Art and the Economy

I suppose it’s no surprise that artists and art facilities have, like so many sectors, been hard-hit by The Great Recession. It’s never been easy to be an artist, given that the purchasing of our work generally falls under the heading of discretionary spending – at least for most buyers. In addition artists with gallery representation often have to turn over as much as half of the selling price of their work to the gallery that sold it for them – and then never know who purchased the piece. While the majority of galleries seemed to open their doors based on the naive belief that “if you build it, they will come”, there have always been a stalwart few “good” galleries that understood the true nature of selling art and representing artists with fairness and honesty. The trick was in sorting them out. But these problems simply came with the territory.

However, I believe the times they are a-changin’.

Of late, I’m getting a sense that even respected, well-managed and financially stable art facilities – those that had managed to hang on until now – are being forced to face reality. For example, it was recently announced that a major private gallery – the Delavan Gallery – in Syracuse, New York has closed its doors this month, due in part to financial reasons – after seven successful (by all accounts) years in business. Similarly, I received an email announcing that the historic Barnsite art facility in Wisconsin has been put up for sale in order to avoid foreclosure.  Closer to home, the Arts Guild of Old Forge, NY has been struggling to find a way to resume construction on its new building, which ground to a halt at about the time the wheels came off the economic bus back in 2008. And I know of previously full-time, “name” artists who have had to return to 9-to-5, W2 employment (not an easy feat with unemployment running at around 10% – kudos to them!) because art sales have ground to a near standstill.

I’m certainly no economist but I have been reading for a while now that we are heading for a Japanese-style “lost decade” here in the US. Early on in the recession, there was speculation as to whether we’d have a ‘W’, ‘V’, ‘U’, or ‘L-shaped” recovery (those letters mimicking the possible shape of the graph as the economy bottomed out and then began to turn around). If memory serves, the ‘L’ is a picture of a “lost decade”. In other words, the economy tanks and then bumbles along at a “new normal” low and never really bounces back up again.

But what is “up”? Is “up” back into the bubble? You know the bubble – the rat-race where rampant consumerism paid for with easy credit and liar’s loans deluded us into thinking the party was going to go on forever? Is that really what we want to go back to?

I’m sure some people do: people for whom lots of “stuff” equals status and accomplishment and some sort of perverse “score”. But I don’t. That lifestyle is simply not economically or environmentally sustainable either for us or for future generations. Given that we live on a finite planet, the party couldn’t have continued indefinitely anyway, so the sooner we get real on this the easier it will be for us to pick up the pieces and move on. (Among those who really need to get this are the politicians – all of them, regardless of stripe, who need to grow a spine and level with us that the party is indeed over instead of blowing through billions so we can pretend it’s not.)

But what does all this mean for art and artists? Although my crystal ball is a bit dim these days, I strongly suspect that the brick-and-mortar gallery system – the one that’s existed for a couple of centuries now, where artists consign their work, the gallery hangs and (hopefully) sells it and then pays the artist somewhere between 40 – 60% of the selling price – is a dying paradigm. It isn’t going to disappear overnight but my sense is that this system will eventually go the way of the dodo bird. I think it will be replaced by artists selling individually, largely online, and dealing one-on-one with their buyers, collectors, and customers by themselves. Fortunately, the internet has really leveled the playing field and I think in coming years we’ll begin to appreciate just how much.

What this means for a lot of us, however, is that we’ll have to learn some new skills – skills that we had previously left to the galleries. None of this will happen due to any rebellious intent on the part of artists; rather I think it will be a natural consequence of the old system becoming increasingly unsustainable. If, in a stagnant economy, art prices stay depressed (relative to the “bubble”) the old 50/50 or 60/40 split just won’t provide enough income to either party to cover their expenses. Galleries have always had the advantage in this situation, as they generally represent many artists – each representing an additional “income stream” to keep the gallery afloat. For the artist though, it’s a lot harder to develop multiple income sources, because – depending on their style – it can be very difficult to produce enough work to supply more than one or two galleries.

Unlike the sputtering gallery system however, I believe art organizations will persist and maybe even grow in stature – especially if society is forced to relocalize in response to dwindling oil supplies. As schools continue to feel the financial pinch, local arts organizations may be called upon to step in and fill some of the gaps created by cancelled public school art and music programs. These facilities will also continue to provide artists with exhibition space and give collectors an opportunity to see works in person.

