Tag Archives: Richard Diebenkorn

Little Houses

For the time being, continuing to make these little houses inspired by the Sheltering in Place project seems right and appropriate. There is something reassuring about making work that directly relates to this unusual time and that has the power to add a positive spin.

The in-process piece I showed you two posts ago is now finished. Here all the sides are laid out and ready to assemble. I planned the imagery so that it would wrap continuously around the corners.

The ferns in detail

It has been exciting to discover needle-weaving as a concise (although slow) means of creating richly textured images. It also serves to make the most of the color variations found in variegated threads.

The corner images of this shot and the next illustrate a fuller idea of the piece as a whole

As the ferns turn the corner, the dogwood branches add to the sense of woodland.

In speaking with a friend who is a plant expert, I was bemoaning the fragility of the branches I’d collected in our woods to make “Cocooned”. I wanted to find something more flexible to use going forward.

Cocooned ©2020 Elizabeth Fram, 20″H x 11″W x 14″D overall, house dimensions 9″H x 6″W x 4.5″D, Wrapped-resist dye on silk with foraged branches. I barely dare to take this out of the studio because the branches are so brittle.

I told her I had hoped to be able to use plant material from our property, but figured I was out of luck because we don’t have any willow trees. She suggested I try our red-twig dogwood. It was a great idea. The dogwood branches have made a world of a difference, resiliently bending and springing back as I manhandle the piece while stitching it together. Their lovely red color and the fact that my dogwood needed a good pruning was an added bonus.

Titles are often the last big hurdle to finishing a piece. I try to come up with something brief that conveys the spirit of the work while offering a window into what was going through my mind in the making. “Cultivating An Oasis” is meant to communicate how valuable it’s been to have a garden to tend in isolation.

Due to the overall repetition, and my struggle to come up with pithy titles, it made sense to choose a series name and then to number each piece within it. If that method was good enough for Richard Diebenkorn, it surely works for me.

After much thought, I decided to go with “Retreat” as an umbrella title for these latest little houses. After all, a retreat can be seen from two opposing angles: as a withdrawal from danger or as a quiet and secluded place of comfort.
And doesn’t that dichotomy speak exactly to our experiences at home these past months?

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It’s occurred to me that of the ten COVID selfie images I’ve completed so far, eight are those of artists. I feel very lucky to have found such a vibrant tribe of creative souls since moving to Vermont!

I’ve written about Michelle’s work before, ironically almost exactly a year ago. She is continually pushing herself and her process. I encourage you to check out her website and her Instagram account.

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And for those of you who may have missed this, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Look to Art’s Formalities

Tuesday I loaded 25 pieces into a van and sent them on their way — all carefully wrapped, labeled, and ready to hang in the upcoming exhibit The Dialects of Line, Color, and Texture at the Highland Center for the Arts in Greensboro.

I am honored to have my work in company with pieces by Frank Woods and Elizabeth Billings, and I am very gratified to be part of a show that reaches beyond a specific medium or subject matter, instead highlighting how, despite the obvious contrasts, we all three gravitate to similar underlying formal structures to express our ideas.

I find this particularly pleasing since the formality of line, color, texture, shape, and composition is a major driving force behind both my drawings and my textile pieces. Perhaps, subconsciously, this explains why I was immediately attracted to both Frank’s and Elizabeth’s art when we moved to Vermont almost ten years ago.

I hope you’ll be able to join us for the opening on Saturday, or will be able to get up to Greensboro at some point during the show’s run (through May 26th). For those who can’t make it, I’ll do my best to have pictures to share with you next week.

