Hello from a golden world! While I was in ecstasy, walking and drawing,
First was my illustration to accompany an essay on grits by Margaret Locklair in the Fall 2016 issue of Charleston Style and Design. This was a playful piece and I hope my illustration expresses that sense of play.
This is the third piece by Margaret Locklair I've illustrated for CS&D.
Here's the essay from the digital copy of the magazine:
My second print appearance this month was a photo essay in Walter Magazine; Raleigh's Life and Soul, on my garden, with more photos and the accompanying text written by yours truly.
Here's my essay:
By Laura Frankstone
If my garden could talk, you would hear mostly French, with traces of North and South Carolina-inflected English.
I lived in France for three years as a young child; the shapes and patterns of that country’s elegant formal gardens became imprinted in my heart. This was, as far as I could tell, the way things grew.
In my grandmother’s garden in Charlotte, luscious gardenias and glowing panicles of snowball bushes thrilled me to my core. Her verdant oval of lawn studded by white iron glider benches and chairs was my one constant in a childhood of frequent moves, the dislocations of a military family’s life.
My mother-in-law’s Charleston courtyard garden was proof that formal design could live happily in an intimate setting. There grew a deft mix of herbs, flowers, and ferns, with graceful seating for conversation.
My garden’s French accent has grown stronger over the years, with many visits to France. A pilgrimage I made to le Jardin Agapanthe in Normandy, the gardens of brilliant garden designer Alexandre Thomas, was especially transformative, showing me you can use traditional French garden motifs in free and fresh ways.
My garden tells many stories, those of an artist-gardener who plants for texture, color, and shape, more than from horticultural considerations. It tells stories of my daughter’s wedding, rehearsal parties, receptions, countless dinners, and birthday celebrations of children and grandchildren. It tells the story of 3 a.m. meteor showers, seen from two outdoor lounge chairs given to me expressly for the purpose of stargazing.
What those other gardens told me, and what my garden says, is that in order and beauty, there is comfort. Life provides enough pyrotechnics. Let our gardens give us peace, space for reverie, and delight.
I am now in re-entry mode from the Wales trip (and the Alaska trip, if I'm to be honest!) and will continue to process those experiences physically, through my work, and emotionally, too.
I will post sketches from Wales in the next days.