Although I’m very aware of the many unemployed who are suffering through The Great Recession, I do believe they will eventually find their way out, and that a “lost decade” may ultimately be seen as a blessing in disguise. It may bring a welcome return to frugality, community and happiness, in addition to a continued braking of the runaway consumption freight train; something that is guaranteed to be better for the environment.

Just before the bubble burst in 2008, David Suzuki wrote:

People are working harder and harder to amass more money and material wealth, yet the evidence is clear that this is a fool’s quest, providing little or no additional happiness while undermining the qualities that make life worthwhile. American happiness has declined since 1957, despite people earning more than twice as much money (in real terms)…Social scientists confirm what many people already understand: happiness comes not from money but from relationships, community, trust, and having a sense of purpose in life. The activities that are most likely to create happiness – time spent with family and friends, outdoor activities, sports, music, literature, dance, theatre and all manner of artistic endeavors, creative hobbies, and lifelong education – generally have modest ecological impacts.

Sounds a lot nicer to me than a trapped rat racing around in a bubble!

Want realism? Here’s the one big mistake to avoid

I’m assuming here that you would like to paint or draw realistically – that is, you want your subjects to look as much like real life as possible (not necessarily photographic, but pretty darned real). If that’s the case, then there’s one big thing you must not put in your work.

Ready?

Do not put an outline around your subject or anything else in your image.

Why? Well, let’s think about this. Wherever you are at this minute, as you read this post, look around you. Pay attention to where things meet or overlap each other. For instance, let’s say there’s a table across the room. It’s sitting there with a chair behind it and the wall behind that. Stare at it for a few minutes and then ask yourself: Do you see any outlines around the table? The chair? The lamp that’s sitting on the table?

The answer is, of course, no. There are no outlines around anything that exists in the room with you. The world is not constructed like a coloring book, with thick black lines outlining everything. If that’s the case then, and you want to have the things you draw and paint look like real life, then do not outline.

The obvious question is then, what do you do instead when you go to draw or paint something like, say, a still life? How would you separate the table from the chair from the lamp? Well then, here’s another question for you. Why can you see the table separated from the chair and the lamp?

The most basic answer is light. Without light, it’s…well, it’s dark, and you can’t see anything. But with light, you can see not only the color of these objects, but the form and the surface character as well. You can see that the top of the table is flat, the lampshade is round, and so on. You can see the planes of the objects change in value (lightness or darkness) as they turn away from or toward the light. All these things in total then, allow you to see the edges.

Aha! Edges! That’s it then. Edges, not outlines.

Next question then…why can you see the edges?

(The answer has little to do with color, by the way.)

The most basic answer is that you can see an edge because there’s a change of value that allows the edge to be seen. Sometimes it’s due to a change of plane, like on a cube. The different sides and the top of the cube will be clearly visible. These planes will all have a different value because they are in a different relationship to the light source. Where one value abuts another is where an edge is formed. Change of plane = change of value.

If the background behind the cube is quite dark, and our cube is light, then there will be value contrasts around all the edges of the cube as well. To go back to our table, if the table is a dark wood and the wall behind it is a light color, then we have a light value contrasting with the dark of the table. Again, edges. Not outlines.

Now, I said earlier that the answer has little to do with color. What I meant by that is that color is not how you show edges. Value is. Two colors may have very different values; for instance a dark “navy” blue next to a pale pink. The blue is a dark value and the pink is a light value. So if you have a pink rose against a navy blue cloth, you’re certainly going to be able to see the edges of that rose. But suppose you’re painting a medium blue ball sitting on a medium green rug? Now the two values are very close. The ball will have a light side and a shadow side (plus a cast shadow), but since the local colors of the two items are quite close in value, you’re going to have a trickier time getting that blue ball to attract attention and not blend into the background. Keep in mind that if you are working in black in white, in a medium like pencil, ink wash, pen and ink or scratchboard, you have no choice but to think purely in terms of values. Even when you’re working in color, values trump color. Values show plane changes. Values show edges. Color is pretty much beside the point.

Now, having said all this, outlines can sometimes be interesting additions to a drawing or painting. They can accentuate and stylize an image, but they should always be used for a purpose and not simply as a crutch because you can’t figure out a way to make the edge show. Always ask yourself why you can see the edge. What’s darker? What’s lighter? Then paint or draw what you see. If you really have a reason to add some accentuating outlines, then do so after you’ve established the edges, planes and form with values.