Poster for The Dialects of Line, Color, and Texture

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This week textileartist.org posted an interview with Janet Bolton, another of my artistic heroes, whose work grabbed me very early during my own fledgling textile explorations. Attracted to her consideration of edges and the way she divides space, (again the formalities of art holding strong sway), I purchased two of Bolton’s books in the mid-90s: Patchwork Folk Art and In a Patchwork Garden. Hindsight reveals a predictable pattern of preference for these qualities, which resurfaced in my later inclination toward the work of Dorothy Caldwell, Toulouse-Lautrec, and Richard Diebenkorn, among others, and continues to attract me to artists today.
The dye, as they say, was cast.

Recipes for Learning

A by-product of getting ready to cozy-up for the cooler months is my anticipation of getting back to work in the kitchen. Aside from perhaps pie, summer just doesn’t seem to be a time to be excited about cooking. But as we slide into autumn, I look forward pulling down my purple Dutch oven. It’s a pleasure to make use of the garden’s harvest (both my own and that of local farmers) in soups and stews that will hopefully stretch across several meals, allowing me to work later in the studio another day or at least providing an easy future lunch. A friend recently gave us one of his home-raised chickens. It’s waiting in the freezer and is going to become something wonderful.

The one treat I purchased and brought home from Montreal earlier in the month was My Paris Kitchen, Stories and Recipes by David Lebovitz. If you also enjoy reading cookbooks and trying recipes that highlight seasonal ingredients that are long on flavor, then this a book for you. Lebovitz is an engaging writer, the photographs are lovely, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that his stories are akin to a mini visit to Paris.

I have been bringing my drawing tools into the kitchen recently, using the utensils and ingredients of whatever I am preparing for self-directed lessons of organizing a picture plane. Richard Diebenkorn’s sketchbooks, mentioned in this post, have been an inspiration in pushing my thoughts about composition.

If the idea of curling up with a cookbook isn’t exactly your style, try this: Parka Blogs reviews art books, all manner of creative materials / supplies, digital gadgets and also features interviews with a variety of artists…the perfect ingredients and a different kind of recipe for broadening your artistic curiosity.

Diebenkorn’s Treasure

Reading about the life and work of an artist is informative to be sure, but whatever you read can’t help but be flavored by the opinions and impressions of the book’s author. While that expert’s perspective may be enlightening, if given a choice I would prefer the advantage of tagging along with an artist in the studio — of being the proverbial fly on the wall — in order to begin to grasp the lessons to be learned by watching his or her process unfold.

Richard Diebenkorn, “Untitled” from Sketchbook #2, page 37 (1943–93), felt-tip marker ink on paper (gift of Phyllis Diebenkorn, © The Richard Diebenkorn Foundation) (click to enlarge)

With that in mind, I was very excited to read on Hyperallergic a couple of weeks ago that 29 of Richard Diebenkorn’s sketchbooks would be on view at Stanford University this fall in the exhibition Richard Diebenkorn: The Sketchbooks Revealed.

Richard Diebenkorn, “Untitled” from Sketchbook #10, page 13 (1943–93), gouache and watercolor on paper (gift of Phyllis Diebenkorn, © The Richard Diebenkorn Foundation)

Even more exciting, Stanford’s Cantor Arts Center has digitized these sketchbooks so they are now available online to anyone. Diebenkorn is one of my artistic heroes, so I can’t believe the good fortune of being able to page through this treasure trove of visual information at my own pace… and without having to travel across the country!

Richard Diebenkorn, “Untitled” from Sketchbook #20, page 45 (1943–93), crayon on paper (gift of Phyllis Diebenkorn, © The Richard Diebenkorn Foundation)

Needless to say, I think having a sketchbook is one of the most valuable assets in any artist’s practice. I can’t think of a better way to keep track of and clarify ideas. The privilege of being able to leaf through the drawings and design ideas of a master is a true gift.

Richard Diebenkorn, Cover of Sketchbook #8 (1943–93), printing ink on laminated board (gift of Phyllis Diebenkorn, © The Richard Diebenkorn Foundation)

Finally, if you have any doubts about the measurable benefits a sketchbook can offer you personally, check out this blog post by Nela Dunato. It may just spur you on to get started.