Small Incidents on Snow

When there is a light coating of snow on the ground, many small weeds and grasses peek up above it, making delicate gestures that I find very touching. There are so many images here: the small death of winter, the purity of snow, the continued life of animals, the promise of a return in the browned stems.

Tiny seed heads emerge from mounds of snow.....

.....and seeds are scattered on the white, perhaps to take root when the ground thaws.

A beautiful little cone forms around a short stem.

Marks on the snow come from a rolling ball, from fallen ice.

And a pattern of tiny feet moves from house to car to barn and back.

Another creature, a woodpecker, leaves a scattering of chips from its work above. So many things happening, small and inconsequential, but lovely to notice.

Lastly, beneath the snow, the rivulet in the lower field still runs, not yet frozen into its winter sleep.

Serra's Seductive Surfaces

It seems strange that cold, hard steel, industrially utilitarian, can also have a sensuous richness of surface, but Richard Serra's monumental sculpture achieves that quality: austere, yet lushly beautiful. The exhibition currently at Gagosian Gallery on 24th St consists of four pieces made up of thick plates of weatherproofed steel. The gallery website at the link has minimal information on the work, but it does have a walk through video, and one for the show on 21st St, which I was sorry to have missed. When confronted with these enormous flat plates, I could not help but be engaged with their surfaces, so present and so gorgeous. Looking at the variations of color and depth on the piece above, it seemed as though the sculptor was carefully carving a low relief, one that had air and light at its top and earthy weight below.

I was especially fascinated by the colors and texture of the ends of the slabs; each was different, as though each was evoking a different landscape. I wish I knew more about the process of fabrication of these works; I imagine much of the surface comes about through the responses of the steel to its manipulation, but how much can be controlled?

A geometric shape emerges amid fluid marks.

This is a partial view of Intervals, made up of 24 plates of varying sizes. If you click to enlarge the image, you will see some of the variation in their surfaces.

I took the two photos above at a Serra show two years ago, which I wrote about here. The two works on view, Junction and Cycle, were the rich reddish browns that I now associate with his curved pieces.

These new grayish works do not have that uncanny shifting space in the walk-through torqued ellipses, but the solid reality of their flat planes asks for a direct response, both physical and visual. In Serra's new pieces the visual demands more attention of us than I've seen it ask before.

A New Painting: "Untitled (Dark Red, Light Blue)"

Untitled (Dark Red, Light Blue), egg tempera on parchment, 6 1/2 x 7 3/4 in.

After doing four geometric paintings, I was ready to work on one in my organic, cloth, series. I have great doubts about this series, about the quality or even the meaning of it, but then I sit down and begin to work and I become very engaged in the process. I enjoy the making of curved surfaces, the illusion of form wrapping, curling, arching, the light flowing around and across. It feels far from geometry making a form like this; there is a sensuousness to it, like caressing a body. The geometric solids of my machine paintings are enticing in a different way, so I imagine I will continue with both aspects of my work.

At the Met: Beautiful Little Bottles

Each bottle in the exhibit "Small Delights: Chinese Snuff Bottles" is a marvel of materials carefully crafted to produce an object of great beauty. The variety of shape and color and material makes this small display of 88 bottles seem much larger and more comprehensive than the subject might seem to offer. But then of course I'm a fan of small work. You can see almost all the pieces in the show at the link in high resolution, very well photographed. If you do so, you'll see that I chose to photograph the simpler pieces since they suit my sensibility.

On left, Snuff Bottle, late 18th - early 19th century; rock crystal with jadeite stopper.

On right, Snuff Bottle, late 18th - early 19th century; amethyst.

On the museum website I learned that snuff, a combination of finely ground tobacco and herbs, was introduced to China by Europeans in the later 17th century; at that time the royal ateliers began to produce snuff bottles. Its use slowly spread throughout Chinese society. These exquisite bottles were highly prized. When I look at these pieces, I am amazed at the way the stone is used in such a sensitive manner so that its characteristics enhance the design.

On left, Snuff Bottle, late 18th - early 19th century; Lapis lazuli with jadeite stopper. 

On right, Snuff Bottle, late 18th - early 19th century; turquoise. 

Some of the materials used were precious, as with lapis and turquoise. 

Snuff Bottle, late 18th century; yellow glass with nephrite stopper.

Even glass was handled in such a way as to make it jewel like.

Snuff Bottle in the Shape of an Octagon, 19th century; red glass with coral stopper.

Although most of the bottles were curving forms, this one has clear geometric lines, its rich color ready to burst out of its confines.

Snuff Bottle with Gold Speckles, late 18th - early 19th century; blue glass with glass stopper.

This piece has the feel of a starry night, with its tiny spoon floating in space.

Snuff Bottle, late 18th century; agate with amethyst quartz stopper.

There is such elegance in the curve of the bottle and the relationship of colors. All of these bottles are quite small, from 2 to 4 inches high. This one is 3 inches.

