Category Archives: Gardens

Part 2: Tapestries, Portraits and Gardens – Oh My!

Welcome to Part 2 of my post about Scotland. If you missed Part 1, feel free to jump back to take a look. Today I’m moving on to gardens and other miscellaneous delights.

Strolling through a well-designed garden is, artistically speaking, every bit as rewarding as wandering the galleries of a museum. While inherently different, they are wonderfully similar. Visiting a museum is akin to stepping into a time capsule to witness freeze-frame moments caught in time. But while a garden within an historic setting may bring the past to mind, one is still always conscious that what surrounds us is never still; it is constantly growing and transforming.

✦

Nothing is more the child of art than a garden.” -Sir Walter Scott

Abbotsford, the home (“palace of imagination”) of novelist Sir Walter Scott, is situated on the River Tweed and looks like an illustration from a fairy tale.

Taking in this view, I couldn’t help but think of Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson’s poem The Land of Counterpane. which my mother read to me when I was very young and home sick.

Scott created three successive gardens.

My favorite was the walled kitchen garden which covers an acre and apparently looks much the same as it would have in Scott’s time. It is a mix of flowers and scented plants, herbs, fruits, vegetables.

Separate from the house gardens, there is also a mini-sculpture garden/woods walk on the property. With a name like “Witch Corner”, I couldn’t resist. The chainsaw sculptures are inspired by Scott’s writing.

✦

Dating back to 1372, Glamis Castle was the childhood home of Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother of Elizabeth II. Frankly, I was more interested in the fact that it is said to have been the inspiration for Shakespeare’s Macbeth.

The Italian Garden at Glamis Castle

The two house-shaped allées captured my heart immediately

Having never seen a Himalayan Blue Poppy before, our timing was perfect.

Turrets, blue poppies and a house-shaped allée – definitely not in Kansas (or Vermont) anymore

A garden can claim innumerable artists — botanical wizards who have contributed their personal brushstrokes across years and trends. Unlike Whistler’s Mother who will still be seated stoically in her black dress and lace cap next year and next century, the garden you wander through today will be different from that of yesterday, tomorrow, or any other day – ever.

✦

Branklyn Garden in Perthshire is a 2 acre hillside garden, created in 1922 using seeds collected by plant hunters. It is now overseen by the National Trust for Scotland.

I took lots of photos but this one, with that central red rib in the midst of all the different shades of green, is the one I find most inspiring.

Other than hoping to avoid crowds and midges, we had no particular goals or expectations of Scottish gardens in early May. But luck was with us. Those we visited were much farther along than anticipated, offering bursts of color for winter-weary eyes.

✦

Drummond Castle Garden is a horse of a completely different color.

The sculpted trees and variety of foliage are spectacular – even at this early point in the season.

The shapes and shadows made me feel as though I’d been dropped into Alice in Wonderland

The variety of foliage colors hold their own – no blooms necessary

The lean of some of the trees made them seem on the verge of coming to life in a Disney-esque sort of way. So while on the one hand this was a very serious garden, it also comes across with a lovely sense of humor.

This short video shows the grandeur far better than I can.

✦

Jupiter Artland is a sprawling sculpture garden that also includes a couple of indoor exhibition spaces. It is magnificent, with trails that wind through woods, across fields and by beautiful water features.

Stone Coppice, Andy Goldsworthy

Bonnington House (in the distance) is a private home situated in the center of Jupiter Artland. Such hedges!

Cells of Life, Charles Jenks. Magical terraced earthworks embedded with paths allowing one to climb to the top for an expansive view.

Weeping Girls, Laura Ford. Figures hand carved from waxes. Cast in found objects. Patinated and painted bronze. This was one figure among a series of girls, all of whom projected a mysterious and melancholic aura to the grove of trees where they were strategically placed. Don’t we all have days like this?

✦

And then a couple of miscellaneous gardens…

National Heather Collection at the Rodney Gardens Park in Perth

The King’s Knot at Stirling Castle was constructed for Charles I between 1627-9. It is covered in grass now, but it was originally designed as an ornamental garden.

✦

And finally, I leave you with the “Oh My!” These are a few of the things that don’t fit neatly into any category, but are pure visual enjoyment – seeds, even, for possible future work.

