Category Archives: Discussion

Frida Revisited

Almost twenty years ago I made an art quilt about Frida Kahlo, hoping it would be accepted into a show at the then Thirteen Moons Gallery in Sante Fe, NM, which at the time was the premier gallery for art quilts in the country. I did a lot of research about Kahlo in preparation and, like so many others, became fascinated by her story, her strength, and her art.

Making the piece was more than a little challenging, earning its share of blood, sweat, & tears. It was a lot of tricky work to figure out how I could best combine machine and hand-work in order to achieve the effects I was going for, and I learned a tremendous amount in the process.

The happy ending is that it was accepted into the exhibit and became the first textile piece I ever sold.

Week before last, our model at life drawing came dressed as Kahlo. She is an unabashed fan, making no secret of her admiration for the artist while setting a striking likeness.

But as the session wore on it was Kathryn’s spirit, not Frida’s, that had us all under its spell as we drew and talked about the mythic painter.

On A Different Note_________________________________________________________________________

I appreciate the sentiment of this blog post from Modern Mrs. Darcy and think you might too. It’s so easy to keep one’s nose to the grindstone, making each day a perpetual puzzle of trying to fit more in around everything else, maybe it’s time to rethink that approach.
Plus, her helpfully annotated Summer Reading Guide 2018 is now available.

Post Residency Mishmash

Something I didn’t expect to face once I got home last week was how challenging it would be to re-adjust to reality after the luxury of centering my brain on largely one single thing for a span of 7 days. It’s made me even more acutely aware, not only of what a gift the week in Johnson truly was, but also of the hundreds of day-to-day concerns, big and small, we all regularly juggle just to keep our heads above water in daily life.
Therefore, if this post seems a bit all over the place, it is. But it is also a reflection of the rich and various arty things that have captured my attention as I’ve pulled myself back into my routine.

First, after working in that large, open, and mostly empty studio at VSC, I realized that despite packing up a full car-load of supplies, I doubt anyone walking into my home studio while I was away would have noticed anything was gone. In other words: time to clear out! In the midst of tackling that chore I found a stash of old drawings that I had totally forgotten.

A lot of water and art has passed under the bridge since I made this drawing in 1992 while sitting in the driveway of our house in Hawaii as our kids drew with chalk and rode a tricycle. It caught my eye immediately because I can (now) see in this jumble of boxes and beach toys, piled at the back of our carport, the roots of the sketches of the stacks of drying dishes I’ve been making for the past couple of years. Even all that time ago, without realizing it, I had an urge to distill an image into an abstraction of shapes and values, while moving outside of a self-determined frame. It’s just that it’s taken doing it many, many more times to get to the point of recognizing what I was attempting.

❖

A trip to the Vermont College of Fine Arts to see an exhibit of exceptional high school art was both exciting and humbling. Much of the work coming from these young artists was very strong. I took photos of the 10 pieces that stood out most to me, but I’ve narrowed those down to my favorite three which follow below (with a fourth thrown in…just because I can, and for reasons that most of you will guess). I see a bravery of perspective/vision and adventurous spirit in these works that is quite admirable and mature.

Sunset Journey ©Meredith Nicol, Lyndon Institute, Watercolor, pen and ink The detailed pen and ink work of this piece unfortunately doesn’t translate in this photo, but I was very impressed with the expressiveness and assured hand of this young artist.

The book I read this past week was Anthony Doerr’s Four Seasons in Rome: On Twins, Insomnia and the Biggest Funeral in the History of the World. I became very fond of Doerr’s writing style and his prowess with metaphors in All the Light We Cannot See. So paired with my own fond memories of Rome, Four Seasons landed squarely on my to-be-read and library waiting list a while ago. It was definitely worth the wait.
One word of caution: if you haven’t had kids, it might not be for you…too much talk about the messy realities of those first months. But for those of us who have had the privilege, and who know the life-altering joys and challenges that come in that first year, this book is a thing of beauty — especially when coupled with the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of Rome, which Doerr so masterfully conveys. His genius is in elevating both the simple and the monumental in such a way that they simultaneously evoke a sense of familiarity and awe.
And, although I didn’t plan it that way, it was a great read for Mother’s Day week!

