Brush and Baren

Another tool for the Plan B arsenal

2012-01-24T11:23:00.000-07:00

During the process of working a reduction block I frequently make "mistakes" that cause me to rethink my next steps for carving and printing. Most are small and they're either not critical or they're solvable through subsequent ink passes. Every once in a while, though, I make a mistake on the LAST pass... and that takes a bit more headscratching.

A few days ago I printed what I expected would be my second-to-last color on this autumn landscape linocut. I wanted a little more interest in the middle-ground dark trees than just a flat color, so I thought a few highlights would do the trick.

So far, so good.

But for some reason I just couldn't wrap my head around how to make the sort of marks I wanted for the highlights, so when I started printing the final color it just looked too spotty and busy. The marks were too similar to those in the background.

Okay, I thought. I'll just join some shapes together and vary them more and it will be fine. So I carved some more and printed again.

Ick.

These shapes seemed overbearing, and rather than bring dimension to the trees, they seemed to flatten out. What the heck?

And then I realized what the problem was. The trunk of the second-from-left tree had been cut out at the wrong step... and the background green was showing through the middle of the tree instead of the highlight color. Damn.

There are ways to fix these things. It's possible, for example, to "pounce" color over an area with a brush and stencil (a technique called pochoir)... but I'm not experienced with pochoir, and the idea of having to do that over an obvious area in the entire edition with unknown results was not appealing.

This looked like a job for wood filler.

I've never used wood filler to repair a block, so this also seemed a bit risky, but I figured I could always carve it back out again if it didn't work and try something else.

Who knew there were so many kinds of wood filler? I stood in front of the shelf at our local hardware store for a longer period of time than I expected, and finally settled on this small tube of Elmer's brand "Carpenter's Wood Filler." I applied several "mooshings" of filler in the cracks... each time it dried it shrank (shrunk?) a little.

Then I sanded it smooth. The patch still seemed a bit shallow at this point, but I am not a patient person so I decided to go ahead and print anyway. I did recarve one spot that had gotten filled in during my overzealous application of goo.

Well, whaddaya know? It worked. Probably would have worked better if I had applied filler one more time-- I had to rub a little harder on the patched spots to get good ink transfer because they were just a skosh lower than the rest of the block surface-- but in general it worked out just fine. It's not a technique I intend to employ on a regular basis, but it's good to have in the arsenal of back-up plans.

Fieldwork Frogday. With penguins. And cabbage.

2012-01-22T13:56:00.000-07:00

Trips out of "our" valley seem to happen in clusters. I might not get more than a few blocks beyond the house for weeks at a time, and then suddenly I feel as though I'm hardly ever home. Last week I accompanied the DM to his gig in Manitou Springs for the first time since September or October, and this week I tagged along again for two more days of gigs in the same area. I expect to make the trip again in a couple of weeks...

You would be right in thinking I have plenty of opportunities to listen to David play here at home, but those opportunities aren't typically within a 30-minute drive of tigers and gorillas and lizards, and I've been really jonesin' to draw more critters lately.

So while we were down in the city (again) I tucked my sketchbook under my arm and toddled off to the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo (again), where I drew bullfrogs and penguins (again). The bullfrogs and penguins (and hippos and komodo dragons) are housed in the same building, and I usually end up there because it's a facility with decent light and workable vantage points from which to draw. I admit it: Some days I like my "field"work with a dash of comfort.

The advantage to being in the building on this particular day was that we got to watch the hippos enjoy an afternoon snack. By which I mean a keeper placed an entire (large) head of cabbage in each open hippo mouth. Kerrr-UNCH! Who knew that cabbage could make such a satisfying noise?

This morning we're home again and I got back to work on the landscape linocut. The second-to-last color went down just fine and then... oops. Problems.

Stay tuned for the resolution, but until then I wish everyone a week like cabbage in a hippo's mouth: Something to really sink your teeth into.

And a little bit more...

2012-01-19T08:09:00.000-07:00

There are plenty of days, or even moments throughout days, when I question my efforts as a printmaker. Maybe I should be pursuing some other career...

But then I put a blended roll of blue and green inks on a block and doubt just melts away. Seriously. Would someone who wasn't a printmaker feel a chill up their spine when confronted with this? I kinda doubt it.

