The World of Edo Japan

Kitagawa Utamaro, Woman, Possibly Naniwaya Okita, Adjusting Her Coiffure in a Mirror, c. 1792-93; color woodcut with mica on mirror glass.; 14.6 x 9.6 inches.

In the winter of 2008, Asia Society mounted a generous and stunning exhibition titled "Designed for Pleasure: the World of Edo Japan in Prints and Paintings, 1680-1860. I remember walking around in a mood of buoyant excitement, as I saw one beautiful print or painting after another. The show focused on images of the world of pleasure––the "floating world" or ukiyo-e––in Edo, which became Tokyo.

I can understand the powerful impression that Japanese prints made on European artists of the 19th century; when I look at the Utamaro above, I see a design like nothing done in the West. The repeating curves, black moving sinuously from mirror to kimono to hair; the flat simple shapes that yet give an illusion of volume; the portrait pared down to basics; the gorgeous harmony of color. With our 21st century eyes, having seen decades of abstraction, this work is not a total revelation, but it is still compelling and enriching.

Katsukawa Shunsho, Peony, late 1770's; hanging scroll; ink and color on silk; 18.5 x 27 inches.

This painting struck me with the elegance and rhythm of its line, which flows around and about the figures, folds of figured cloth moving like music, the two entwined lovers having as much grace as the single peony.

Katsukawa Shunsho, Ichikawa Danjuro V in Kumadori Makeup Seen in a Mirror, late 1780s; hanging scroll;ink and color on silk; 31 x 4.7 inches.

There were many long narrow scrolls, a very difficult format to engage successfully. I find this extremely narrow painting just perfect in its balance of heavy dark form and empty space, the circle of mirror touching the edge, and its portrait reflection of red, black and white demanding the right amount of attention. What a nervy and dramatic image!

Suziki Harunobu, Courtesan of the Motoya and Client Disguised as an Itinerant Monk, 1770; color woodcut, 11.4 x 8.5 inches.

This print by an early master of color printing has a more delicate sensibility. The figures are part of a stage-like space, drawn in parallel perspective. The color is very beautiful, the reds and greens playing off against violet and gray. I have looked at these prints for color inspiration for some of my hooked rugs because they are simple and harmonious.

Many of the pigments used in these prints are of vegetable origin, such as safflower or red bud for red or pink, turmeric for yellow, indigo for blue. The cochineal insect yielded a red lake. They also used inorganic pigments such as white lead, or iron oxide.

Eishosai Choki, Catching Fireflies, c. 1794; color woodcut with mica ground; 15 x 9.75 inches.

Isn't it wonderful to realize that the activity we so enjoyed as a child, catching fireflies, was part of a child's life in the 18th century? This delightful image reminds me of the work of Charles Burchfield who often painted wondrous light.

Chokyosai Eiri, Flowers of Edo: The Master of Yanagibashi, c. 1795; color woodcut with mica ground; 14.4 x 9.8 inches.

I like this image for its drama of figure surrounded by dark, and that gorgeous yellow next to the purply red. This is a portrait of a chanter who is seen looking at a libretto and beating time with his fan. I love works such as these, so abstract in form, so balanced in structure.

I am very happy to have to catalog for this show, another of my favorites, from which I photographed the works for this post.

A Walk in the Woods: After Rain

It is very unusual for me to present two posts in a row about things I've seen in the woods, but today was such a beautiful day and the subject ephemeral, so I couldn't resist sharing this with you. I am used to seeing shallow pools of water in scattered places throughout the woods in spring, as the snow melts and the ground begins to thaw. They are called vernal pools, which I wrote about here. These more unusual fall pools come after a month of heavy rains; I recorded over 11 inches in my rain gauge for October. The water has brought the color of leaves back to life, with red and gold alongside the deep blue reflection of the sky.




A marvelous sight: tiny club shaped mushrooms, probably some kind of earth tongue, catching the light, looking like soft sparse hair on a bald pate.




This is a vivid illustration of the power of water to rejuvenate dried leaves, cool gray turned into warmth.




