My guidepost for the next month (and hopefully beyond) will be one of James Clear’s ideas from his most recent 3-2-1 Thursday Newletter:

“To learn, wander. To achieve, focus.”

I’m planning to put both approaches into action. I am following Peggy Kroll Roberts on Patreon and just enrolled in Lena Rivo’s course “Color Mastery”, which will give me a chance to dive deeply into gouache, as well as, I hope, new ways to think about incorporating stitching.

It was rainy and gray almost every day we were away which, frankly, I don’t mind. It helps other colors sing

Time to get to work!
And best of luck to you as you jump into 2026.

Risk, Discovery, Momentum

With Art at the Kent now in the rearview, I’ve just finished another broken vase and shadow piece and have a fresh sheet of paper stretched on my board, ready to begin a new one. I still need to get these pieces out of my system before I can move on.

Even so, I’ve spent the majority of my studio time pushing forward with gouache. It’s a dance of two steps forward, one step back, yet feels ever so liberating. With each sketch – and at this point they are definitely just sketches – I’m becoming more aware of what a deep and, at times, mysterious pond I’ve jumped into.

Stlll, there are plenty of folks to lead the way. Aside from masters such as Paul Klee, Lois Dodd, and Fairfield Porter, contemporary painters like Lena Rivo, Maru Godas, and Mike Hernandez give me plenty to think about and to study.

In a timely bit of kismet, I was listening to an “I Like Your Work” podcast by Erika b Hess in which she touched on the commonality, and even the bravery, of delving into the fresh territory of a new medium. Her characterization of such explorations as a period of “risk, discovery, and momentum” nails the feeling. What better time than now, after a couple of big exhibitions, to thwart complacency by breathing some fresh air into my practice?

Orange and Purple Bowl

Please note: I’ll be back in four weeks (Nov. 20th). We have a date to meet our first grandbaby!

Epiphany

My father passed away last week.
He was a Mainer through and through, a fact upon which most of his life hinged.

White Pines 1

Sitting by his bedside during his final week, I listened as he fondly reminisced about many things that were so “him”, including: his love of being on the water (he marked periods of his life by sailboats, much the way many of us recount the years by the succession of dogs who have graced our families), the pride he had in crafting the delicate curve of a particularly challenging set of table legs for one of his many fine furniture projects, and memories of the island people whose salt-of-the-earth integrity had greatly influenced his own approach to life throughout his 98 years.

Early in the morning, before going down to be with him, I would sit on his apartment porch and take a few moments to quietly paint the nearby pine trees — tall and stately Eastern White Pines, which coincidentally are Maine’s state tree.

White Pines 3

I realized as I worked to capture their distinctively irregular shapes that these sturdy conifers could be seen as an apt representation of the man who, along with our mother, had raised my brother and me: tall, upright, determined, resilient, unique, long-lived, and even, to make a terrible pun that he would have loved to hate, a bit sappy (classical music, especially Bach, could bring him to tears).

Much of making art is seeing the connections and metaphors that hover over our lives. Thanks to this unexpected sketching epiphany, I have a new way of seeing and remembering Dad — not only here in Vermont, but especially along his beloved coast of Maine.

White Pines 2

Rolodex of Inspiration

Walking to the compost the other morning, this sight caught my eye.

Hosta Leaf

I’m not sure what creature or disease found this one particular hosta leaf, ignoring all others on this and numerous other plants, but considering how much I’ve been immersed in knotless netting over the past several months, I was immediately smitten.

My camera roll is filled with such images — quick captures of all sorts of things that grab me in the moment and which would soon be forgotten if I didn’t take the shot. The results would mean absolutely nothing to anybody else, but to me they are a reminder that inspiration for my work is everywhere.

The color combination of magenta and burnt orange in humble drips from my chipotle and beet leftover lunch concoction, were recorded and became the root inspiration of a later work.

Similarly, for years I’ve kept a couple of cheap spiral sketchbooks that I continue to fill with images of all sorts. Gleaned from anywhere and everywhere, just looking through them gets my creative juices flowing.

My inspiration notebooks with assorted images waiting to be glued into them

For the most part these images (or parts of them) are merely jumping-off points. Various elements — be it a shape, a color combination, a texture, you name it — are ripe for contributing to the structural underpinnings of some future unknown piece, or for making my way past the inevitable stumbling blocks that crop up in the middle of works in progress.

Those drips on my lunch plate were the impetus behind this piece from 2011

Deceptively simple yet worth their weight in gold, these resources are my rolodex of inspiration. Often lying dormant for years, somewhere down the line one image will seed exactly the idea I need.

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Distraction of the week:

Take a swing through Susan Lichtman’s website – her paintings are a wonderful dance between representation and abstraction, with light carrying the rhythm.

Nothing Lasts Forever

I received an email in May alerting me that Pocket, the free save-for-later app I’ve been using for years to store all sorts of reading content, is going away. This change is a bit like mandatory closet-cleaning, forcing me to make my way through the virtual piles I’ve amassed, deciding what to keep and what to toss before it all disappears into the ether.

It’s been a handy app to have but, if I’m honest, I’ve used it like a virtual attic, forgetting most of what I’ve stowed there once it was safely saved. Rediscovering what is still relevant and getting rid of the rest is long overdue.

Here are 5 links I’ve unearthed that are worth saving & sharing:

Jerry Saltz’s 33 Rules for Being an Artist
“Making Your Life as an Artist” by Andrew Simonet
“10 Creative Audiobooks to Artistically Inspire Your Mind Through Your Ears”, compiled by Sara Barnes
“Drawing is the Best Way to Learn, Even if You’re No Leonardo da Vinci”, by Anne Quito
Get lost amidst The Louvre’s collection, no matter where you are

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On the more creative side of things, you may remember that in March I began experimenting with knotless netting as another way to add textural interest to my paintings. Those explorations have continued behind the scenes while I’ve been pulling “Full Bloom” together and getting it launched.

Here are a handful of the pieces I’ve been working on. I’ll have more to show next time.

Great Blue © 2025 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor & knotless netting on paper, 6 x 8 inches. The heron silhouette was painted with gold pigment watercolor that I bought from Daniel Smith when we lived near Seattle, decades ago. It’s a powdered pigment that comes to life once you add water – and the fact that it remains dry until you choose to use it is probably why it has lasted so well across the years. It’s lovely on paper but hard to capture in a photo.

Fleeting Recollections ©2025 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor & knotless netting on paper, 6 x 8 inches What is it with the birds? I’m not absolutely sure, but “memory” has remained in the back of my mind as I’ve worked on these pieces. Somehow birds feel like a suitable metaphor for carrying that idea forward.

Memory Vessel ©2025 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor & knotless netting on paper, 6 x 8 inches Moving on to objects… This pitcher is an old family item that doesn’t belong to me and probably isn’t worth much monetarily. Still, it holds within it a sense of place, and that in itself is priceless.