Before we left I had read about these two gravestones, unique in their elaborate depiction of Adam and Eve. It became something of a scavenger hunt to find them, but it was definitely worth the search.

Loved the sign, loved even more the colors of stone in this building near Edinburgh Castle

These textured house shapes surrounding a doorway in Edinburgh Castle caught my eye immediately.

The Kelpies, Designed by Andy Scott. These massive horse heads, built of steel, refer to the shape shifting water-horses of Scottish folklore.

Finally, I always research art supply stores before any trip. It’s hard to beat the charming exterior of this one, where I found some khadi paper that easily fit in my carry-on and is now waiting in the wings for future paint and stitch.

✦

Now, it’s back to Vermont.
I’m very much looking forward to the opening of Full Bloom on Saturday!
If you’re around, please join me at The Satellite Gallery, 71 Depot Street, Lyndonville, VT for the opening from 5-7pm. The show will be up thorough the 4th of July weekend.

The gallery director sent me this photo after she’d hung the show. I’m thrilled that she decided to include several of my “Sheltering in Place” houses as well.

The Other 50%

Some weeks I feel like a jack of all trades.
While painting, drawing & hand-stitching may be the face of what goes on here, plenty of other, behind-the-scenes activities are just as integral to keeping everything steaming along.

These past weeks I’ve been preparing for an upcoming solo show that will run throughout the month of June. My stitched paintings of elder women — 2-1/2 years of work — will be seen all together in one venue. I hope you’ll join me for the Opening Party on June 7th!

Framing

Meanwhile, lots of unsung chores surrounding the show are keeping me busy. I’ve been cutting mats & framing the remainder of the 19 pieces that will make up the exhibit while getting the associated paperwork and computer records in order. I’ve designed an announcement/invitation and have begun promotional outreach. Leading up to this point, I’ve spent hours writing artist statements, proposals, follow-ups and, as you may remember, assorted blog posts sharing the process of each piece over the past couple of years.

There is a general wisdom that artists only spend about 50% of their time actually making art; the rest is devoted to business, which is just as demanding. How very true.

With this in mind, please note that I am going to take a short break in early May. Look for my next post in 4 weeks, on May 22nd.

Invitation / Announcement

✷

If you’re looking for a diversion, Austin Kleon’s Substack post this week is filled with all sorts of art-y goodness. It’s been a treat to slowly chip away at his links during my breaks. Each is a source of inspiration in its own way, especially “Art Thief: Lessons from Wayne Thiebaud”. But if you only have time for one thing and are looking for a sense of connection across time, and/or a source of hope, remember gardens and read Kleon’s 2017 post “Planting Iris”.
Planting season has arrived, time to get to it!

Montreal Melange

The closest “big city” to central Vermont is Montreal which, at only 2-1/4 hours away, is a virtual stone’s-throw and perfect for a get-away. We spent a couple of days and nights there earlier this month taking in some delicious meals, live jazz and plenty of fresh visual inspiration.

de Fil et De Papier signage

Most exciting was a visit to the current exhibition at MUMAQ – The Musée des Métiers d’Art du Québec (Québec Museum of Crafts). De Fin et De Papier (Thread and Paper) is an invitational show, curated by paper artist Marie-José Gustave; it includes the work of 8 artists, as well as her own.

One of the things I most appreciated about the museum itself is that everything is accessible and easy to see, often from several angles. And unlike the permanent collection, the work in De Fin et De Papier is not behind glass so it can be viewed closely enough to study the processes and workmanship of each delightful piece in minute detail.

Lâcher Prise, detail, Nithikul Nimkulrat. So wonderful to recognize the macrame knots we used to use to make plant hangers a million years ago reappearing to such beautiful effect in Nimkulrat’s etherial dresses

Ann Boscher’s work was by far my favorite in the show. I haven’t ever seen stitching on paper used to such effect…wonderful!

If you go, be sure to allow time to take in the permanent collection as well. There are wonderful examples of work made by numerous generations of Québequois fine craft and folk artists – in glass, ceramic, silver, wood-carving, textiles and more.