Musical Rage ©Finn Rooney, Hazen Union High School, Color pencil

Lastly, we are all rejoicing as spring has finally taken hold of this corner of the world. The trees have leafed out in a matter of days, so I guess it would have been better if I had thought to share this haiku with you last week. Despite being a bit late, it still resonates and I keep going back to its simple beauty.

Jewelry

Buds on silver twigs –
Purple, scarlet, green and gold –

Spring’s bright jewelry

From A Haiku Each Day, ©Abigail M. Parker

Untitled Self Portrait ©Aidan Lodge, People’s Academy, Digital Photography The unfortunate glare on the right panel of this striking photo is mine. Apologies.

So what do all these vignettes have in common? One of art’s greatest strengths, regardless of discipline, is it accesses and clarifies the deeper elements of what we already know.

Holy Trinity ©Julia Bamford, Essex high School, Acrylic

A Week with the Tribe

To say that my week at the Vermont Studio Center was amazing is beyond an understatement.

First day, empty studio

I had plenty of room to spread out — loads of wall space, two long flat tables, and area for my easel, drying rack, and bins of supplies without any fear of tripping over something.

Quite the view out my studio window

It’s hard to describe the euphoria of spending a series of unimpeded days in the company of over 50 visual artists and writers, each as thrilled as I was to be immersed in the freedom of having the better part of a week to work through any and all artistic impulses with no other worries, let alone the daily responsibilities which tend to constantly interrupt ideas and progress.

©2018 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist Dye on Silk, 13 x 22 in. By layering organza over raw silk, each dyed separately with different stitched-resist patterns, a wonderful holographic-like effect was created that is difficult to capture in a photo.

Our studios were accessible 24 hours a day, the food was plentiful, fresh, and delicious, and the ready conversation was intriguing and warm. One could work for hours on end in solitude without thinking about anything but art, yet find instant connection and camaraderie across the table at every meal. Companionship was readily available when sought, but there were no overtones of rudeness or guilt for choosing to hibernate in one’s studio in order to keep working.

The scope of work being made was wide and inspiring, as anyone who attended the Open Studios on our final day certainly experienced. And it was a gift to have the fresh eyes and vibrant conversations that public visitors brought with them on that afternoon. It was a week of experimentation and exploration for me, testing and mixing new and diverse shibori patterns, with the goal of discovering new frameworks for future stitched imagery. Many of us don’t often have, or necessarily want, input on work that is so early in its progress, but I was grateful for the fresh insights that cropped up during the studio visits.

©2018 Elizabeth Fram 1. Stitching a big circle. The following images represent steps of a process, leading to the finished piece. I didn’t get as many photos as I should have along the way, but these show the major stages.

©2018 Elizabeth Fram 2. Folded cloth. I didn’t realize I’d forgotten to take a photo of the finished dyed circle until I’d gotten this far in the folding process – and couldn’t bring myself to go back.

It wasn’t surprising that many experienced hills and valleys within their work during the week. If you spend any time at all talking with artists, hurdles are a subject you can count on surfacing. Collective experience and the gift of time brought quick turn-arounds, but knowing how pervasive self-doubt can be, it seems both timely and appropriate that Nela Dunato Art & Design’s latest blog post deals with this issue. Check out what she has to say for a refresher that suggests ways to work around this very common stumbling block.

I can’t say enough good things about the week. And as is often the case, the best part was the other people. We arrived for the most part as strangers, but I think everyone left feeling more connected and uplifted by the sense of togetherness the week offered. It really did feel like being part of a tribe.

In Praise of Brevity

One of the side benefits of writing these weekly posts has been gaining a more thorough appreciation for and understanding of the art of editing, not just in writing but across the board.

Jonathan Shahn, Seated Figure, 1978, pencil on paper, 17 x 14 inches The emotion in this fluent drawing by sculptor Jonathan Shahn thrums with a quiet strength.

What I’m learning through regular writing, and now in my life drawing sessions, is what a steep hill there is to climb in figuring out how to get the full measure of a message across while trying to remain concise. I have a hearty respect for those who seem to have a talent, whether innate or through hard work, for distilling their thoughts into neatly succinct points, granting us access to a deep well of ideas with a minimum of lines, either written or drawn.

The art of haiku skewers the heart of a universal idea or feeling with such accuracy that one might consider it something of a miracle in a handful of syllables.