Autumn landscape linocut progress

2012-01-17T13:04:00.000-07:00

Printing continues to be slow in the new year, although I now have two larger linocuts mounted and drawn and ready to start carving. A batch of "white" Awagami Kozo arrived two days ago and yesterday I trimmed it down to size for the 12 x 18-inch block that's next in the queue. I'm excited to start it, but also a little bit nervous.

In the meantime, I've been working in fits and starts on this small landscape. The last time you saw it it had just the blue sky and tiny violet hillside in place, but a fair amount has happened since then. Naturally I kept forgetting to take the camera to the studio, so two steps are undocumented. So far it's gone like this:

1) Blue (stenciled)
2) Violet (stenciled)
3) Transparent yellow (no photo)
4) Deeper yellow (still no photo)

5) Green-to-ochre blend (above)

6) Deeper ochre on only the lower half (lousy photo).

This edition is being printed on the "natural" color Awagami Kozo, and I'm trying to maintain only moderate pressure on the baren as I print each color. This means the texture of the paper is a little more pronounced, but I'm hoping it also means the colors will remain more luminous. Fingers crossed. Well, not really. It's too difficult to carve and print that way.

Linotype: the film

2012-01-16T08:29:00.001-07:00

Sometimes you just need a little film about "obsolete" printing technology to get your day off to a great start.

"Linotype: The Film" Official Trailer from Linotype: The Film on Vimeo.

One more example of how I was born several decades too late. I did typesetting on another now-obsolete machine, but it wasn't nearly as fun as a Linotype.

So far the screening schedule for this film seems confined to the coasts. Seriously? That can't be right.

Fieldwork Friday- no, Saturday: Cheyenne Mountain Zoo

2012-01-14T18:11:00.000-07:00


Birds at the Rift Valley area. The kori bustard kept me giggling... About once every five minutes it would pass my side of the exhibit yard, usually at a run and ALWAYS with the intention of tormenting all the egrets and guineafowl who were trying desperately to mind their own business.

The DM had a gig in Manitou Springs last night and I decided I would tag along. It's (almost) always nice to hang out whilst David's playing music somewhere, and it's extra nice to see the friends we stay with when we travel, but I had an ulterior motive for a journey to the city. I wanted to go draw some critters at the zoo this morning.

The weather has been ridiculously fine for January, so I was a little worried that hordes of other folks would want to be at the zoo on a Saturday, too. (I almost NEVER go to such places on weekends, especially if I want to draw.) It was busy, but not horribly so, and I managed a few decent sketches. Mostly I had pages of drivel... starts and starts and starts that went nowhere, but it felt great to move a pencil around.

Boreal toads and a sleeping pot-bellied pig named "AL-ouicious".

Well, THIS is better...

2012-01-11T14:50:00.000-07:00

Happiness is a drying rack of new prints-in-progress.

We're still feeling a bit sub-par here in the Heart of the Rockies, but both the DM and I have gone enough stir crazy to send us back to our respective studios, coughing and sneezing be damned. David's working madly on a new CD, and I have finally started some new relief prints.

Last weekend I mounted two largeish blocks, one 12 x 18 and the other 12 x 16, for some ambitious linocuts. I'm still waiting on the arrival of new paper, however, so although I'm twitchy to get one of them underway I'm stalled for at least another week. And sorry... I debated posting a photo of the drawn-up 12 x 18 block but I've decided I'd rather have it be a surprise. You'll just have to wait.

In the meantime, I drew up a smaller block... revisiting an image I tried last year but didn't feel was successful. The first two colors didn't require any carving, so this morning I tore down paper and got to work. Both the blue and the tiny spot of violet were put down using stencils and went quickly. I'm printing on the "natural" color Awagami Kozo again. So far, so good.

Inauspicious beginnings

2012-01-04T08:33:00.000-07:00

Soundtrack for the first week of 2012: Hack. Cough. Wheeze. Sneeze. Snerk.

I almost made it through all of 2011 without catching a cold. Really. Shortly after Christmas both the DM and I noted that we felt run down. Perhaps we were fighting something. We laid low and tried to stay on top of things but, alas, two days before the new year, I went down for the count. Several miserable days later I am much improved (although not 100%)... but guess who's flat out now?

So you can well imagine that I have no new prints started, nor any new photos of a winter wonderland. What I do have is less interesting but, for me, quite satisfiying.