I pass a rivulet that runs in spring and dries up during summer. It is now burbling again, adding its soothing sound to the landscape, more delight to what was a marvelous day.

A Walk in the Woods: Animal Traces

Leaves are no longer obscuring the rising trunks of trees, both living and dead, so looking up, I now am more aware of the many holes of different shapes and sizes drilled into them. I assume that these are the work of woodpeckers, who drill into trees for insects and grubs. The larger holes may be for nests. There are other trees with bark that appears deeply scratched and torn, which is probably the work of bears. Trees feed other creatures in many ways.




This pattern of small 1/4 inch holes, looking like a secret code or an accounting, was made by a yellow bellied sapsucker, a type of woodpecker. Yes, there actually is a bird by that name, which for me is the silliest animal name there is. Was there a cartoon character years ago that was a yellow bellied sapsucker? a friend of Woody's perhaps?




Birds and bears are not the only animals in the woods leaving their marks on trees. Of course Homo sapiens cuts them down and manages the woods, but there are other more subtle traces of their presence. The trees along stone walls were once saplings bordering pastures, and barbed wire was strung between them to keep in the herd. Decades later, the trees have grown around the wire, and it sometimes disappears deep into the tree, to reappear on the other side.

And lastly, the declaration of personhood and presence:

A New Rug Hooking Project in Progress: "Resting"

After doing four shaped pieces, I decided to go back to a more traditional rectangle framing an image. I'm calling this one Resting for now, because it looks like the long oval shape has settled down comfortably to nestle against the bottom edge. In the thumbnail and color sketch above, you can see that my idea right from the beginning was to have the direction of the rug hooking to be vertical, pressing down against the oval.




In the sketch, I envisioned the color of the background blue-green would go from a darker value at the top to a lighter value below, so I dip dyed the wool. I placed some dye in the pot, and using a four foot length of 12 inch wide wool, I dipped one end of it into the dye, up and down, each time dropping more of the fabric into the dye. Then I finally dropped the whole length into the pot with the much diminished dye. This technique results in a light to dark wool color. I can also add other colors during the process if I'd like a hue change along with a value change.




Here is the piece well underway. Although I knew I wanted the background hooked vertically, I wasn't sure of how to do the oval. I could have taken a more geometric path by hooking the wool in concentric ovals, but decided to have the contrast of wandering and straight. Maybe the irregular hooking will give the oval a slight organic quality, a pink body settling.

Beet-Tomato Soup, a Variation on Borscht

I love making big pots of soup during cold months, almost always having a bowl of soup for lunch. The beets in the cellar are a good base for soup, and there are many different beet soups; last January I posted a recipe for a winter borscht which I make vegetarian style, with cabbage, onions, carrots and tomatoes. This recipe, which comes to me from my friend, the artist Cathy Clair Cone, is simpler, with just beets and tomatoes as the main ingredients. The recipe I had jotted down several years ago after enjoying this soup was rather abbreviated and cryptic, so my version may be different from Cathy's, but it's still quite good. The flavor of beets and tomatoes is tangy, close to sharp but not quite, and the cumin enhances the brightness. Aside from having equal amounts of tomatoes and beets, the other ingredient amounts can be increased or decreased according to your taste.

Equal amounts by weight of tomatoes and beets. For this recipe I used 28 ounces of each.
6 cups water, or more if you like a thinner soup
2 teas cumin
2 Tbs garlic, chopped
lots of freshly ground black pepper
salt to taste
some basil if available.

1. Parboil the beets, for medium sized beets 1/2 hour. Peel and grate them; I use a food processor for this step.
2. Chop the tomatoes. Place both vegetables in a pot with the water, bring to a boil and cook till vegetables are tender, about 15 minutes.
3. Add cumin, garlic, salt and pepper and cook for a few minutes more.
4. Serve hot with a spoonful of yogurt or sour cream. (I prefer yogurt)

You'll notice that I use a very large amount of garlic. It doesn't taste very strong when put raw into the soup. Also, I've been trying to cut down on my salt love, and garlic goes a long way to improving flavor without salt.