The snow is melting
and the village is flooded
with children
~Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827)

I’m sure it won’t surprise you that I was thinking about and inspired by Shahn’s and Issa’s editorial abilities as I drew this week.

On Another Note__________________________________________________________________________________________

If you are near to central Vermont, treat yourself to a visit to Studio Place Arts in Barre to see the current shows. In the main floor gallery Pleased to Meet You! is a wonderful mixture of works that bring fantastical, imaginative creatures to life while providing a welcome break from reality. Hannah Morris’ The Feast of Fools, collaged paintings and soft sculptures in the Third Floor gallery, “explore the intersection of the sublime, the absurd, and the mundane in recognizable moments and places”.
Both exhibits run from March 27 – May 12, 2018.

I walked away from my afternoon visit at SPA uplifted by how successfully it models the best of what a community art space can be: galleries, studios with accessible artists, and an executive director who actively engages and educates visitors without being intrusive. If you can, go see for yourself.

Savoring Connection

This is my studio after the last-minute push to get all the details of Drawing Threads in place. It looks like a war zone but, despite the chaos, there is a satisfying sense of quiet hovering over it now that makes me smile. Studio On the other hand, there is no way I would share a photo of my desk…let’s just say I am working among so many precariously balanced piles in order to get this post written, that I am barely breathing in the hope I don’t knock anything over.
Next on the agenda: tackle the mess so I can get back to work in an open space, with a clear head.

Long Wall

The past week has been a wonderful ride. I am so grateful for the words of encouragement and support that came from far and near in the days leading up to the opening reception, and for all those who came out on a beautiful, sunny Sunday afternoon to celebrate with me.

The lasting gift of the event was enjoying the opportunity to discuss my process and incentives with non-artists and artists alike, answering their thoughtful, in-depth questions and hearing about the connections they drew from both the sketches and the stitched pieces to their own experiences and/or artwork. For one who often spends hours and days working in solitude, listening to countless podcasts or “chatting up” my four-legged studio assistant, it was an unparalleled pleasure to have every one of those discussions.

Snug / Pick Up Sticks

And don’t you agree that, above all, it’s a sense of connection we strive for, no matter what medium we choose? So when that often elusive aspiration hits home, the reward is immeasurable.

Treats

Interestingly, a recurring point many made was that, while my photographs are crisp and their colors true, seeing the work in person was was somehow different. I think that is often the case with the tactile medium of textiles.

It brings to mind the countless, excellent reproductions of the Mona Lisa and Whistler’s Mother I have seen through the years, yet when I finally saw them in the flesh, I was taken aback by the beauty they project in person; there is a warmth and vibrancy that somehow gets lost in translation with a photo. And that is just a reality we have to live with.

Peonies

So let me encourage you to go to your local museums and galleries. See the art in person. Even if you aren’t sure you’re going to like what you see, you may be pleasantly surprised. And the unexpected bonus you may find is a sense of connection that you didn’t even know you were looking for.

When 1 + 1 = More

Having decided to include both drawings and stitched work in Drawing Threads, I have been thinking quite a bit about multi-disciplinary artists lately. I’m sure their motivations are as varied as the artists themselves, but I do wonder about the thought process of those who choose to divide their energy between mediums.

The main reason that drawing has become such a mainstay in my own practice boils down to time. Being able to complete a thought and have a sense of accomplishment in one sitting, rather than the days into weeks that large textile pieces require, has propelled my ideas forward much more quickly in both disciplines.

The following is an excerpt on the subject of multi-disciplinary work from an interview with Lisa Ferber on the Huffington Post Blog, 3.21.12

Explore. Don’t feel a need to stick to just one method of self-expression. “You are not just a writer or an artist — you are a creative person, so don’t limit yourself to a particular medium, such as painting, writing, or performing,” says Ferber. “I love being multidisciplinary. I see myself and all people as unlimited creative forces. I always create out of joy, whether it’s with a pen or a brush or in front of a video camera.

With that thought in mind, I’d like to share several of my favorite artists from Instagram who spread their work between more than one discipline.

Australian artist Veronica Cay, pairs drawings/paintings with ceramic sculptures. She often incorporates snippets of fabric into both, adding an interesting dimension that — no big surprise — is particularly appealing to me.

Veronica Cay Transgress, Whatever Happened

Nigel Cheney is an extraordinary draughtsman from the UK whose eye for detail also translates into a passion for stitch.