These are file drawers. Tidy file drawers full of finished prints.

These are tidy paper drawers. Full of prints and drawings not yet made.

And these are tidy office files. With room to spare for all the wonderful things that will come this year.

The purge is not yet as far along as I would like since my end-of-year clearance was so rudely interrupted by a rogue virus, but it's well underway. I'm twitchy to get a new print started, but I think I have to give myself another day or two. In the meantime, now that my head is significantly less congested and/or medicated, I'm going to rifle through some sketchbooks and photos and think about what's up next.

Happy New Year, everyone! Better late than never!

Back to work

2011-12-27T21:11:00.000-07:00

No rest for the ~~wicked~~ weary. Spent the day in the studio finally wrapping up the last of the little black and white linocut icons for a client. They're all scanned and tidied up and ready to upload to the server... whew! That was the last loose end of 2011. So what am I doing tomorrow? Gutting my office and making room for all the paperwork and other messes I'll be creating in 2012, of course!

A little more chilly cheer

2011-12-25T14:04:00.000-07:00

Despite our thermometer hovering at 0 F this morning, the DM and I went for a walk down to Sands Lake. (We had to walk there because our cars are still buried under Thursday's snow, complicated by the efforts of the city snow plows.) I hoped the hoarfrost might be as it was yesterday... only this time I remembered to bring a camera. Beauty, eh?

Warm wishes from a cold landscape

2011-12-24T07:47:00.000-07:00

It's been coooolllllllddddd and snowy here in the Heart of the Rockies! We were graced with a big snowstorm on the winter solstice and sub-zero temps have followed, but we're happy and thankful to have a warm house, supportive community, and each other. (A mug of chocolate and schnapps doesn't hurt, either!)

From the heart of Studio V– Thanks for reading Brush and Baren, for leaving comments insightful to amusing, and for expanding my community of friends and colleagues to many corners of the world. I send sincere wishes for all good things in the year to come... for you, your work, your friends and families, the places you live and the lives you love.

Looking up the Arkansas River from the F Street bridge, Collegiate Peaks
and the Continental Divide in the background.

Looking back downstream towards the bridge.

In the summer this spot on the river has a shallow, sandy eddy we call "the beach."
Not so much in December.

Paper chase: Laughing Gull linocut

2011-12-22T01:20:00.001-07:00

Many long minutes now my fingers have hovered over the keyboard.

I'm waiting. Not for an idea, but for the passing of an idea. I'm trying desperately to resist the urge to continue the bad-relationship metaphor of my previous post. But it's so tempting.

I have, after all, recently released myself from the tyranny of a once-loved-paper-turned-desperado. I am free to shop around... to flirt with all sorts of interesting-looking sheets.... Oh, let's not go there.

A little background for anyone who's just tuning in: For several years I've printed by hand on a domestically-available hand-made sheet called Hosho "Pro." I liked this paper for several reasons:
1) It's bright white,
2) It has both a smooth side and a "felt" side,
3) It comes in a handy size (19 x 24 inches),
4) It's a good thickness for printing by hand
5) It's readily available and
6) It's reasonably priced.

In the last year or so, however, I've started to notice some changes. The paper has been less consistent in thickness, both from sheet to sheet within a batch and from one end to the other of an individual sheet. There have been more brush hairs and other remnants of non-paper "stuff" in the sheets. It has become more difficult to tell smooth surface from felt surface. And the final blow: The paper has been shedding fibers everywhere during printing- soft, linty fibers that gum up ink and rollers and interfere with ink adhesion. In some cases the paper even pulled apart when I peeled it back from the block after burnishing. Not good.

So it's time to find a new "favorite paper." I've ordered a few sheets each of several different papers and for the small (7" x 5") image I'm working on now I'm trying three of them: Rives lightweight, Canson Johannot, and Awagami Kozo.

Two passes down, one light blue solid and then the blended blue roll. Papers, left to right in the image above: Rives Lightweight, Canson Johannot, Awagami Kozo.

The first thing I noticed is that NONE of these papers shed fiber. Thank goodness.

The Johannot's chief appeal is that it's the whitest of the three papers. It is also the thickest and sports the most texture... two features which do not appeal. More on this later.