A New Painting: "Green Blue Tilt"

Green Blue Tilt, egg tempera on calfskin parchment, 5 1/2 x 7 inches

With this new work I'm back to a subject consisting of flat planes and simple geometry: triangles and tilted rectangles. I happen to like this kind of composition, although I realize that some of my friends prefer the more complex images. I played around quite a lot with the color, especially the rust reds, and considered leaving that color out altogether, but decided the red note was welcome. In order to keep the red in harmony with the blue shapes, I painted the large mass as a shape parallel to the thin red line, instead of a floating irregular shape as it was originally.




I got to a point in the painting when I thought I was done, but wasn't happy with the blue surface; it seems too flat and lifeless. So I went back and glazed some dark cobalt blue on top of the lighter blue, using my brush loosely and fluidly. The detail above gives a sense of the now slightly variegated color (keep in mind this is much larger than life size), which makes the painting more lively. The two shadowed indentations you see are imperfections in the calfskin parchment.

Below are two groupings of paintings hanging in the studio, as requested by a couple of readers. I had felt unsure of the painting Turning (center, below), but was reassured by readers; thank you! because now I see that its illusionistic depth works very well with the other flatter images, something I must keep in mind moving forward.

A Walk in the Woods: Mosses, New Growth

Yesterday's clear sky was a November gift, a break from the gray weather usual for this time of year. My woods walk was exhilarating; the light and crisp air raised my spirits, the intense spicey-sweet scent of wet earth and decaying leaves was so strong as to be almost dizzying. With the leaves fallen to earth and turned brown, the remaining green is to be found in some ferns and in the mosses. Mosses are in their glory now, bright warm and emerald greens, brilliant with new growth, encouraged by recent rains and the increasing light on the forest floor, no longer blocked by high foliage. I see some downed tree trunks covered in cushiony green, losing their original nature, looking like woodland benches. I have to bend down to closely look at the different forms of the mosses, greatly aided by the closeup lens on my camera.




A tiny moss growing on a log along with small shelf mushrooms, which are a couple of inches across, to give a sense of scale.




Many mosses are reproducing, sending up the wands of fruiting bodies, here making soft red haze above the green.




The lighter green moss, with its fern-like structure, seems to have very pale 'fronds' as new growth. The textures and subtle color shifts of the two mosses are lovely.




There is a large dark rock face that has become more brilliantly green with the advancing fall. Along with the mosses are tiny new ferns, each frond not more than two inches long, providing a visual counterpoint to the mossy mat. There's so much beauty to be found in these small plants.

November Light

We are beginning the months of few daylight hours, slanting light, crisp air. The band of pink light through pine trees last evening seemed a perfect illustration of this time of year, with the sun setting further south behind this row of trees, a bare glimpse of clear sky amid the gray of November, the birches white lines, glimmering.




This morning, another beautiful November display: rime ice softly glittering on dried grasses, a sea of fog settling below Blue Mountain, the rising light warm red to golden. Scenes such as these are a reason to be thankful for the changing of the seasons.

A New Hooked Rug: "Floating Oval"

Floating Oval, hand-dyed wool on linen, 11 x 14 1/2 inches.

Here is the last of a set of four works, each of which is made up of two shapes, one moving out from the background quadrilateral. I think the triangles, not surprisingly, are the most dynamic, with their sharp angles. I like to imagine the conversation between these very different characters.

As you can see below, I've hung the four in the triangular space between slanted window and ceiling beam; the unusual space adds an assertive element, instead of the blank neutrality of an expanse of white wall; Floating Oval fits perfectly leaning up against the old wood beam. I enjoyed working with this format, so will likely do more in the future.

A Visit to the Fairbanks Museum

When you step through the doors of the grand stone building, Richardsonian Romanesque in style, of the Fairbanks Museum in Saint Johnsbury, Vermont, you enter a time machine which whisks you back to the late 19th century, into a Victorian cabinet of curiosities. Along with the ticket taker, bears welcome you into a space that hasn't changed in over 100 years. I love visiting this natural history museum, and taking guests to see it; it is intimate and personal and quirky, a place where time has stopped.