©Nigel Cheney “Hare”, 2009 (left) “Cinquecento”, detail 2010 (right)

Geninne Zlatkis’ work depicts animals, birds, and plants. She paints their images on paper, tools them into leather, and etches them into the pottery she creates. She also makes masterful hand-carved stamps. Her stunningly colorful photography captures the New Mexico landscape where she lives and the natural objects she collects from it.

©Geninne Zlatkis “Blue Bird”, (left) Leather Cuff, 2015 (right)

Zachari Logan, whom I’ve written about before here and here, combines a spectacular drawing practice with equally intriguing ceramic sculptures.

©Zachari Logan “Fountain I”, hand-built clay body, 4x4x4.5 feet, 2013 (left) “Metamorphosis 2”, blue pencil on mylar, 10 x 17 inches, 2013 (right)

Lynn Chapman is a self-described plein air painter, textile artist, and illustrator from the UK. She is very active with Urban Sketchers. The lines of her drawings are fluid, economical, and very expressive, while her textile pieces celebrate color and marks with an equally flowing feel.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t also mention friends who balance more than one discipline…

Dianne Shullenberger’s textile collages, colored pencil drawings, and sculptural objects are an ongoing expression of her love for nature.
Almuth Palinkas is a tapestry artist and painter. Her devotion to beauty is evident in all her work.
And Roz Daniels makes striking art quilts that, as with her stunning photographs, depict her strong inclination toward simple geometry.

And of course many, many masters delved into multiple mediums.
One final thought: when you have time, read this article about Ellsworth Kelly’s Temple for Light, which is an inspiring culmination of multidisciplinary achievement and, in many ways, a place to worship the deep waters of creativity.

Polishing Memories

After a welcome vacation, I am back to my routine. When I sat down to write and consider images for this post, it suddenly occurred to me that I took very few photos and spent even less time drawing while away.

We were visiting two favorite places, San Francisco and Kailua, Oahu, easily the cream-of-the-crop of the numerous locales my husband and I have called home during our life together. For once, I didn’t feel any particular need to record what I was seeing, and for the most part I just let the sights and experiences be enough. It was surprisingly liberating.

An intricately decorated bowl from the De Young Museum’s exhibit “Teotihuacan”

On my way to the De Young Museum to see the exhibit “Teotihuacan”, cherry trees, fuchsia, and vinca bloomed in the bright and warm sunshine of Golden Gate Park — a welcome change after leaving Vermont in the midst of a chilly snowstorm the day before. And as the day came to an end, a ribbon of hot pink progressing to fiery orange hovered over the thinnest strip of deep blue horizon, lightly resting on the Pacific Ocean like a technicolor meringue. No photo or drawing can compare to being fully in those moments.

Perhaps counterintuitively, I had my back turned to Mokoli’i, a popular scenic spot on the windward side of Oahu, choosing to take this shot of the Ko’olaus instead. The deep furrows in this mountain range remind me of the pleats created in the process of Arashi Shibori.

A couple of days later, we sped along the H3 Highway from the Honolulu airport to Kailua. The lush green of the Ko’olau Mountains, deeply engraved by threads of waterfalls that have trickled down their sides for centuries, paired with the scent of humidity and tropical flora, brought in a sweep of memories formed at a time before iPhones and when I was way too busy with little ones to spend more than a few cursory moments here and there drawing.

The Byodo-In Temple on Oahu is one of the loveliest places I can think of. We visited frequently when we lived on the island, and make a point of going back each time we return. The following photos are all from the temple.

There’s nothing like a full sensory experience for facilitating re-entry into a bubble of remembrance. For whatever reason, the image of a snow globe popped into my head, and it occurred to me that what I was experiencing could be equated to looking into one of those little enclosed worlds while reawakening it with a good shake. Although, like memory, there’s no way to physically (re)enter the environment it confines, an emotional magic resurfaces from somewhere deep within to be felt and enjoyed once again.

Amida Buddha

Which brings me to this: five years ago author Jonathan Safran Foer gave the commencement address at my son’s college graduation. Unlike the speaker at my own commencement — of whose talk I remember exactly zero — Foer’s message has stayed with me. In a nutshell, he was observing that the world can be divided into two camps: archivists, who take full advantage of technology to document life’s both great and small events, and eye-witnesses, who record nothing physically but rather rely on memory alone.