The museum building was formerly a new-Gothic church that had been dismantled stone by stone and then rebuilt at its current location when the land it originally sat upon was expropriated by the Canadian National Railway to make way for a new station. The building and collection together are a virtual treasure box.

We also visited the Montreal Botanical Garden. I realize it’s a bit ironic leaving rural Vermont, heading to the city and then spending a chunk of time wandering through gardens, but that’s who we are. In fact, because we covered so much ground across town this trip, I became more cognizant of how much care the city planners of Montreal have put into being sure to incorporate green space throughout their city.

If you’ve been before you’ll know the Botanical Garden is a stunner. But what struck me most this visit, despite the flagging fall blooms, was the thoughtful and diverse color combinations that are still vibrant. It would be lovely to spend an afternoon with a sketchbook making notes of the unexpected color blends for future reference.

Finally, Montreal is rich with public art.
Intrigued before our trip by reading about the Canadian Centre for Architecture Sculpture Garden, (designed by Montreal artist-architect Melvin Charney), I was anxious to see and walk among the (relatively) miniature buildings raised on columns. Surrounded by a lovely green space, the sculpture section of the park is compact and doesn’t take much time view.

Melvin Charney

The lasting impression is a lovely sense of harmony between its elevated art structures, sitting in a conversation of sorts with the neighboring high-rises. One doesn’t feel a giant amongst these small buildings, but because of them, nor does one feel dwarfed by the height of nearby towers.

Melvin Charney, Canadian Centre for Architecture Sculpture Garden

✷

I just watched “Grab a Hunk of Lightening“, a terrific documentary about photographer Dorothea Lange, via the Architecture + Design film series. It was a one-day event, but you can stream the film through Amazon, Apple TV or Google Play Movies for $2.99. For those who aren’t familiar with much of Lange’s work beyond her photographs of migrant workers during the depression, you are in for a treat.

Garden Brain

“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”
― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

We’re back from nine days visiting family in CA & HI, and as I look over my photos, notes and sketches from the trip I can see that, subconsciously or not, plants and gardens took center stage. Part of that has to be because once the snow melts and May arrives, we all become a bit garden-obsessed due to Vermont’s short growing season.

The lush arboreal view of many colors, outside our aerie-like airbnb window in Berkeley

Our local hardiness zone is 5 (up from 4, due to climate change). But in Berkeley, CA it’s 10a, and Kailua, HI is an even more exotic 12b. Needless to say, the flora in both locales was a welcome sight and inspiration for winter-weary Northeastern eyes.

Here’s a bit of plant kingdom goodness I brought back to share with you:

The colors, shapes and textures at The Dry Garden on Shattuck Ave in Oakland were swoon-worthy

They also had a selection of hand-made tiles that, but for the fact that I was limited to carry-on, one or two would have found their way home with me. Apologies to the artist for not getting a name to credit.

I follow @gollyokate on Instagram because I love her perspective on embroidery, libraries and her quirky discoveries on walks through her Oakland, CA neighborhood. What a delight to feel I was stepping into her world (albeit up the street a bit) while rambling one morning, enjoying the street-side gardens in Berkeley. This one’s for you Kate!

And just a bit later, the sun came out over a different viewpoint. Such color inspiration — look at those incredible purple spikes, offset by the gold of the grass – all framing an azure sky over Tomales Bay.

The sculpture garden of Oahu’s Capitol Modern (formerly the Hawai’i State Art Museum) is a quiet retreat in the heart of Honolulu. This museum exhibits the work of contemporary Hawaiian artists both inside and outside the building. Considering the theme of this post, I’ll stick with its courtyard sculpture display.

Gaea (Mother Earth), detail, Bumpei Akaji, 1984, Copper Many of the pieces not only sat in the garden, but referenced nature as well. The curves of Akaji’s piece frame a view to the central lawn area.

The smooth, hard surfaces and rounded forms of pieces like Gaea, above, and Ceramic Tree, below, create an apt counterpoint for their organic setting.

Ceramic Tree, Toshiko Takaezu, 1990 Handbuilt ceramic, This work was inspired by trees that had been damaged by lava on the Big Island.

However, it was the humor of “Mr. Chickenpants” and the dogs of “Jax Bench” which stole my heart.

