This piece, Ulysses’ Wave, is about change — and more specifically, coming to terms with the aging and the loss of a parent. It seemed a worthy candidate for sharing a look into my process, which is largely intuitive and does not involve much preparation other than a vague idea of where I am headed.

Ulysses’ Wave  19″ x 38″  ©2014 Elizabeth Fram

Almost daily my dog and I walk the same path in the woods, and as a result I’m sensitive to the subtle differences I see from day to day. My observations have prompted me to think about the slow changes that occur as one season merges into the next, which in turn led me to consider the idea of such a progression in wider terms.

Even though one is fully aware change is coming, there can suddenly be a moment when the realization strikes home that the exchange has already occurred — almost like the silent flip of a switch. The most apt metaphor I can come up with is an invisible line that one day you are a bit surprised to find you have already crossed. In a nutshell, that’s the concept behind Ulysses’ Wave.

In my work, I’ve been developing a process for a couple of years now that brings together my interest in color, texture, and the organization and arrangement of shapes within an image. I aim to capitalize on the qualities that make working with textiles unique through the shifting of one’s focus between the surface of the work and the image portrayed. Along the way, I’m learning to become comfortable with the fact that no part of the process is entirely predictable; the final piece will evolve as it does, which is the result of lots of starts and stops along the way.

In beginning Ulysses’ Wave, I first dyed strips of raw silk in a gradual progression from a bright, clear green to a subdued, faded neutral.

Each segment was then stitched so that once the threads were pulled tight and the strips put in a second dye bath – each progressively more muted –  the resulting shibori pattern created connections and continuity between the strips, but maintained distinct characteristics.

With the dyeing completed and the segments laid out in order, I realized a counterpoint was needed to offset the uninterrupted rhythm of the piece so far. I painted and inserted a strip of dupioni silk to provide some breathing room.

But as the process of embroidery began in earnest, something didn’t seem quite right…

The painted section was too wide and disruptive

And here it seemed too thin

Finally…a width that feels correct.

The next part of the process is one that I really enjoy — auditioning thread for color and placement. One of the great things about thread is that you can get your hands right into the color (it reminds me a bit of playing in my mother’s jewelry box when I was little).

Then comes the largely intuitive job of using stitch to play off the pattern, color and shapes created by the dye.

At this point the embroidery, for the most part, seemed complete. I had spent weeks on the challenge of harnessing visual movement so that it flowed around and through the piece, rather than traveling to one side and dropping off the edge.  But unfortunately, it’s not uncommon to get this far and to discover after pinning the work to my design wall that I can’t get past a niggling feeling that part of it isn’t working. Thus begins something of a waiting game – one of holding back and taking time to consider, anticipating an eventual solution which will set me on the right path.

So this is where I’m going to leave you until next time — considering, as I did, how to bring this piece to a place where it could convey a sense of the transformation that comes with change, while maintaining, as we all must, some form of continuity.

Enjoy your week…