Tag Archives: Farnsworth Museum

À la Carte

I’m not sure how we did it, but when we planned this year’s trip to Maine last winter we somehow landed on what might have been the best week of the summer; we only had to pay one day of rain tax. Considering what a soggy season it has been across New England, that’s really saying something.

Clark Island

Before we leave, I usually have 1 or 2 specific shows in mind I want to see, but it never fails that unexpected creative treats pop up along the way. Here’s a bit of a tasting menu of what caught my eye.

Portland Coastline ©Diane Been, Oil on paper I couldn’t stop looking at this print of a painting by Diane Beem during lunch at Mae’s Cafe in Bath. Deemed “Modern Fauvism” by the artist, the colors aren’t what one might usually associate with the Portland waterfront, and I think that’s a large part of what drew me in.

©David B Harmon Always a sucker for animals in art, I loved David B Harmon’s woodblock relief prints, some of which were huge. His exhibit “Cohabitation” at Rock City Café in Rockland calls attention to the fact that we share community with creatures of all types. And knowing a couple of special somebodies who are currently trying to negotiate a coexistence with a raccoon, this piece suddenly had special meaning.

Archipelago is a Rockland art & craft gallery filled with the work of Maine artists. Its mission is to support creative island and working waterfront communities. Currently, they are highlighting the work of Kelly Desrosiers: acrylic collage that looked (to me) like fabric.

Bird Island by Kelly Desrosiers, Acrylic Collage

The Farnsworth Museum is a gem that always has something terrific on view.

Edward Hopper, Haunted House 1926, Watercolor, gouache, pastel and graphite on paper

One of their current exhibits, “Edward Hopper and Andrew Wyeth: Rockland, ME”, blew me away. Beautifully curated, it finds strong parallels between works of two very different artists, made decades apart. The stars of the show are their subjects: Rockland, as a place, and the physical apparatuses of its historic industries. The overlap of the artists’ interpretations were both surprising and delightful.

Andrew Wyeth, Untitled (Snow House), 1983, Watercolor on paper

I always return to the fact that details are my kryptonite.

There is a world unto itself in the variation of color in each pane of glass Wyeth painted in this window.

This summer I’ve been experimenting in my sketchbook with layering assorted media, including gouache and soft pastels. So it was a treat to see how Hopper incorporated a variety of materials in this lyrically beautiful passage of grass in the foreground of “Haunted House”.

A couple of other gems at the Farnsworth I couldn’t resist sharing:

Francesco Clemente, Robert Creeley, 2002, Oil on linen, Gift of the Alex Katz Foundation Any and every portrait is intriguing to me these days.

Lois Dodd, The Painted Room, 1982, Oil on linen The ambiguity of Dodd’s depiction of this room’s painted mural, framing the window, framing the real outdoors, sets the stage for all sorts of imaginings.

I was lucky that one of my Maine buddies alerted me in advance to the (Brunswick) Curtis Memorial Library’s exhibition of Robert McCloskey’s original illustrations of some of his most iconic and best loved books.
Forgive the reflections.

Most kids from Maine know all about Blueberries for Sal. For those of us who grew up in the state and summered in an old-fashioned, down-to-earth Maine cottage on the coast (not the fancy McMansion-type dwellings built by people from away), everything about this book is comfortingly familiar (except the bears).

When I look at art, it’s invariably with an eye toward what I can learn from someone else’s expertise. This detail from one of the illustrations in McCloskey’s Burt Dow, Deep-Water Man is a masterclass on being concise without sacrificing detail.

One of a number of wooden reliefs by Blake Hendrickson, also at the library. They reminded me of my friend Dianne Shullenberger’s “Circular Earth Series”.

And finally, the cherry on top of the vacation cake was discovering this local exhibit of portraits by Abby Carter. Beautiful work honoring community.

Abby Carter

One last Maine note: There’s always time around the edges to do a bit of sketching. I’ve been very happy to learn that soft pastels can be wetted and painted like watercolors.

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And now, back in Vermont, I’ve finished the portrait you have only seen snippets of so far.

The Gardener, Detail Since it’s a bear to photograph the glow of gold paint, this detail better captures what the photo above didn’t.

Downeast Alchemist

Don’t you love it when you come across the unexpected?

When visiting the Farnsworth Museum in Rockland, Maine last month, the last gallery I walked through held a wonderful surprise. As something of a temple to Maine art, artists, and the state itself, the Farnsworth is filled with works that express a love for the landscape, seascapes, people, and industry that make Maine the special place it is. For the most part, I would say the collection spans the early 19th century to the late 20th. In such a relatively traditional environment, happening upon Brian White’s piece Rose Arbor / Sea Street was a refreshing anomaly.