Raked Gravel

Short-lived moments are precious, which dictates the desire to capture them in photos or on video. Yet human memory involves emotion in a more direct way than technology. The point of Foer’s speech was that being more fully present allows us to hold onto our experiences more closely. He wasn’t saying one approach was better than the other, only that striking a balance between the two is perhaps the wisest course.

Koi

I don’t think I could ever give up my camera. And as I have often expressed, the act of drawing allows me to more fully notice and record details that I might otherwise miss, in some ways strengthening a memory of time and place. But it isn’t the same as basking in a fleeting experience without any buffers or intervening devices. This time around I was happy to let go of the tools and to enjoy both the restfulness and the exhilaration of immersing myself in a change of environment without them.

On a Different Note_________________________________________________________________________________________

My mother-in-law has a great eye and a wonderful collection of art books that are always a treat to peruse whenever we visit her. She is often ahead of the curve in ferreting out interesting artists and reading material about them. She requested a subscription to Juxtapoz magazine a while ago, so this trip I had an opportunity to sift through several she has saved. I was very impressed — feeling it has a fresher and less “establishment” approach than ARTnews or other like publications. The interviews of highlighted artists are smart and well-written, going into the depths of practice without being oppressively long. I think you might find it worth checking out.

Partners

The series of shibori-dyed and embroidered pieces I’ve been making for the past year are all tightly connected. Ideas that crop up in the midst of working on one usually find their way to actualization in the next. As such, all the works are related and in many ways companions. Yet these two peonies, the first pieces I’ve completed in 2018, are more tightly paired than all the rest.

Crescendo ©2018 Elizabeth Fram, 14 x 11 in., Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk. This piece is now framed and has been sold to a collector who has very generously agreed to delay shipment until after my upcoming show is finished. Follow the progression of its creation

As interpretations of a couple of sketches made two days apart last July, (note the progression of the blossom opening), they will be viewed side-by-side in my upcoming exhibit Drawing Threads: Conversations Between Line & Stitch. Variations in tone and scale are slight enough to leave no question that they were conceived together, yet subtle differences allow each to carry its own voice.

Pesante ©2018 Elizabeth Fram, 14 x 11 in., Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk. Finding the right title is often challenging. I wanted to find names that would match the feeling of these pieces. The full opening of a peony is glorious, and the word Crescendo perfectly matched the anticipation and build-up to a peony at its peak. Pesante, also a musical term, means “in a heavy manner”. It seems to fit the nature of the flowerhead in this image perfectly.

I dyed the silk for both of them at the same time, but with attention to maintaining some differentiation. Crescendo’s background is deeper and more saturated, begging for the strength and pop of the bold magenta threads. Powerful color allows the stitching to maintain authority amid the surrounding intensity of dye, while also providing a means of grounding the more open and fluttery petals.

The flowerhead of Pesante, heavier and more compact than that of Crescendo, works in tandem with its more muted background dye tones and the dustier colors of thread used to describe it. Its visual weight allows Pesante to hold its own against its showier sister.

Both images explore the same vase and table surface, yet it became apparent that each had to be approached differently…another fruitful learning experience.

These pieces are not a diptych, although they will be displayed together for the duration of the exhibit. They are independent of each other but they are still partners, which reminds me of a line from Kahlil Gibran’s poem On Marriage

“Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.”

On a different note:_________________________________________________________________________________________

It will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me that this book by David Remfry looks absolutely charming. Parka Blogs has more info.

Searching Through Line

There is a light covering of snow on everything today, making the fields look like fresh sheets of paper.

One of the many gifts our dog Quinn has bestowed upon me is being an insistent impetus for stopping whatever else is in the works at 2:30pm to make sure I get outside to enjoy the day. As she runs and sniffs on the new snow, her tracks break through the smooth surface leaving a chaotic trail telling of her excitement as she follows – here, there, and everywhere – the scattered scents of the various critters that share our hill. It reminds me of Bill Keane’s comic strip Family Circus that occasionally displayed a wandering dotted line showing the vast amount of ground covered by 7-year old Billy as he distractedly went from point A to point B.