And of course, a light outline or “map”, showing the basic shape of the objects you’ll be rendering is fine and a useful tool. In fact, that’s how you should think of outlines – as tools to get the drawing or painting laid out. But when all is said and done, these outlines should be nowhere to be found.

Always think values, not outlines.

Bug bit and sunburned

“En plein air” is French for painting “in the open air”, although I sometimes think a better translation would be “bug bit and sunburned”. The trick with plein air painting is to minimize unnecessary detail because you have to paint fast. On a sunny day, you have about two hours to complete a painting before the light changes so much you’re literally not painting the same picture any more. Early or late in the day, you have less time as the light and shadows move even faster. For this reason, most plein air paintings are quite small – often only 8″ x 10″ or less.

There are many different plein air painting setups available in the various art supply catalogs and websites. One of the primary considerations for an artist who wishes to work outside is how to efficiently pack and carry all the paints, brushes, palette, canvases or panels, mineral spirits, etc. that are required for any painting session, indoors or out. Some sort of “easel” – a means of propping up your painting canvas in order to work on it, is also necessary. Self-contained French easels are very common, but seem a bit more cumbersome than I was willing to deal with so I opted for an Open Box M palette/panel holder that mounts on a photographer’s tripod.

Landscape painting directly from life is an excellent way to learn what nature really looks like. Originally, working outside from life was how artists of centuries past gathered reference material for their big studio paintings. These days, plein air painting has become almost a bit of a fad, and for some artists is the only sort of painting they do. My goals are a bit different, so I consider these to be little art lessons I give myself. I wish I could get out and paint more often.

Framing tips for the uninitiated

If you own some unframed art and are a little intimidated about how to go about making it presentable, then you need to check out my e-report, The Art of Framing Art. It won’t teach you how to do the job yourself; instead, it’s intended as a guide for folks who aren’t sure of the process involved in framing a piece of art. After all, it’s not the sort of thing we do every day, and if you’ve never had something framed, you won’t know there are certain things required for a good job.

The Art of Framing Art is absolutely free. I hope you find it useful.

Minimalism for Artists?

“Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.” – William Morris (1834-1896), central figure in the Arts & Crafts movement.

Artists, by nature, seem to be clutter-bugs; a lot of us tend to be savers. Most of the right-brained creative-types I know are very interested in many topics, love to read, and save all manner of interesting things including magazine articles (or heck, whole magazines!), newspaper clippings, and of course, books. This is all in addition to the usual stuff that is part and parcel of the artists’ trade. It would not be unusual to walk into the average studio and see frazzled brushes, jars of dried paint mixtures, and stacks of failed paintings lying around among the newer, still usable materials and successful works.

Why are artists such pack rats? And is there a cure?

As you’ve probably guessed by now, I count myself among the pack-ratters, although it’s not something I’m particularly proud of. It just seems that once I’ve spent some hard-earned money on some item or supplies, I should keep it whether it turns out to be useful or not. I guess that’s my frugal side talking. All my attempts at clutter-clearing (successful or otherwise) are always accompanied by a certain amount of guilt and that little voice saying, “But you might need it someday!”

Clutter certainly isn’t limited to only artists. One of my favorite TV shows (back when I got the all the cable channels) was HGTV’s Mission: Organization. Fortunately, my Dad once pointed out that if I was the only one that had this problem, they wouldn’t make whole TV series about how to deal with it. That did make me feel a bit better.

Clutter is, of course, a real problem. It makes it hard to find things. It makes it very difficult to clean the house. It inhibits work and creativity. It costs you money. It even makes it hard to think.

They say that people who live with clutter operate on the CHAOS principle: Can’t Have Anyone Over Syndrome.

Yep. That’s not too far from the truth.

While I do believe that some people (and probably a few artists even!) are just naturally gifted in the orderliness department, for the rest of us it seems to be something we have to learn. I suspect that everyone has to find some means of tackling this on their own terms. (Some have had success with the Flylady. I lasted less than a day. It seemed a bit much: incessent emails simply cluttered up my Inbox and drove me batty. Oops. Get organized by way of email clutter? Not the technique for me!)

In truth, I can tell you that I have been sloooowly honing my decluttering and organizational skills in recent years, but of late, my studio area had gotten bad enough that it’s been an impediment to doing any art. Reaching that point is probably different for different people; if you’re an artist, you probably know exactly what I’m talking about. At any rate, something had to give – or rather, a bunch of stuff just had to go.

