Category Archives: Process

Committing to a “Process of Search”

I recently finished Creative Authenticity, the Ian Roberts book I recommended in this post several weeks ago. Because each essay has a fair amount to digest, I’ve been reading one section at a time, letting the ideas simmer a bit before moving on to the next. In a later section he discusses creativity in relation the to “process of search”. Reading Roberts’ thoughts now couldn’t be more timely or welcome because they relate directly to what’s going on in my studio this summer.

Who knows what ideas may crop up as you go about your regular chores. Each year I have to work really hard to be sure I don’t miss any of the sugar snap peas in my garden. Since they’re the exact same color as their leaves, and because I have them planted so densely, it’s a challenge to be sure I get them all while they’re still young and tender.

Commenting on the importance of commitment (to your concept), Roberts highlights a differentiation between merely thinking through ideas internally and actually beginning the outward process of manifesting them physically. Tackling problems within our minds allows us to move through a host of possibilities that might conceivably lead us to where we think we want to take the work, but without jumping in and committing through action, we’ll never know for sure whether any of those ideas might truly bear fruit, or if they were mostly illusion.

©2018 Elizabeth Fram While talking with a couple of artist friends, it suddenly occurred to me that if I switched my approach, embroidering an image on fabric before creating the stitched-resist pattern, the silk thread would absorb the dye, and the two would become one.

Roberts says, ” We have to realize that in our art, we need to go through the same process of search, with all the same kinds of dead ends and idiotic attempts that go on privately inside our mind throughout the day. …Avenues need to be explored, ideas tested. And like our thinking processes, most don’t work. Some are clearly ridiculous. But when we’re thinking, no one, not even ourselves, “sees” the results. …When we paint, it’s out there in front of us, graphic, black and white, or perhaps in full color. If it isn’t working, it will be oh so obvious”.

Espresso & Peanut Butter ©2018 Elizabeth Fram, Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk. From this angle the sheen of the silk thread picks up the light really well and the image comes through clearly.

By moving beyond our heads and committing to the physical process, we begin to see whether the ideas that seemed so brilliant in the privacy of our brains have any actual merit. And even more importantly, the unexpected will inevitably crop up to inform and direct the work even further, which leads to branches of exploration and discovery above and beyond what we could have dreamed. Roberts calls this “process thinking vs product thinking”, encouraging readers to concentrate less on the finished product and to relax into the process of arriving at it, focusing on the benefits of the discoveries that occur along the way.

But as you can see (or rather can’t see) from this straight-on shot, the image becomes lost. In the next attempt I will try stitching more densely, playing with the direction of the stitches. In addition, I need to make some further calculation so that the placement and size of the image is correct within the pattern. In other words, I still have plenty of “process thinking” in front of me.

It’s a perspective that takes the sting of frustration out of the necessary time and missteps that lead to success. And who wouldn’t welcome that?

Welcoming Possibility

In 2012 I made a series of pieces that incorporated synthetic bulk tea packaging as their primary “fabric”. The bags were cut, collaged together with snippets of silk, and then heavily embroidered. Looking at those pieces now I still find the effect of the bags’ crinkled matte black and metallic-printed surfaces, offset by the seemingly more organic resist-dyed silk and fields of hand-stitching, creates a visually enjoyable textural combination.

I noted in my statement for that series that it had been strongly influenced by growing up among family members who were often quite ingenious at repurposing worn-out everyday objects so they could serve a second life beyond their originally intended use. It’s a mindset that encourages one to look at materials with a sense of possibility.

Thinking somewhat along the same lines, haven’t we all experienced an unplanned “accident” (i.e. potential disaster), when something goes awry mid-process — like an errant splotch of paint or a tear in the silk when the the seam-ripper slips? I count it a successful day when I can come up with a way to switch gears with a solution that not only makes the work even more effective than originally planned, but which fits the piece well enough that it appears to be a choice I intended all along.

Detail 1

In that light, you won’t be surprised that I was inspired and amused by these 15 examples of artists creating a fix that makes their results so much more engaging than the unmodified original.