Mr. Chickenpants, May Izumi, 2018, Bronze

Mr. Chickenpants

Jax Bench, Fred Roster, 1990, Bronze

The Honolulu Museum of Art’s treasures reflect the rich multi-cultural make-up of the islands. Its architectural design, including lush open-to-the-sky interior courtyards and restaurant garden, are an ever-present reminder of the connection between art and nature.

Bark Cloth-Style Aloha Shirt, Tori Richard, 1960 Our visit coincided with “Fashioning Aloha”, an exhibit of aloha wear from the 1930s onward. This shirt was inspired by the traditional Polynesian practice and geometric designs of Pacific tapa (bark cloth), a non-woven textile made by pounding the inner bark of the paper mulberry tree into sheets, then decorated with designs.

Spring to Summer, Kanō Kōi, Edo period (1615-1868), Ink, color and gold on paper

This lovely pair of six-panel screens were created by Japanese artist Kanō Kōi (died 1636) who produced paintings for elite samurai at a time when they were seeking to revive the courtly grace and refinement of the Heian period (794-1185). It’s hard for me to think of anything more refined than a Japanese garden.

Late Summer to Autumn, Kanō Kōi, Edo period (1615-1868), Ink, color and gold on paper

While not technically garden-oriented, I can’t help but include this amazing piece by Noah Harders, made from fruits of the sea.

Looks Can Be Deceiving, Noah Harder, 2022, Ola, Hawaiian Spiny Lobster. Harders makes intricate sculptural masks and headdresses from found or gifted organic materials, reflecting his deep ties to the environment of Maui.

Looks Can Be Deceiving, detail

Finally, my artist mother-in-law has a wonderful art library and she never fails to introduce me to exciting global creators of all stripes. This visit it was the work of the Brazilian landscape architect Roberto Burle Marx (1909-1994) who was known as a modern nature artist and public urban space designer. Lots of inspiration for our humble garden here at home.

Roberto Burle Marx book

While it rained every day of our Hawaiian visit, it didn’t dampen our spirits since we used to live in Kailua and have logged our share of sunny days there. And the upside was the inclement weather allowed more time for museums, art supply stores and sketching.

I had a nice little studio set-up to work from most days.

We finally made it to the beach one day for a walk. It was grey and cloudy so the palette I used was definitely different from what I’d expected, but no worries, I still had exactly what I needed.

The little sketchbook I made beforehand worked out beautifully. It offered plenty of space for drawing and notes (24 “pages”, using both sides), yet it folded down to fit compactly in my small travel purse. I will definitely make another for next time.

Sketchbook

And now it’s back to my own patch of earth to tend and nurture. Here’s to a wonderful garden season ahead for all of us.

❖

On another note:
One link leads to another….can’t remember how I ended up here, but thought you too might enjoy this article about sitting for Alice Neel in Katy Hessel’s Substack The Great Women Artists.

A Thick Slice of Cake

If you’ve subscribed to my periodic newsletters, then you will already know that my latest Full Bloom portrait is finished.

This one was a challenge for several reasons: the glasses, the full-face angle and the need to subdue any competition between the model’s subtle skin tones and silver-ish hair vs her colorful clothes. That said, I’m very happy with the results — especially the way the subject and the stitched background ended up working, both independently and together.

Measured Response in process

After roughly drafting in the head, I sat with it for several days. There was a quality about it that, although incomplete, seemed to have a lot to say in a ghostly, disembodied sort of way. This is a great example of a point in the process when ideas start to flow for possibilities in future work.

Measured Response Watercolor Embroidery Stitching

Measured Response, detail

What was it about this particular image that made me hesitate in moving forward? Was it the straight-on stare speaking volumes on its own? Or perhaps simply that I tend to be drawn to art where elements of the underpainting/drawing remain visible? I find a sense of poetry in work where the hand and thought processes of the artist are laid bare.

Plus, backgrounds are a bit of – I wouldn’t exactly say nemesis, but definitely a puzzle for me, requiring another level of consideration because of the stitching. I want to create more than a mere backdrop, yet avoid having the piece appear overworked.