Rose Arbor / Sea Street, Brian White, 2006, Welded copper tubing, shells, Gaufrage velvet

Unquestionably, White’s piece is a confection; a dress formed of metal, covered in roses and leaves that one soon realizes are made of thousands of tiny shells. The work communicates beauty and strength, two characteristics that one might also associate with Maine. I tend to be attracted to work where the materials don’t necessarily jive with what is being portrayed, thus nudging the imagination via unexpected parallels. Take a look at Fraser Smith’s wood carved “textiles” for another example of this approach.

The gallery card adjacent to the work says of White: “his distinctive body of work reflects his sensitivity to materials and at the same time pays homage to the memory of people and events past and present, often referencing the sea”. I searched for more information on him and discovered very little. But check out John Ames “Frog Pond Journal” blog and the Peabody Essex Museum site to see others of his imaginative pieces and to gain a glimpse into White’s world.

Rose Arbor / Sea Street, detail

Having grown up on the Maine coast and logged my fair share of solitary hours on a rocky beach, I found depths to this piece beyond the obvious use of unexpected found materials. It shot me back through time, allowing me to indulge memories of childhood imaginary worlds created out of tide pool treasures and detritus washed up on the shore. What a gift of connection that is.

Read Paula Crown’s article Thinking Like an Artist – Translating Ideas into Form while keeping White’s work in the back of your mind as context. Both left me with an appreciation of the broad alchemy of art-making and how it shapes our world.

Last Hurrah of Color

One of the perks of living in a rural state is the beauty of the open land one passes on the way to pretty much everywhere.

Blueberry leaves in the fall are glorious – as these few stragglers attest

Each season lends its voice to the ever-changing flora, with color combinations that are sometimes prominent, sometimes subtle, but always there to enjoy. The sight of a well-known field as it reliably cycles through the year’s seasons is a both a source of comfort and of inspiration.

The azaleas also outdid themselves this year

Driving the back roads through the Northeast Kingdom to the Canadian border last week was a chance to enjoy the final gasp of what has been a gorgeous Vermont fall. Of particular note were the deep russet and rust hues interlaced between the ochres and dark umbers of the grasses and foliage in the marshes and bogs we passed, their impact heightened by the gloomily overcast skies. As various plants decline toward winter their colors differentiate, allowing their individual shapes to show in a way that isn’t visible amidst the lush blend of summer’s myriad shades of green.

This shrub is a voracious creeper that requires constant and merciless pruning. But all is forgiven when it puts on this stunning ombre display.

There wasn’t time to stop to take photos, but after getting home, I circled our yard to record the last legs of our own foliage. And good thing I did; strong winds and rain over the following 24 hours swept down the last of the leaves. For one final afternoon though, the striking color took my breath away.

The sight of crabapples and winterberry ease the transition when leaves drop

Not being a landscape artist, it’s hard to gauge how these impressions will surface in my work, but I know that somehow they will. It’s part of the wonderful, ongoing homework of making art. Paying attention to the colors that surround us, gleaning what we can in order to reinterpret them in a meaningful and personal way, is one of the many privileges of what we do and a major component of what attracts me to the work of others. The paintings below, seen recently at The Farnsworth Museum in Rockland, Maine, are a perfect example.

Six Cows At Lincolnville, Lois Dodd, 1961, Oil on canvas

Untitled (View from the Ruohomaa homestead on Dodge’s Mountain), Kosti Ruohomaa, 1935, Oil on panel.

To frame this idea from another perspective, consider color not necessarily as subject, but from the angle of its impact on us as a backdrop. Research abounds on how wall color affects mood and behavior in prisons, schools, and hospitals; it is certainly true of our outward surroundings as well. Museums and galleries play on this theory too — the variety of colors that grace their walls add immeasurably, although perhaps subconsciously, to the way one sees and experiences the art on display. Is that not also true of our outdoor environment and its effect on us? What better reason to celebrate a field sporting its last hurrah of color on a grey and drizzly morning than for witnessing its inherent beauty and the way the sight of it flavors the rest of our day as we move forward.

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I found a couple of interesting articles about the thought that goes on behind the scenes in choosing wall colors to enhance an exhibition, thereby heightening the viewers’ experience. In one, individual curators talk about what inspires their choices, and in the other, how color designers/colorists often create new colors to best highlight the work on exhibit.

©2019 Elizabeth Fram, 18×24 inches, Graphite and colored pencil on paper Perhaps resurfacing more quickly than I would have thought — reds and golds in a quick study from life drawing earlier this week.

And for those interested in getting even further in the weeds on this subject, enjoy this fascinating article from the Metropolitan Museum on “Color and Light in the Museum Environment”.

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One final note and announcement:
At the end of this month, I am going to be making a bit of a change with this blog in order to reclaim some much-needed time for other areas of my practice. It won’t be disappearing entirely by any stretch, but it will begin to transform. I’ll let you know more at the end of November. In the meantime, I am ever so grateful for your ongoing interest and support, and I hope you will stay with me and keep reading as Eye of the Needle moves forward to its next chapter.

Persicaria