Detail 2

This is why I never plan too far ahead in my process; doing so tends to be a sure recipe for frustration. Being open to possibilities has led to results that are often more successful than I could have planned ahead of time, and I’ve discovered that the process of working through unanticipated issues is far more rewarding than going from start to finish without any snags.
How about you? Can you relate?

Hearthstone Anecdote We moved into our house when there were still a fair amount of details left to complete. One of the many things on that to-do list was finishing our fireplace and laying down the hearthstone. Choosing a beautiful piece of soapstone for it’s color and pattern, I felt especially lucky that the stone seller had just enough left for what we needed. The day it was due to be laid in place, our builders were cutting it to size on our front deck. Suddenly there was a noticeable quiet and their heads were tightly grouped together in discussion. It was obvious from the uncharacteristic whispering that something must be seriously wrong. It turns out the stone had broken in half and, knowing it couldn’t easily be replaced, they were mortified. This is one instance when I truly believe all the practice with studio disasters was a saving grace. That and the fact that not too long before I had read about the Japanese art of kintsugi. With a bit of research and the benefit of local artisans who generously shared their knowledge of metals, we were able to join the two halves with bronze (really a bronze powder stirred into a fixative that allowed it to flow in place without heat), resulting a lovely metallic vein that makes for a one-of-a-kind hearthstone that I think is far more beautiful and interesting than it would have been without the unexpected snafu. Plus, it’s become one of my favorite memories of our house-building process.

Are You a Cezanne or a Picasso?

During Season1, Episode 7 of his Revisionist History podcast, Malcolm Gladwell discusses an interesting theory about the way that artists produce work. For some, ideas tend to materialize instantaneously, practically fully-formed. Their work succeeds when the artist is very young, and they often remark that it flowed out from them as though it was just “there” — ripe for the picking. Others labor over their art for years, needing time and space to make the many, many finely-tuned adjustments that eventually bring it to the point where they can comfortably say it is complete.

I figure it took me around 10 hours to complete all this pre-dye stitching. If you’re wondering how I have time to listen to all the podcasts I recommend, now you know.

The idea behind this theory originated with David Galenson, a University of Chicago economist who posited that there are two completely different camps of art-makers. The first group, the Conceptual Innovators, are youthful stand-outs. They create quickly, with easy articulation, achieving revolutionary breakthroughs from an early age. Picasso is a prime example.

The stitching becomes obvious once the piece is dyed.

The second group Galenson identifies as Creative Innovators. These artists often take years to develop their work through arduous trial and error, never having a clear-cut trajectory in their efforts to figure out what exactly they want to say. They tend to never be satisfied as they work their way through endless drafts. He tags Cezanne as illustrating this category of artist.

I made an effort to saturate one side with deeper color than the other, hoping for some interesting variations.

Galenson points out that this theory isn’t unique to the visual arts, and it is fascinating to note icons who easily fall within one of the two categories. Conceptual Innovators include Herman Melville who wrote Moby Dick in his early 30s, Orson Welles who made Citizen Kane when he was 26, and Lorde, whose musical prowess in her teens earned her a spot as the youngest person on Forbes’ 2014 “30 under 30” list of “young people who are changing our world”. He cites Mark Twain and Alfred Hitchcock as two Creative Innovators who didn’t reach a peak until they were in their 50s.

©2018 Elizabeth Fram , 28 x 28 inches, Stitched-resist dye on Silk All told, it only took about two hours to dye and carefully pick out all the stitching. I absolutely love this part of the process because it’s always so exciting as the details are revealed – and you can’t know until the very end how the overall piece with appear.

The majority of Gladwell’s podcast centers on the layers of exploration and experimentation laid out in the writing of two songs, one by Elvis Costello and the other by Leonard Cohen. I found it fascinating to learn the specifics of the years of reworking and painstaking evolution required by each. If you have a soft spot for Cohen’s iconic song Hallelujah, which took more than 15 years (with contributions by other musical artists) to achieve the level of recognition that came with the late Jeff Buckley’s beautiful version, that in itself will make the 40 minute podcast worth your time.