On the ground floor there are hundreds of birds on display, and dioramas of animals local and exotic, here the noble cats of Vermont––mountain lion (catamount) and lynx (or bobcat?). The aged look of these displays is touching to me; they are very simple compared to the grandeur of those at the Museum of Natural History in NYC.




There's even a display of the lowly woodchuck, the bane of gardeners. Does he look cute, or like a big rat? I love the lichens on the rock adding a naturalistic note, and those stiff black-eyed susan flowers provide a touch of the comic.




Upstairs, a beautiful vaulted wood ceiling adds grace to the galleries marching around the sides of the building. Franklin Fairbanks, the founder of the museum, collected widely, so there is a eclectic range of objects on view, from African instruments to American dolls, Chinese shoes to biblical parchments. There are just a few of each category on view, with old labels looking like they were printed many years ago.




Here are two details from intensely worked, remarkable Chinese embroideries, showing this needle work as a high art. The information on them was scant, so not helpful. (click to enlarge and see details of any image)




There are a small number of interesting Native American objects, including this saddle bag from the mid 19th century. I love the bold patterning of paint on the rawhide. I wonder how many of the shapes are symbols, and how many are there because they simply pleased the artist.




For me, the highlight of the Fairbanks collections is the "Bug Art", images made up of thousands of insects, which bring out the kid in me, the sense of wonder. The nine pieces the museum owns, the entire output of the artist and entomologist John Hampson, were made in the late 19th century. Each work uses 6,000 to 13,000 insects and took years to complete. The designs aren't particularly interesting––along with abstract circular designs are an American flag and a portrait of George Washington––but the sheer doggedness of the activity is amazing.




And, as you can see in this detail, the bugs make beautiful patterns, and are full of color and light.




For a final treat, down in the basement of the museum is the weather station for the "Eye on the Sky" guys, Vermont's premier weather forecasters. This is it, local readers, the place where your essential forecasts originate (that might be Chris Bouchard in the chair).

If you're in the area, I highly recommend a visit to this gem of a museum; and then you can walk across the street to the library, the Saint Johnsbury Atheneum, and see their art collection, another surprising gift to a visitor.

A New Painting: "Turning"

Turning, egg tempera on calfskin parchment, 7 1/4 x 5 inches.

My newest painting is composed differently from most that came before: instead of an essentially flat plane, parallel to the picture plane, this work pushes back and forth in space, turning round from side to side and from back to front. I've been feeling that this illusionism is possibly too naturalistic, so am not sure of the success of the painting, though at times it seems interestingly strange. Is it too real, too complex, not abstract enough? I like there to be an even balance, but here it might be tipped; what do you think?

Because this is a fairly complicated painting, I took a couple of process shots. This first one shows the painting when the color was first sketched in and there was still a lot of transparency to the paint. The parchment has a very luminous quality at this stage.




And here is the painting after I worked on the drawing, getting each form in its place in the correct proportion. I do some of this freehand with paint and some, like the straight lines, with a pencil and ruler. This foundation of drawing allows me to use paint more freely. It is not etched in stone, however, as I do change things as I continue to work; my aim, not always achieved, is to keep a quality of freshness within the precise rendering.

Middle Eastern Beet Salad

This is a wonderful recipe that comes from my cousin Poopa Dweck's grand cookbook Aromas of Aleppo. My mother never made beet salad in this way, so I tried Poopa's recipe and was delighted with the results. The most important flavor in this recipe, and most exotic, is the sour taste of tamarind paste; pomegranate syrup would also work, but not the sweetened juice. This ingredient can be found in some health food stores and in Middle Eastern and Indian markets. I've had great success with this salad at pot lucks.


2 pounds of beets, boiled and skins removed
1 Tbs extra virgin olive oil
3 Tbs lemon juice
2 Tbs tamarind paste
1 teas ground cumin
1/4 teas cayenne
salt to taste
1/2 cup chopped parsley
1 small red onion, chopped

1. Cut beets into 1/2 inch cubes.
2. Make the dressing by combining olive oil, lemon juice, tamarind, spices and salt. Mix well.
3. Pour the dressing over the beets, then add the parsley and onions and stir.

