Paper Landscape Studies & Textile Landscapes
- vmramshur
- Jun 2
- 5 min read
Updated: Jun 6
Before I ever stitched or wove, I began with color.
As the year winds down, I am continuing to share some of the many projects and paths followed this sabbatical, paths shaped by paper, thread, and imagination.

Finding My Way Through Color, Memory, and Material
Color matching and examining historical color palettes is a passion of mine. Using paint chips and other color source materials for this a practice I picked up in graduate school. My professor, the ever brilliant Lowell Detweiler, introduced it as a way to sharpen the eye and really see color in various contexts. I’ve carried that habit with me ever since. Today, I have expanded the idea and use it with my own design students as a starting point, a way to begin seeing deeply into the world of color.
It’s a deceptively simple method: isolate a color, then ask what it’s doing. How does it sit next to others? How does it shift in different light? What does it feel like? How does it change in tint, tone or shade throughout history?
The Color Table

I spread out dozens of paint chips (thanks to the local hardware and home supply chain they are FREE) across a long white table and leave them there for days. I walk past with my morning cofffee, stroll by later in the day with a cup of tea. Just observing,maybe moving a few chips from one side of the table to the other. As the light changes and my mood shifts, so does the way I see the colors. Warm whites start to feel cool. Grays take on lavender tones. Dusty mauves turn moody or luminous depending on the hour.
Suddenly I’m asking:
Is this gray warm or cool?
How many kinds of white are there?
Why does this yellow feel Mediterranean, and that one Midwestern?
It’s slow, meditative work. But it trains the eye to truly observe how color holds memory, light, emotion, and place. I then start cutting in random shapes, arranging and creating palettes, scenarios, and narratives.
Overview of the Artwork
Above are sixty of the hundreds of miniature abstracts i built up in this process, each measuring 1.5" by 1.5", are inspired by memories and travel photographs. These small pieces evoke the essence of both landscapes and cityscapes, and the material culture of places. They capture, for me, the beauty and diversity of different environments.
Another aspect of this exercise involves inquiring about how others perceive, remember, and name colors (see blog post "Colors of Place – Palettes, Patterns, and Identities Across Cultures"). Visitors who dropped by the house on any given day were asked questions and given a tour of the table to select colors that resonated with their memories of environments and places. Below are the recollections from one such exercise.

Progressing Towards Developing Real Scenarios and Memory Mapping Using Materials

Urban Views, "Istanbul",
That visual practice of sorting, sensing, and making meaning, became the foundation of a series of Paper Landscapes and Textile Collage Landscapes. Thinking about how we remember places, not just through photos, but through sensations:
The glow of a market at dusk
The temperature of a breeze on your skin
The sharp light bouncing off stone in Istanbul
The moody blue of water at twilight in Venice
My process begins with text, a nod to my theatrical background, as the clues are always embedded there. Next, I consider images and source materials, such as objects, photos, and pamphlets anything collected on the journey. Then, I move on to paint chips. I experimented with watercolor paint, but it couldn't quite capture the weight of memory; it felt too transient and elusive. I appreciated the tangible weight of the paint chips, but even they didn't fully engage me—so it was natural for me to transition to fabric. Textiles have always resonated with me.
Coordinating colors with the Turkish Lira to craft abstract color narratives, stone walls, bricks, etc...
The day begins in Istanbul with vibrant colors and rich flavors at breakfast.

Three pieces with different levels of abstraction: "City of Marble," "Haseki's Secret," "Coastal Mountains."
Painting with Fabric
By stitching and gluing remnants, scraps, and textile samples gathered over years of design work, or swatches from different productions, a sense of clarity emerged. Fabric possesses presence. It carries stories. It retains the memory of touch.
Even the smallest swatch carries something: a history, a texture, a time.
Each piece became a brushstroke:
A layer of translucent silk suggested morning haze
Rough linen evoked stone
Nubby wool conjured farmlands and mountainsides
A splash of gold trim caught the sun on water
I started to view this work not merely as collage, but as painting with fabric.
Research spans from left to right on the waters of the Venetian Lagoon, covering Night and Day, and ultimately in fabric.


Cartography of Emotion
Certain compositions are gestural, while others tend more towards figuration. All are anchored in location and emotion. I wasn't striving for replication of geography; I was conveying the experience of being there. Not just an 'impression" but of a deeper unnamed connection. Elements like museum postcards, currency designs, food textures, a garment seen in a crowd, an overheard language all contributed to the compositions. This evolved into a unique form of mapmaking: a cartography of memory, atmosphere, and emotion.
Various times of day in Konvale Valley in Croatia and the ever present Cypress Trees.
A Practice of Return
This year, I’ve found myself circling back to the same ideas again and again: texture, color, light, memory, protection, identity and projection and presentation as a way of orienting myself both in my work and in the world.
Some pieces resemble maps. Some evoke landscapes. Others resist recognition entirely. But all of them carry something familiar. Something that feels like somewhere I’ve been, even if I can’t name it.

Cityscapes, Left: "Split", Right: "Venice"

Final Thought
Paint chips. Watercolor. Fabric.
These are some of my tools. They are not only for creating, but also for recalling, composing, and guiding me.
—Val
great article. Thanks for sharing