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If you’re interested in this subject, I’ve discovered that Galenson has written a book: Old Masters and Young Geniuses: The Two Life Cycles of Artistic Creativity.

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.

Out of the Studio, Into the Studio

I am at the Vermont Studio Center’s Vermont Artists Week this week. What a privilege!
Who knows what I may be up to when you read this, but it will definitely involve thread, dye and silk…with hopefully some unexpected results. We’ll see.

Coffee Table 1 ©Elizabeth Fram, 8.5 x 11 inches, Ink on Paper

That said, I prepared this post before leaving, which is why it’s so brief.
I’m reaching back into my sketchbook archives from January because these end-of-day sketches of the disarray on our coffee table seem to best (& humorously) illustrate the general state of my brain as I was getting organized before leaving.

Coffee Table 2 ©Elizabeth Fram, 11 x 8.5 inches, Ink on Paper

This Sunday, May 6 from 2-5pm, will be Vermont Artists Week Open Studios. Details are in the link. Everyone is welcome, so please come to the Studio Center in Johnson to see the work that was created during this past week by the more than 50 artists and writers attending.
Hope to see you then!

10 Days of Stitches

It’s been nice to get back to stitching again after being out of the studio for 10 days and then becoming immersed in computer work in preparation for Drawing Threads at the Gruppe Gallery.

I find that taking pictures mid-process, often at the end of each day, gives me just enough distance to plan out what I’m going to tackle next, while marking the evolution of a piece for later reference.

Water-soluble pen marks on raw silk give me the guidelines I need for adding the stitches which will create the Shibori pattern once the fabric is dyed.

Surprises always occur during the dye process

It’s worth checking out the “wrong” side to see if that might be a better option. I opted for the deeper colors of the “front” in this piece, but it’s still fun to see the strength of the blue on the back-side.

Outlining with stitches of a middle value give me a basic structure to work from. Often, as the piece progresses I’ll stitch over those lines with a color/value that is better for bringing out the form. If you look closely you can see the white lines that are my guide. After reading Michelle Kingdom’s interview on textileartist.org, I learned about graphite paper as a means of getting your initial drawing on cloth. It gives a much cleaner line than the water-soluble pen I had been using.

This is the product that I’ve been using to create my initial outline. I chose white so it would show up on a dark background, but it is available in other colors. While Michelle Kingdom mentioned that the graphite paper she uses is permanent, the lines created by this paper are not. I have to think ahead and be careful not to touch the lined area because it will rub off so easily…both good and bad.

With the deeply dyed background, my images are often a mix of positive and negative. Here, white stands in for what would be a black line if I were drawing on white paper.

I’m fond of the textural effect of the stitches that curl along Quinn’s back, making for a suggestion of fur without being literal.

Stitching her bed opens up an opportunity to play with shapes and textural effects, adding an abstracted element while working in tandem with the pattern of the shibori and the more realistic depiction of Quinn.

Finishing stitches at the end can be tiny additions that subtly affect the whole. These details are time-consuming but one of my favorite parts of the process.

Speaking of details: There was something about her back that was bothering me. It can be a huge breakthrough once you figure out what needs to change, and often it’s just a minor tweak. I removed the 4 stitches that I’ve circled in red – as you will see in the next picture – and it made all the difference.

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All this time spent stitching provides a great opportunity for listening. Not too long ago, my friend and mixed-media/knitting sculptor Eve Jacobs-Carnahan recommended listening to an episode about El Anatsui’s 2009 piece “Black River” on The Lonely Palette podcast. If you are interested in Anatsui’s work, I’m sure you will also find the 23 minutes well spent. Since then, I’ve been catching up on all the Lonely Palette episodes — each discusses one piece from the Boston MFA collection in detail. Host Tamar Avishai dusts off art history, giving listeners context and anecdotes that make you hungry to learn more. See if you don’t agree.