Sheila Hicks: Miniatures

Ringlets; made in Paris, 1993; interlock, reversible; rubber bands, paper clips; 12 1/4 x 5 inches

A cascade of circus-festive, elastic bands congregates and loops into a paper clip. A repetitive gesture, on the accumulation of similar elements, accords with my natural instincts.
I chose to build with fiber rather than overlay paint upon paint, or carve wood, or struggle to give form to soft clay or wax.

One of my favorite catalogs on my bookshelf is Sheila Hicks: Weaving as Metaphor, from a 2006 exhibition at the Bard Graduate Center in NYC. Now that I am painting at a very small size, the small works that Hicks has made throughout her life have extra meaning to me. Sheila Hicks is an important contemporary textile artist whose work I had been unaware of until friends told me about the show; I sadly missed it, but the catalog has given me a great deal of pleasure and inspiration.

Although Hicks makes many more traditional looking pieces, the works that I most love are surprising and inventive, such as Ringlets above. Paper clips and rubber bands: what could be more simple, or closer to hand? They are transformed into a marvelous rhythm of irregular circles and bouncing colors. Hicks commented on many of the works in the show, comments that are thoughtful, articulate, and often personal, so that the pieces are like a diary, a notation of place and feeling, and of making. It was very difficult to choose just a few works to show here because there are so many ideas and enticing images in the book.

Dimanche; made in Paris, 1960; wrapped leather, linen, paper; 3 1/2 x 5 inches.

Shoelaces bound with linen. Sunday I rifle through castoffs in the flea market in search of distinctive discards.

Another piece made of ordinary materials, Dimanche is tightly bound, yet bursting with energy.

Trout Quipu; made in Galway, Ireland, 1964; woven, braided reversible, three finished selvages; wool; 8 x 5 1/2 inches.

Quipu––an abacus of the Andes––became the model for a series of wall panels I knotted in a carpet workshop in Ireland. The concept of dangling, tangled warps worked into a counting system was labor-intensive but captivating.

I chose this image because I found the inspiration for it so interesting; imagine turning an abacus into a weaving!

Cross Over; made in Paris, 1968; woven, all selvages finished; wool; 8 1/4 x 5 1/2 inches.

Vertical parallel warp detaches and moves diagonally to invite weft to follow the errant path.

I find this piece lovely, as though two figures, side by side, are moving to touch each other and join together. It's quite a conversation they are having.

Miniature Textile; made in Nantes, France, 1987; woven, stitched, reversible, all selvages finished; 7 x 5 inches.

I see this as a charming portrait: a young woman, stylish haircut, bound and free. Or sometimes I see a cartoon face, full of joy and fun.

Back from the Front; made in Jerusalem, ca. 1979; knitted, stitched cotton jersey; 9 x8 inches.

Khaki green t-shirt jersey is repeatedly sewn with a sharp needle.

It is moving to think of Hicks sewing "repeatedly" on a khaki army t-shirt "with a sharp needle", a brilliant metaphor for the intractable problems of Israel/Palestine.

Tibidabo Daydream; made in Barcelona, 1973; woven, all selvages finished; wool, cotton, paper; 9 1/2 x 6 1/2 inches.

On my way to Tibidabo, the Barcelona amusement park, I bought pajamas for my son who was in the hospital. I kept the tags and inserted them as weft.

What an idea, to weave clothing tags into a textile. This is an example of the weaving as diary; photographs work for this, but how much more present are the actual objects of a life.

ChoCho San; made in France, 2006; dyed, woven, and sewn; synthetic fiber, color transfer paper; 10 x 7 1/4 inches.

The sewn, brightly colored piece of paper caught between strings, bound by weaving, though still managing to burst free. The combination of transparent and opaque, paper and fiber give a sense of movement, so that I might have titled this "Continental Drift".

And here, taken from her website, is a Hicks commission, which I think is pretty amazing; the ideas from the miniatures writ large.