Measured Response Angle Watercolor Embroidery

There’s nothing like an angle shot for bringing out the texture of the stitching

In the end, I placed her head firmly on her shoulders, integrating her within space – although admittedly somewhat nebulous space. By pushing the color and pattern of the stitching while keeping it relatively sparse, I was able to hold onto the qualities that had stopped me in the middle, yet reach a satisfactory and full resolution. And, trite though it is to say, ultimately finding a way to have my cake and eat it too.

❖

While some of you live where your gardens are already coming back to life, those of us in Northern New England have a while yet to wait. But we can dream and plan. Here are a couple of ideas if you too are ready to get back to your plot of earth, but it’s not quite ready for you.

First, a shout-out to my mother-in-law who recently recommended Monty Don’s 3 episode series Adriatic Gardens on Amazon Prime or Acorn TV…it’s wonderful, so check it out.

Alice Fox Wild Textiles Book

And secondly, during the Surface Design Association conference in late January, UK artist Alice Fox spoke inspiringly about her practice using natural processes with found, gathered and grown materials. She made me long to collect the spent daffodil, iris and garlic leaves from my own garden to start creating with them. Granted, it will be a while before that can happen, but in the meantime I purchased a copy of her book Wild Textiles to learn more and to start the creative juices flowing while there’s still snow on the ground.

Summer Sampling

5-6 months out of the year our yard looks like some version of this.

Winter

So is it any wonder that when June rolls around, I can’t get enough of it looking like this?!

June 1

I am drunk with color these days.

June 2

It’s been a fun exercise this week to create color mixes that mimic what’s in bloom right now. This type of sampling helps me to understand color more generally, and my chosen palette more specifically.

June Colors 1

For those who, pardon the pun, like to get into the weeds of such things, I was a bit surprised at how many colors I used: 27 separate colors in making 28 samples of flowers, leaves and paving stones. To some degree, that feels very over the top and, considering 8 of those colors were only used in one color mix, there is definitely room to fine-tune if I were so inclined.

June Colors 2

Overall though, most of the colors I used got a pretty good workout, recurring in many of the mixes – most of which were made up of two and very occasionally three paints. The exception was the paving stones. They all required various combinations of three primaries to achieve their neutral tones.

These colors are the backbone of my mixes. The biggest surprise for me is how versatile (and “popular”) the Cobalt Blue Deep turned out to be.

I find it really handy to have color-mix samples like this for reference, so I keep a book full of them that I refer to regularly. I try to make time when I buy a new paint color to play around with it to see how it interacts old favorites.

Without question, if you live in Northern New England life is better if you actually enjoy the subtle hues of late November into deepest winter. But let’s face it, it’ll be nice to return to these samples when the garden is asleep again, as a reminder of the eye-popping abundance of June.

✷

Since we’re talking color… Have you been to the Vermont Arts Council Sculpture Garden in Montpelier to see the collaborative installation Elements of Shelter: Water, Fire, Wood, Earth, Metal? Spearheaded by Thea Alvin and Meg Reinhold, it’s a beautiful meditation on two of Vermont’s most immediate challenges: climate change and the housing crisis. The combination of paint with glass is particularly effective; the work absolutely glows in the sunshine. Plus, the craftsmanship of the pieces, including their timber frames, is gorgeous.
Read further about the installation and its creators in Seven Days. You can follow more of the creation process on Instagram: @theasunshine and @trilliumhandcrafts

Potluck

The past several weeks have been a bit of a smorgasbord of projects. Through them all, I can’t help but think I’ve been subconsciously influenced by our reawakened garden which, especially during this glorious month of June, has visually been like a rich shot of espresso after months of presenting as the equivalent of a weak cup of chamomile tea.

©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye on silk A thank you gift for @gollyokate, whose Catch-and-Release Program contributed, via her art, to feeding hungry families, maintaining community safety nets and helping the planet.

Now that our show Tucked In: Resilience in Small Moments is closing at the Gruppe Gallery on the 19th (there’s still time to visit this weekend if you haven’t already!), I can move beyond the writing and back-end administrative duties associated with it to dip into a bit of artistic free-styling.

In process ©2022 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk This avian fellow was originally meant to be a chickadee, but took a turn toward a more vivid imaginary specimen after reading The Feather Thief and as color returned to our yard.

