Dear friends, when last we convened, you were kind enough to read “What's a targe? And why does it have a “bouche? Or Researching for Meaning.” In it, I shared the results of some research I've been doing for my new shield series and exploring the ways in which this defensive weaponry both asserts and protects identity.
Today, however, I would like to take a detour into an art form that bridges the gap between the second and third dimension- (cue spooky music...) printmaking! No Dr. Who, or H. G. Wells needed- just a desire to take a three dimensional object, smear it with some ink, and smush it onto paper. The results can be revelatory. The tiniest details, often overlooked by the naked eye, can be brought to life through this transferring of ink to paper. I first experienced this in 7th grade, when my Mom brought in some potatoes for us to carve and use as stamps. Our school didn’t have an art program, so she and a few of the other moms took turns teaching us about the work of famous painters, sculptors, printmakers. Growing up in Philadelphia, we even learned about Paul Revere as a master silversmith... and patriot.
The potatoes were part of a lesson on Hokusai, probably the best known of the Japanese woodblock printmakers of the 19th century. As part of our local library’s “Art in Schools” program, my mother was able to check out reproductions of works by Hokusai, and other famous artists.
It’s hard to convey the sense of excitement my classmates and I had whenever we were allowed to do something- anything - outside of our normal routine. Days and weeks would pass in practiced and perfected tedium.
In my mind’s eye, I can still replay the moment my mother placed the large print of The Great Wave off Kanagawa on an easel in front of the classroom. A gigantic wave, alive and roiling, towers over two fishing boats. The fishermen cower under the crest of the wave, which Hokusai has drawn to look like a claw, ready to crush the men and their insignificant vessels.
Speaking of crushing, moments before my mother’s visit, Sr. Ambrose and Sr. Dolores Immaculate had spun a boa-constrictor like force field around our bodies. We were warned that were we to move one inch off our chairs, or make a distracting noise of any kind, we would immediately be sent down to Sr.Gabriel’s office, and would not be seen again. ( Can you sneeze in silence? I can- in complete silence.)
My mother explained that Hokusai’s print was made by carefully carving into blocks of wood, blotting them with ink, and then pressing them onto paper. She had brought in large russet brown potatoes so that we could all have a go at making our own version of a “wood block” print. With a knife that I recognized from our kitchen drawer at home, she sliced off a hunk of the bulbous tuber. Next, she scraped a fork over the white flat surface, and made deep grooves. Then, she poured a small amount of purple poster paint onto one of the dark green saucers we used for paperclips, and dipped the potato into the paint. When she brought it up and showed it to the class, we could see the purple paint clinging to the potato, and white stripes where she had dug the grooves. She pressed the potato several times onto a sheet of white paper. And there it was- a series of wobbly circles filled with purple and white stripes, each lighter in intensity than the last, until the image seemed to disappear. It was enthralling. And I couldn’t wait to try it.
With forks, knives, and spoons, we dug into, scraped away, and generally beat up our potatoes. Even Sr. Ambrose joined in. She drew Skull Mountain with the Garden of Gethsename around it in marker, and then printed three brown crosses on top. I remember making a bunch of shapes that kind of resembled tulips, and then drawing in the stems to make a flower patch. By the end of the session, our classroom smelled a bit like a brewery, and several of the boys had eaten their raw potatoes.
Today, even though I primarily work in clay, printmaking still holds a special fascination. And among all of the printmaking methods I’ve learned, (aquatint, monoprint, drypoint, et.al.) my favorite is arguably the most “simple.” Woodblock, linoleum cut, or potato - the kind of printing you can do by carving into an object, smearing it with ink, and smushing it onto some paper.
Recently I treated myself to a new Speedball Super Value Block Printing Starter Kit. It comes with a “speedy carve” block, a gouging tool with four interchangeable tips, a brayer, and a bottle of ink. The only thing the kit does not include is paper, which I purchased from the flat files at the Plaza art store. To begin, I chose one sheet of the “Masa,” a kind of rice paper that is meant to mimic the Japanese handmade paper traditionally used for printmaking. While I have nothing against potatoes, the basic Speedball tools and carving block are definitely an upgrade. The tools offer precision cuts, while the block readily accepts the ink, and is durable enough to withstand pressing out a large quantity of prints.
My plan is to do a run of votive rabbit prints. These prints will be inspired by the votive rabbits I’ve drawn onto my clay tiles, but I’m looking forward to taking a few liberties, and exploring this subject a bit more than I have thus far in clay. Printmaking holds several advantages over making things in clay, namely the speed at which one can produce a finished product, and the cost as well. With printmaking, I can carve an image and produce it multiple times within the space of an hour or two. The clay tiles I’ve made thus far are the result of a several week process; whereby I’ve created an original tile, cast it in plaster, and pressed wet clay into the mold to produce multiples. The tiles are then dried, fired in a kiln, hand painted and glazed, and fired again. I’d estimate that, in terms of my time, casting materials, and fees to fire the kiln, making the clay tiles are roughly twenty five- 30 times the cost of making a print.
The speed and relatively low cost of printmaking make it an excellent medium for experimentation. Hokusai himself often worked by creating variations on a theme. For example, The Great Wave off Kanagawa is but one print in a series entitled Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji. For me, printmaking is the perfect melding of three dimensional and two dimensional art- like the peanut butter and chocolate of the art world. I get the satisfaction of carving into an everyday object, and then placing it into a limitless imaginary world. If you’d like to try this fun and exciting art form, I can highly recommend the Speedball Starter Kit,- but, for the fun and pure pleasure of printmaking, you just can’t beat potatoes.
Not my first grade class, but a photo from my grade school’s website -Sr. Regina was still the principal when I arrived