Snuff Bottle in Simulated Realgar, late 18th century; variegated red glass with turquoise stopper.

Snuff Bottle with Mottled Surface, late 18th - early 19th century; mottled black glass with jadeite stopper. 

The two pieces above have beautifully elongated shapes, and a magical use of glass.

Snuff Bottle with Image of a Tiger, 19th century; chalcedony with malachite stopper.

The natural variation of mineral color is used to great effect here....

Snuff Bottle with Swimming Fish, late 18th century; white glass with ivory and glass stopper. 

....while in this piece a fish is added in green on the white surface.

Snuff Bottle, late 18th - early 19th century; rock crystal with coral and glass stopper.

This is the only bottle that was shown with a woven string for carrying; it enabled me to imagine the bottle in use. I could have spent a very long time looking at these little treasures, discovering more and more wonderful details. Sometimes the simplest of forms can provide deep pleasure.

Varieties of Pond Ice

First ice, October 30

One way I have of watching the season progress, and sometimes regress, is by noticing the changing state of ice on the pond. After a night or two of freezing temperatures, there is a jagged pattern of thin and brittle ice.

November 16

The ice thickened, but in the process its surface bubbled irregularly, catching light as sparkling points, so different from the geometry of earlier ice.

November 18

When the weather isn't too frigid, open water appears around the warm pond plants, offering a circle of reflections.

November 19

Light snow adheres to the broken sea of ice, making dramatic patterns.

November 20

As ice closes in on the dried cattails, the circles of water become smaller dark spots punctuating the snow.

November 27

Then, some warmth and heavy rain, and water floats on top of the icy layer, reflecting trees, a ghostly counterpoint to warm-colored weeds.

November 29

Frozen again into a bubbly surface, the pond is irregularly covered with light snow whose patterns might be a vast arctic landscape in miniature.

Today, December 3

Now the pond is pure white, covered in a thin coat of snow that may or may not remain all winter. Nothing is certain in a Northeast winter; the "January thaw" can bring very mild temperatures and open water again. Or it might happen that snow remains through spring. With all its changes, the weather here is always interesting, and its effects on the landscape beautiful.

New Hooked Wool Drawings

2013 #20, hand dyed wool and egg tempera on linen; 2 panels, each 12 x 8 in.

Every once in a while I'm tempted to make a work using a somewhat silly color and try to make it a little serious. Remember that ridiculously named color in a box of Crayolas, "flesh"? Well, this is a similar warm pink that I thought I'd use for the background color in this diptych. I kinda like how it turned out, with the lines and shapes of blue and green contrasting with the pink, giving it a hazy quality, as of a misty morning sunrise.  

2013 #20, panel 1

2013 #20, panel 2

You can see more of the detail of the piece in the photos of each panel. Like my previous diptychs, this work has curves flowing across the gap, but here there are also straight lines. 

2013 #21, hand dyed wool and egg tempera on linen, 17 x 14 1/2 in.

As of now I have three basic formats for my hooked wool drawings: a centered image, such as in #21, an image filling the entire surface, as below in #22, and the most recent addition of diptychs as above in #20. Each format brings a different kind of expression and form and I enjoy working with them all, so during this session I did one of each. In #21 ovals are nestled within an egg-shaped oval, tilting toward each other. I hope this image isn't too sentimental; egg shapes can be very tricky.

2013 #22, hand dyed wool and egg tempera on linen, 15 x 12 in.

I thought it would be interesting to cut off the triangle rather than include the entire form; maybe it has more energy that way: regular forms, not quite regular; empty but for the overlap. In these hooked wool drawings I enjoy the variation of paint surface and its difference from the hooked wool texture and color, a playful intersection of mediums.

At the Met: Traveling Textiles

Coverlet, Chinese, for the European market, 17th century; silk satin, embroidered with silk and gilt-paper-wrapped thread; 84 x 79 in. Detail. See the entire work here in high resolution.

All images in this post are from the museum's website. 

If you are interested in textiles, in the history of trade, or in aesthetic qualities such as pattern, color, inventive design, and craftsmanship, the current show at the Metropolitan Museum of Art Interwoven Globe: The Worldwide Textile Trade, 1500-1800 is a treasure trove to be explored. At the link, the Met has generously provided a website where you can browse the entire show and see most of the objects in high resolution. I was delighted by the show, by the intricacy and quality of the work, by the charm and beauty in the smallest details. Although I saw the show through a mainly aesthetic lens, the aim of the curators was to show how design ideas traveled across continents, with East and West influencing each other in their trade goods. For instance, in this coverlet, the central motif (which you can see at the link above) is a traditional Chinese one of two dragons. But the details of hunters, such as one I've included above, show them dressed in European clothing. The delicacy and refinement of the embroidered animals and flowers are stunning. The borders of the coverlet (see the hi res version) are gorgeously imagined, with flowing lines of feathers and stems.

Hanging with Triumphal Arch, India for the Portuguese market, 17th century; silk satin embroidered with silk, 105.1 x 83.1 in. Detail. See the entire work here in high resolution.