I look at our beloved perennials bursting back to life, each day’s view a bit different from the one before as they grow and bloom in a constant state of evolution, and I’m inspired. I think I’ll try to relax into that frame of mind in the studio for the next couple of months and see where it leads me.

Front Garden

Testing, 1-2-3

The thing about Shibori is it can be both mentally invigorating and relaxing, often at the same time. I’ve been looking forward to this week’s work, knowing I’d have the stimulation of a puzzle paired with the soothing calm of stitching row upon repetitive row of running stitches.

Quick notations capture possibilities and remind me of fleeting ideas

In teasing out an approach for the dyed background of my “letters from home”, I’ve thought of plenty of possibilities. The overall goal is to find an idea that is generally repeatable, yet with enough elbow room for variations that will allow each piece to hold its own among the others in the series.

I keep even the smallest amounts of dye on hand so that I can make mini-samples on the fly. For the process of Ori-nui, the cloth is folded and stitches are made parallel and close to the fold. It’s a good way to achieve definition. I felt the stitches I’d made in this sample were too far from the fold, so I adjusted that distance in my final, full-scale sample.

I also have to keep in mind how the embroidery-to-be will fit, so that it doesn’t become lost against the color and pattern of its dyed background.

Once I get to the stage of sewing the resist stitching, I can settle in and relax. Where to stitch, what direction those stitches will take, and where the knots will be placed have all been decided. So there’s nothing to do at this point but listen to a book or podcast and get to work.

It’s all well and good to jot down options in a sketchbook, but it isn’t until the needle actually pierces the cloth that reality sets in and decisions/questions begin to crop up in earnest. Should the striations of pattern all go in the same direction – or perhaps oppose each other? How best to keep a crisp line between areas of pattern and open spaces of dye? Can I balance those two while keeping in mind that the third crucial element of the embroidered imagery will be added later?

With the stitching complete, the fabric is ready to soak and then all the threads will have to be drawn up tightly and knotted before beginning the dye process.

An example of the many things to think about: an often overlooked characteristic of Mokume stitching is that even the point where one chooses to begin a row of stitching can impact the final appearance. I am quite fond of the little white dots left un-dyed by the knots at the end of my stitching thread, so I try to work out ways to incorporate them that will enhance the piece without distraction. It’s worth noting that beyond contributing added visual “zip” for those who look closely, those tiny spots are also a reminder that this process is very much hand-made.

Admittedly they are very subtle, but I think the marks left by the knots at the end of my thread elevate the pattern as a whole, so I try not to hide them if possible.

Last but not least, at this early stage everything must be worked within a pre-determined finished size to accommodate framing.
So yes, lots to think about and I have my work cut out for me. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And there you have it – the finished, dyed piece. The dye came out a bit like the Northern Lights, don’t you think?

If I go with a 12 x 12 inch final dimension as originally planned, this is about where it’ll end up.

✷

Most of our fall yard chores are now complete, crowned, as always, by the all-important planting and securing of the garlic under its snug winter cover of leaves and burlap.
Time to get ready for garden dreaming in hibernation season by turning to books. After reading the article I mentioned in my last post, I picked up David Culp’s The Layered Garden from the library for his ideas on how to bridge the seasons in your garden. My favorite example of this idea is Jack Lenor Larsen’s Red Garden at the Longhouse Reserve.

I have a beautiful red twig dogwood and tend to leave areas of echinacea and bee balm for visual interest against the snow (and any late foraging birds). But I wonder what other ideas Culp might have. I was rewarded this morning, waking up to a frosted landscape that reminded me just how lovely every season can be.

Frost

Breathing Deeply

Working on the stitched watercolor garden pieces this summer has been just the break I had hoped for while simultaneously opening the door to new explorations. It’s been like taking a deep breath. There’s nothing quite as fun (or as good a stretch for the brain) as pushing toward some sort of new evolution and seeing where those explorations might lead.

Rounding the Bend ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and stitching on paper, 5 x 5 inches. I haven’t posted new pieces from this series since the beginning of July. Time to catch you up! You can revisit all the pieces on my website.

Coincidentally, in catching up on older podcasts, I recently listened to Alice Sheridan and Louise Fletcher of Art Juice talk about “Kickstarting Creativity by Taking a Break”. That doesn’t necessarily mean taking a rest from making art altogether (although it could), but rather creating an interruption by switching gears to something different.