When I look at my life drawings I see a comparable trail of graphite. The lines are searching and sometimes scattered, marking my numerous attempts to grasp just the right angle or shape while leaving behind a recording of the full experience.

I don’t begrudge myself these explorations because without them I’ll never improve. In fact, it is a similar probing quality that attracts me to master drawings. Unlike a polished rendering, an amended line speaks to the presence of the artist and his journey through his drawing, leaving tracks for the rest of us to follow and to learn from. Needless to say, it’s also reassuring to see that even the best don’t always get it right on the first stab.

Take a look at Charley Parker’s blog Lines and Colors. Not only does it promise a wealth of interesting and far-reaching information, but this post about Whistler’s drypoint etching of Joanna Hiffernan is particularly pertinent to this discussion about a searching line. Even better, the ghost face of a previously begun etching, that Whistler didn’t bother to conceal before starting over with this particular drawing, is a wonderful example of a “map” left behind for the rest of us to discover and to enjoy.

Pulling it all Together

The countdown is on.
This is the first I’ve mentioned it here, but I am in the midst of preparing for a solo show that will run for 6 weeks at the Emile A. Gruppe Gallery starting in late March. It’s exciting to be in the organizational phase of pulling together everything that I have been working on for the past year. Every opportunity I have to show my work reflects the privilege I feel at being able to share my interpretations and insights, and with that comes responsibility.

As you well know, it’s not at all unusual for tendencies toward creativity to be squelched at an early age by rewarding only those who are able to render a realistic likeness or by shaming those who color outside the lines, both literally and figuratively. It’s so important to encourage all young people, as I was fortunate to have been, rather than deterring them in their creative explorations.

Years ago, when volunteering for an art project in my daughter’s second grade class (they were making cornucopia placemats in anticipation of Thanksgiving) I was surprised when her teacher insisted that they paste the cut-out fruits and vegetables in a specific way, and then appalled at witnessing her anger upon discovering some were ad-libbing the prescribed process. This was an art project, for heaven’s sake, to make placemats for their upcoming classroom Thanksgiving party! It was even more upsetting to me when she proceeded to single out one child as “the artist” in the classroom, announcing that that person was completing the project correctly and her example should be followed. How demoralizing! This must surely have sent the message that creativity wasn’t valued and that the artist “slot” had already been filled.

The next month all parents were invited to sign up to come into the same classroom to share a family holiday tradition. Our family used to make gift wrap by stamping craft paper with sponges lightly dipped into acrylic paint, covering the paper with colorful images. I brought in supplies for everyone and we rolled up our sleeves to get to work. It distressed me how many children in that classroom were concerned that they were “doing it right”. In fact, they almost seemed fearful they might make a misstep. Remembering the Thanksgiving placemats, I felt it was my duty to assure them that there was no right or wrong way to make art…that was the beauty of it. I wanted them to hear from another adult that they were fully in charge of their own work; it was meant to be fun. Period.

Which brings me back to responsibility. For those of us who have found our way to spending our time making things and expressing our ideas creatively, I truly feel it is our job to pay close attention to the world around us and then to share what we’ve learned with others via that work. This opens a door not only to connection, but also to varying perspectives. What we make may or may not resonate with anyone else, but it’s important to bring it out into the open. It is powerfully rewarding when someone approaches me to say they have found a personal connection between their own life experience and what they see in my work. As Degas said, “Art is not what you see, but what you make others see”.

My upcoming exhibit will include both Shibori stitched pieces and drawings from my daily sketch practice. The basis is to show how each discipline has influenced the other and to honor the “every day”. These works are not political per se, yet my goal is to highlight that the quiet moments of our lives are just as important as the outwardly momentous ones, and perhaps more so in times of uncertainty and upheaval.

Having decided on a title, I feel I have checked off one of the more challenging preparatory elements of any show (aside from making the work itself). Also, I want to share the many resources that have made this organizational phase much easier to navigate. Alyson Stanfield has a terrific customizable exhibition checklist that is well-worth bookmarking. For more helpful resources, check my posts Behind the Scenes and It’s Not Just About the Art.

In the weeks ahead, as I continue to pull everything together, I expect to return from time to time with other behind-the-scenes aspects of preparation. But in the meantime, I hope you will put Drawing Threads: Conversations Between Line & Stitch on your calendar. It will open March 22, 2018, with an artist reception on Sunday, March 25th.