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.

Repetitio mater studiorum est

“Repetition is the mother of all learning”

The past couple of weeks I’ve been painting glasses of water.

I’m interested in the distortion of the cloth’s pattern seen through the water, and the challenge of capturing the effect of light on both the glass and the liquid.

Having a repetitive subject like this to sink my teeth into is probably one of the best ways for me to learn and to grow (think scales on the piano). But in order to maintain interest it’s just as important that there is sufficient variety and an adequately steep challenge.

I’m finding enough similarity between subjects that I am starting to sense a recurring order and structure with each new sketch, while the variables of pattern and color between them (as well as the desire for improvement) is the substance that is keeping me thoroughly engaged.

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I searched a few of my heroes to see what they did with the subject

Mark Adams, Black Water Jar, 1982. Aquatint, 16.25 x 16.75, Teaberry Press, Edition of 30

David Hockney, Postcard of Richard Wagner with Glass of Water, 1973. Etching, 8.5 x 6.1, Edition of 100

Wayne Thiebaud, Drink, 1999-2002. Oil on panel, 26.6 x 29.8cm

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Check out Marc Taro Holmes answer to the question: “When practicing drawing, do you recommended drawing the same thing till it becomes perfect or drawing different things every day?”

Also – if you are relatively local, I just noticed that Marc will be giving the workshop “Still Life in Watercolor” on December 2nd at the Helen Day Art Center in Stowe.

Try, Try Again

For the past month I’ve been working on the three small pieces I dyed in September.

It was relatively smooth-going on the first two, but the third has proven to be a real challenge. I mistakenly thought that working smaller would be quicker and easier (the image area of each is around 3.5″ x 4″). Yet it didn’t exactly work out that way. This has been one of those instances when I have been grateful for the ease with which stitches can be undone.

Of the dozen pieces in this on-going series, this latest one has definitely been the trickiest, with many false starts. The saucer was killing me until I finally decided to just dive in and keep stitching to see what would happen.

Although there are technical elements of the earlier iterations that I like a lot and will likely pursue in the future, that darn spoon needed to be grounded.

The experience is best equated to matching up the threads of a screw-on lid — while sometimes the top seems to be closed, you know it’s not quite right.

There’s nothing to be done but undo and retry, sometimes several times. Keeping in mind Adrianna Huffington’s quote: “Failure is not the opposite of success, it’s part of success”, it’s a sweet feeling once everything is settled properly into the grooves at last.

On a Different Note________________________________________________________________________________________

Decoding the Creative Genius of Leonardo da Vinci: This week Tom Ashbrook of NPR’s On Point interviewed biographer Walter Isaacson about his latest book ‘Leonardo Da VInci’. Fascinating! I’m adding it to my “to-be-read” list.

Shibori x3

Working in tandem with my 3 jalapeño sketches last week, I stitched my way through the waiting period between watercolor washes.

Stitched-resist

When I was a college student, I spent a Winter Term in Seattle working with and learning from watercolorist Karen Guzak. At that time her studio was in her home and she counseled the value of such an arrangement in allowing one to multi-task — a term I’m not sure we were using yet in the late 70’s. At 20, I couldn’t relate to being able to throw in a load of laundry while a different kind of wash dried, but her words stayed with me and have served me well. Always having a home studio is what has allowed me to work continuously around the privilege of being home with two kids.

Stitching drawn up and dyed

Just as I mentioned last week, there is much to be learned through repetition and variation, and that fact is perhaps most salient when pieces are made in close succession.

shibori 3

I usually set up at least 3 different colors of dye to use at once. These pieces gently progressed through variations of those colors so that they are each in the same family while remaining different. Thread choice will eventually highlight those distinctions.

On a Different Note________________________________________________________________________________________

What I’m reading now: A Piece of the World by Christina Baker Kline — “a fictional memoir of the woman in the famed Wyeth painting Christina’s World” – Erik Larson.
So far, so good – there is much that resonates considering its Maine setting.