Having now returned from their month-long respite, it’s worth listening to their follow-up episode, “A Time for Reflection”, as they discuss some of their realizations from their time away.

It’s an honest conversation about an artist’s life, dipping into elements and responses that are familiar to all of us.

For my part, I’m grateful for the sense of camaraderie that comes when others share about issues we may have in common. At the end of the day we’re all just trying to make a go of a creative life – why not travel together?

In considering my own, shall we say, intermission from the work of last year, not only has the painting itself been equal parts challenging and rewarding, but the incorporation of the embroidered houses has provided a welcome sense of grounding and continuity while still allowing me to find new ways to play around with the idea of something “hidden in plain sight”.

I’ve completed a dozen of these little stitched paintings to date and expect to keep going in some form or another. I took a first stab at what moving beyond the “safety” of the houses might look like in this little close-up of my daughter’s Maranta leuconeura. The question that is floating around in the back of my head now is how might I let the stitching on paper branch into portraits.

Basically, texture is at the root of my interest. It’s the textural effects of the stitching, together with the visual texture of the paint on paper, that most intrigues me.
Meanwhile, I’ve begun a new shibori piece and expect to be back at my frame embroidering on cloth in earnest, just as soon as the dyeing is complete.

Marking Time

If there’s such a thing as visual euphoria, it’s the garden coming back to life again in all its glorious colors and textures. The early season vibrance of azaleas is beyond stunning after a long Vermont winter.

For those who have followed me faithfully here, you will recognize color as a recurrent early summer theme. How could it not be? With the lupines now out and irises just beginning to pop, I am reminded of this post from a couple of years ago, exalting a landscape immersed in purple and blue – my favorite.

Lately I’ve been noticing that the variety of greens on the hills and mountains that surround us are more vivid than ever. As summer wears on, the leaves will mature, becoming increasingly monochromatic, but for now their wide spectrum from warm to cool, offset by scattered reds and pinks, is pure visual pleasure. The sight is a post-winter reward.

May 18, First Color ©2021 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and stitch on paper, 5 x 5 inches. I have been meaning to get back to watercolor for ages. This is a rusty first stab after a long break but, as with everything, practice is all. It’s such a pleasurable activity; time just melts away in pools of color.

Digging deeper, it is the constant change of the seasons upon a set structure (mountain) or template (garden) that I find endlessly interesting.

May 18, detail ©2021 Elizabeth Fram One can only learn by doing. By matching the colors of thread in the stitched house so closely to those of the paint below, I think the image melts just a bit too much into the background. The aim was to have it be like a good conversationalist, holding its own without either monopolizing or fading into obscurity. The results seem to lean more toward the latter the further you get from the piece. But maybe that’s good? An unexpected surprise upon close inspection?

With that in mind, I’m beginning a new project this summer, both as a break from months steeped in COVID-centric houses (although I haven’t released the house shape yet), and also as a creative stretch. I’m looking to combine paint with stitch, and what better inspiration could one ask for than the ever-evolving flora that has suddenly taken center stage once again?

The painting before stitching; the marks that outline the house are visible underneath the painting.

The core idea I am grappling to articulate relates to structure, within the garden or even, perhaps, in the larger landscape. Inspired generally by Piet Oudolf (designer of Manhattan’s High Line and Chicago’s Lurie Garden in Millennium Park) and particularly by the Red Garden designed by Jack Lenor Larsen at his LongHouse Reserve, I am thinking about constancy amid change – and even the constancy of change. I don’t quite know yet how this will pan out, you are seeing my very first steps. There are bound to be lots of stops and starts as I figure out where I’m headed, but for now it’s enough to embark on something fresh.

And since I’ve brought you into a garden headspace, here’s another resource, especially if you’re out and about in the area:
Elizabeth Billings is currently doing an artist residency at three of the Nature Conservancy’s natural areas in Vermont. She is creating intentional contemplative spaces under the title “Together: Nature Unites Us”. She has been posting about it on Instagram.

✷

Summer reading:

Oudolf Hummelo – A Journey Through A Plantsman’s Life