One technique that I’ve learned really does work for me is the total clear-out. I pick an area – in this case, my drawing table and taboret – and completely clear it. I emptied the drawers, the shelves, cleared off the top. Put all that stuff on the other side of the room where I could sort through it. Then I dusted, vacuumed, and scrubbed both the table and the taboret until they were pristine.

Aaaahhhhhhhh. Nice.

I then began sorting and I only put back the things I wanted or that needed to be in or on my taboret and drawing table. The rest of the stuff (particularly art materials I no longer use) got boxed and put in the car. Some got thrown away. Some will be given away. I cleared out enough stuff that I’m now even able to get rid of two cheesy 3-drawer plastic wheeled storage carts that had been flanking the table. Woot!

However, I’m still left with the magazines.

Sigh.

My big bugaboo is magazines. I see magazines as sort of serialized books. They cost me money. They have interesting information in them. They have pictures. The same stuff isn’t always available online. I have a very, very hard time getting rid of magazines.

I’m not sure what sort of mindset allows a budding minimalist artist to dump their magazines, though. I need that mindset, whatever it is.

Minimalism you say?

I’ve been reading about minimalism lately. This is, apparently, the art of living with minimal things in your life. It’s about living deliberately, about only keeping those things that are useful or beautiful and have meaning for you. It’s about getting rid of the stuff that distracts and stands in the way of the life you want. It’s the antithesis of the North American affliction of mindless consumption, “he who dies with the most toys wins”, and keeping up with the Joneses. I like the concept. It seems to relate to voluntary simplicity, frugality and “enoughness”, all of which have a lot of appeal for me. I don’t know that I’d take minimalism to extremes like over at Rowdy Kittens, choosing to live with just 100 (or fewer!) things in my life. I think I’d be more into “rational minimalism” as practiced by Josh Becker at Becoming Minimalist. But minimalism in some form is kind of attractive to me in a “less is more” kind of way.

So I wonder, is it possible for an artist  – with all our art supplies, framing materials, shipping supplies, office stuff, reference materials, books, magazines, and other inspirations – to be  minimalist?

Happy vernal equinox!

Black marks on white paper

Although I now focus mostly on oil painting, I have worked in just about every medium possible over the years. Pencil, pen & ink, scratchboard, pastel, watercolor, colored pencil, mixed media…you name it, and I’ve worked with it. So, I  thought it might be nice – for the beginners out there – to outline some of the fundamentals of pen and ink.

Pen and ink is a very basic medium, consisting of black ink marks on white paper. It’s based on a simple premise – that the ratio of marks-to-paper is what creates the illusion of light and dark values. Whereas with pencil, a dark area will be completely covered, in pen and ink the area would consist of many black marks on the white paper. It’s the density of the marks that makes the area read as a given value of optical gray.

What sort of pen?
There are a couple of options for creating the black ink marks. Traditionally, pen & ink was done with a “dip pen”, consisting of a pointed nib at the end of some sort of handle. Originally these where made from bird feathers, and were called quill pens. Today they’re made from metal and come in kits with a plastic handle to hold the nib. The ink is held in the nib by capillary action which works fine unless the nib is overloaded, in which case drips and blobs would ruin the drawing. The nib has a split tip that would spread slightly under pressure, allowing the ink line to flow from thin to thick within each mark as the artist worked. This thin-to-thick aspect is referred to as a calligraphic line, in reference to the old art of calligraphy.

Today we also have technical pens which consist of a nib that’s a small hollow tube with a very fine needle mechanism inside to control the rate of ink flow. The nib is attached to a plastic ink reservoir so there’s no longer any need to dip and draw, dip and draw. Tech pen nibs come in a range of sizes, but for detailed work, #0 or #00 is good.

The inconvenience of constantly dipping a dip pen is offset by the calligraphic line it produces, which adds a lot more “personality” and visual richness to the drawing.

On the other hand, the convenience of the tech pen is offset by the monotony of the single-width line it produces. Whatever size nib you’ve chosen will determine the width of every single mark in the drawing. It’s theoretically possible to work with a number of sizes in the same drawing, but in actual practice would look awkward because of the abrupt stopping and starting between thin and thick. If you really want to vary the line thickness, it would be easier to simply work with a dip pen.