This Indian textile is very different in its monochromatic style, but similar in its flowing and fanciful border of flowers and animals. The central image is of a triumphal arch built for the entry of Spain's Philip II's entry into Lisbon. The Indian makers of this textile copied the design from a Portuguese book of 1622.

Quilt, Southern Europe, 17th century; silk with cotton filling, 101.5 x 87 in. Detail

See the entire work here in high resolution.

At the center of this remarkably detailed quilt is a three-masted sailing ship, a celebration of Europe's mastery of the oceans. From the Met's website I learned that this piece is similar to Bengali bedcovers, so illustrates that there was a fertilization of ideas back and forth, East to West. I couldn't help thinking, as I viewed this show, that our current outsourcing of manufacturing, especially of textiles, is nothing new; it has been going on for hundreds of years.

Length of "Bizarre" Silk, France or Italy, 1700-1710; silk satin, brocaded, silk and metal-wrapped thread; 97 x 43 in. Detail. See the entire work here in high resolution. 

Doesn't this piece of fabric look contemporary? maybe early 20th century or Art Deco? but no, these "bizarre" silks were produced in the early 18th century and their designs were influenced by Middle Eastern patterns. A surprising and amazing piece.

Double-sided Hanging, China for the European market, second half of 18th cent; silk satin embroidered with silk, 95 1/4 x 87 1/4 in. Detail. See the entire work here in high resolution. 

This hanging is a sumptuous object, its silk glittering, its embroidery incredibly fine....and it was as beautiful on its other side, on red silk instead of yellow. (See the second side at the link above.) When I looked at works in the show with incredibly elaborate and refined embroidery, I wondered about the making of them: did several women (and it was most likely women who made them) work on a single piece or was it several at once? were they made in the home or in a "manufacturing" center? how long did it take to produce something like this? There are no answers to questions like these from the exhibition wall labels; maybe we have no answers so many hundreds of years later as to the social culture around the making of these luxury goods. One of my sisters, who has worked in the textile industry, was disappointed in the exhibition because there were no explanations of techniques used. The curators were focused on their ideas about cross-fertilization of design ideas and didn't give us much other information.

Bedcover, India, Gujarat for the English market, 18th century; cotton, embroidered with silk; 100 x 122 in. Detail

For me, though, the joy of the show was in the beauty of so many of the objects on display. The flowing lines of vine, the exotic animals and flowers, are a pleasure to see.

Wall Panel with Garden Urns, China, for European market, late 18th century; silk taffeta, painted and printed, 78 x 43 in. Detail. See the entire work here in high resolution. 

In these decorative patterns there's a sense of the sheer love of creation, an attention to details of nature that celebrate life. A panel like this would have graced a "Chinese room" in a European country house. How wonderful it must have been to be surrounded by these images.

Shawl (Rebozo), Mexico, late 18th cent; silk embroidered with cotton, silk, and metal-wrapped thread; 30.5 x 93.7 in. Detail. See the entire work here in high resolution. 

There were also textiles from North America in the show. This Mexican shawl has charming depictions of people strolling, riding, and boating in a Mexico City park, Xochimilco. European influence intrudes in the depiction of a table and chairs, in the clothing, and in the Jesuit priest seen again and again among the figures.

Coverlet, Ruth Culver Coleman (died 1801), United States, Sag Harbor, NY; linen and wool, embroidered; 80 3/4 x 95 5/8 in. Detail. See the entire work here in high resolution, along with many detail images. 

It was wonderful to see a couple of American works whose maker is known or surmised. So here I know that one woman made this exceptional coverlet, gorgeously embroidered. She must have made it in her home on eastern Long Island, inspired by designs she'd seen on imported printed cottons.

Coverlet, Ruth Culver Coleman, detail

According to the museum website, the blue flowers along the border, with multiple flowers from a single stem, came from Iranian and Turkish textile design. Coleman was probably unaware of the origins of her patterns. 

Coverlet, Ruth Culver Coleman, detail

This third image from the Coleman coverlet gives you a better idea of the embroidery technique that she used. If you click to enlarge the image, you can see the stitches more clearly. This detail is quite marvelous.

Coverlet, probably Sarah Furman Warner Williams (born 1764), United States, New York, New York; linen and cotton, 103 1/4 x 90 1/2 in. Detail. See the entire work here in high resolution. 

Another marvel by a named maker is this complex appliquéd coverlet by Sarah Williams of New York City. It was made as a wedding present and has a version of the Indian Tree of Life at its center.

Coverlet, probably Sarah Furman Warner Williams. Detail

Along with the exotic birds and flowers is a sweet depiction of a shepherd with his flock, children at play, and a man offering a bird and cage to a woman. So much of the pleasure of seeing these works is in their physical presence, the sense of the hand at work, the evidence of the care and precision of that hand. Which is to say that a photograph gives only a pale idea of the excitement I felt at this show, but it will have to suffice.