Drawing Inks & Cleaning
If you’re working with a dip pen, you want to use an appropriate ink – often referred to as “India ink”. You can dip directly from the bottle or pour out a small amount of ink into a dish to dip into while you work. I prefer the latter method, as there’s less risk of spilling the bottle, plus you don’t get as much air drying of ink residue on the insides of the bottle, which can create little bits of sediment which can, over time, “contaminate” your ink.

Tech pens require specially made inks so that pen clogging is minimized. If your tech pen goes a long time between uses, clogging (and then cleaning) is almost inevitable. Most tech pen kits come with a small bottle of cleaner (along with ink) made especially for this purpose. Fancy ultrasonic pen cleaners are available as well.

Making changes
Pen and ink isn’t erasable. You might be able to scratch out a small stray mark with an X-acto blade but you would not be able to redraw in that area because of the damaged paper surface. If the piece is to be framed and hung on a wall, you’d avoid making any changes that would show up as damaged paper. White-out is also a dubious choice. It never matches the original paper in either sheen or color so sticks out like a sore thumb.

The best way to avoid mistakes, then, is to build up your darks and middle values slowly – you can always add another layer of marks but you can’t take them away. Progress around the drawing and develop all areas at once, rather than “finishing” one area and then realizing later – after you can see the values in the rest of the drawing in comparison – that you’ve made it too dark.

Here’s a sampling of the different techniques I used on a pen and ink drawing of a Golden Retriever puppy. (If he looks familiar, this was the design that was used on one of the Golden Retriever Club of America’s annual Christmas ornaments a few years back.) You can get an idea how it’s possible to work with different combinations of long- and short parallel line work as well as cross-hatching to develop the different planes and values in a drawing.

Mark Making
So what kind of “marks” can you use? Most commonly, pen and ink consists of parallel line work. The lines might have a wobbly or wispy feel (which might denote wood grain or grassy texture) or be built in angled layers – called crosshatching – to create a uniformity of rendering appropriate for describing a smoother surface. For the beginner, “hairy” things like shaggy animals are a good choice as shaggy fur is a natural for pen and ink.

Other textural options include short line work as well as dots. This “dot technique” is called stipple and takes a very long time. Beginners are often attracted to stipple because it offers maximum control when building up darks – one dot at a time. However you can’t “rush” dots. I’ve seen people try it and as the artist either started losing patience or running out of time, the dots get sloppy and turn into dashes or check-marks. I have seen some truly beautiful work done in stipple but if you decide to try it, be aware that it’s an extremely time-consuming technique.

Paper
Pen and ink needs to be done on a smooth surfaced paper or illustration board, labeled as having a “hot press” or “high” finish. A textured board or cold press surface will interfere with the line quality and also has a tendency to clog the nib with paper fibers.

8 Tips for trying a new art medium

If you’re a beginning artist who has always wanted to try a new medium, but aren’t sure what to do or where to start, here’s some help. You can overcome the intimidation factor by keeping the following in mind:

1. Research. Do some background reading on the medium you’re interested in. Find out what tools and materials you’ll need. If you have access to one, visit a good art store and ask lots of questions.
2. Buy the best quality materials you can afford – you’ll find there’s a HUGE difference in quality from one to the next, and generally you do get what you pay for. If at all possible, avoid “student” grade art supplies. These are generally made from cheaper ingredients and materials, so they don’t handle as well or as easily as the professional grade materials. I understand that money is often an issue – especially if you are a student – but it’s so easy to conclude that you “hate” a certain medium when the reality is that you’re simply “fighting” your cheap materials. Consider your art supplies to be an investment in your talent and don’t sell yourself short any more than necessary.
3. Take on an experimental mentality. You need to be serious about this but not so wedded to the outcome that you’ll quit in disgust after your first less-than-stellar piece. Your intent is to learn how the medium behaves, how the colors mix, how the brushes handle. Let the medium teach you. You will likely find that some parts of your experiments are incredibly frustrating, while others are quite successful. If you’re disappointed in your attempt, it doesn’t mean you’ve failed, just that you’ve now gotten some good information on what not to do next time!
4. Persevere. Every painting will teach you. If you’re really interested in becoming good in a medium, every “failed” painting is precisely the tool you need to improve on the next one. Although there is no such thing as a perfect painting (drawing, sculpture, etc.), you will eventually reach a high level of proficiency but only if you persist at working with your medium and trying to make each piece better than the last. Remember what Vincent VanGogh said:  “In spite of everything I shall rise again: I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing.”
   
5. Think small. Don’t take on monumental pieces for your early attempts. Any time you’re experimenting, I think it’s always better to work small so that you can stay in control. For example, perfect flat washes in watercolor are tricky. So it’s much easier to control a wash in a small area of sky on a quarter-sheet than it would be if you decided to go for the whole enchilada on a full sheet.
6. Think simple. Don’t pick an elaborate subject or one with masses of fine detail or many figures or hundreds of tile roofs. Look for a subject with simple, bold masses of light and shade where you’ll be able to easily work with the value structure. Much better to successfully experiment with a simple subject, so that you’re encouraged to continue with that medium, than to quit in frustration because you were simply overwhelmed with the subject matter.
7. Think familiar. Pick a subject you know well – so that you’re not learning both your medium AND your subject at the same time. For me, my first attempts at any medium was always a simple equine subject so I could concentrate on getting that medium to give me the effects and qualities I had previously achieved with other media. I’d drawn or painted horses a zillion times since I was five, so it was always the logical choice for me.
8. Don’t forget to have fun, too!

Feelin' kinda cool with my peas in the ground!

Peas in the ground,
Peas in the ground,
Feelin’ kinda cool with my peas in the ground!

(Whaddya think? Am I ready for American Idol?)

Thanks to my cold frame, I planted peas today. I was reminded that it’s only March 9 here in central NY (zone 4b) by the snow still covering most of the garden but lately we’ve been having quite a run of sunny spring-like weather. (Now that the sun is higher in the sky, I have to remember to vent the frame or it will be 75 – 80 degrees inside.) So today was a great day to open it up, clean out the plants that had succumbed to the cold and get started with some new things for spring. Here’s a view showing what survived – spinach, carrots, claytonia, mache (corn salad), and some pretty cold hardy lettuce.

To make room for the peas, I harvested any plants that were growing within six inches or so of the edge of the frame. Here’s the result – tonight’s salad greens, waiting to be washed (see the itty-bitty carrots in there?).

According to my guide in this adventure, The Four Season Harvest by Eliot Coleman, now’s the time to put peas in along the back (taller) wall of the cold frame. By the time the seedlings have reached the top covers, the weather will be warm enough that I won’t need to close the frame completely, and I’ll be able to put in a makeshift fence for them to climb. I should be able to just keep raising the back edges of the windows until I remove them completely for the summer.

After today’s clean-out, there’s room for some short rows of fresh plantings of lettuce, chard, radishes, and other spring greens. In another couple of weeks, I will also start some seeds in pots for later transplanting elsewhere in the garden. Tomatoes and peppers and a few other things will still have to be started inside under grow lights though but these will eventually be hardened off in the cold frame prior to being transplanted to their permanent garden home. I will also be planting more snap peas, plus regular (shell) and snow peas in the open beds after the snow is gone. I only put in this 12’ row of Sugar Ann snap peas today to get a jump on one of the great delicacies of the spring season.

It was very pleasant working in the garden for the first time this year. There was no wind, the robins and mourning doves were singing, the wild turkeys were squabbling and the sun was shining. What could be better?

Nature's color harmonies

It’s funny how things sometimes happen in concert. Last night I cooked up some purple cauliflower. It was on sale this week, so I thought I’d try it. I have no idea what particular variety of cauliflower it is, but raw, it’s a pretty lavender color.

Cooked however…well, that was a different story. I assumed it would whiten or lighten but instead it turned indigo. Not altogether appetizing in fact.

But to an artist’s eye, the color was amazing and the cooking water even more so.

The water color could best be described as thalo blue-green and I thought to myself that it would probably make a wonderful plant dye, even though I know absolutely nothing about such things.

I didn’t give it much more thought however, until this morning when I stumbled upon the fascinating Ecologicalartist’s Weblog. It’s crammed with beautiful natural color harmonies, all in the form of dyed fibers, all taken directly from nature’s palette. Here’s one photograph from the site.

The sweater is made from yarn colored with dyes made from the coffeeberry plant. The other yarns are also colored with naturally made dyes. In fact, the whole focus of the blog and the Ecological Arts website are the wonderful variations possible from plant-based dyes, especially those made from native plants. (The photography is beautiful as well.)

What struck me about this picture is how beautifully all the colors harmonize. That is – despite the wide variation in the yarn colors – they all look good together. They don’t clash. They don’t make your eyes water. They’re different from each other, yet somehow perfectly related.

This is so true of nature as a whole. Nature’s colors always harmonize. They always look good together.

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