Sorry, didn't pay attention to order of papers. These are now, left to right,
Kozo, Johannot, Rives lightweight. I'll try to be consistent from here on out.

The third color pass was done during my demonstration at Abend Gallery last weekend, and it's here that things really started to get interesting. All of the papers showed some texture in the first color passes, but look at how little pigment made it on to the Johannot (center), even after three passes. These were all inked and baren-rubbed the same way. In fact, they were printed in the order in which they appear here... so it's not like I started with too little ink on the Johannot sheets. (I even rubbed the Johannot sheets harder than the others, but could only get this light ink transfer.)


Here's a comparison a little closer. Kozo on the left, Johannot on the right. You can also see the difference in paper weights here. The Kozo is much thinner.

The fourth color pass is another gray. More interesting still. The value changes are clear on the Kozo and Johannot... not so much on the Rives. (Far right in the image below.) Hm.

Four colors down and the differences in ink adhesion become more pronounced.
Left to right: Awagami Kozo, Canson Johannot, Rives Lightweight.

Kozo left, Johannot right.

And now the tricky part. Teeny, tiny red bird bills. I hand-inked these by dabbing some pigment on the block. Took no time at all. A half dozen little chips later I was ready for the final black.

All three sheets laid side-by-side again. The Johannot, while interesting, is not a paper I would choose to use very often. The Kozo (left) looks badly wrinkled here... but that's not the paper's fault. I spilled water on the table and didn't notice until after I'd set prints down in it. (sigh) It's good to note, however, that this is probably not a paper that would respond well to damp printing. I always print on dry sheets.

Here is the Johannot (left) side-by-side with the Rives lightweight. I've done the last couple of small prints on the Rives and aside from the fact that it's a warm white I've liked it well enough. Inks seem to be drying much more slowly on it, though. It has a very fine and regular linen-y texture that seems to take ink okay.

But the most intriguing "new" paper is the Awagami Kozo. The paper is a warmer white than I'd like and the texture is a little more pronounced, BUT... this paper seems to love ink. Every pass went down smoothly and with relatively little pressure on the baren. The Kozo is the thinnest of the three papers I compared here, which I am sure contributed to the ease of printing.

For my next piece I'll try the Kozo again. I'm anticipating a larger image, so one of the key questions will be how easy it is to register this thinner paper in a large sheet. The batch I just ordered was shipped in a roll instead of flat, which impacted handling a bit. (Curvy paper requires a little more finesse in the registration jig.) I'm hoping that gravity will do its thing now that I'm storing the remaining sheets flat.

In all, a worthwhile experiment.

One final photo just for grins: All that remained on the block for the final color pass. A reduction print that really lived up to its name.

Until you've had enough, you haven't had enough

2011-12-20T18:02:00.007-07:00

I suspect most of us have been, at one time or another, in relationships that should have ended a very long time before they actually did. We want them to work out. We exaggerate the good aspects, turn a blind eye to all the "little things" and slog forward despite evidence of impending doom. We've made promises, dammit, and we're going to keep them.

So despite mounting troubles with disintegrating paper, clumping inks, outrageous dry times, and physically punishing hours with baren and spoon I naturally kept working on a print that probably should have been scrapped at color #2, not #13. You know how it is: you keep hoping that the next action will be the one to sort out all the problems and salvage the relationship.

But even the most starry-eyed romantic must eventually abandon a love affair that's good for no one. As a wise friend once said, "When you've had enough, you've had enough. But until you've had enough, you haven't had enough."

Here's where the piece was two weeks ago, when apparently I still hadn't had enough:

I liked the dark blue color in the piece on the left, but it didn't define the still-nebulous shapes as I had hoped it would. One more carving and printing would be required. I lightened the blue for the piece on the right. The result seemed too intense, but I intended for most of it to be covered up by the last color, so I was hopeful that it would "tone down." (Read: I had reached the grasping-at-straws stage.)

You can't tell in this photo, but the biggest problem was that all prints had reached what another printmaking friend calls the "Naugahyde" stage: The inks were bumpy and shiny and uneven and just ugly. (Not to mention full of paper fibers.) I don't mind a little of that sort of thing here and there, but over the entire piece? Not attractive. And putting the last color down didn't help things at all... in the end I had a clunky, non-cohesive image with really bad ink coverage. My frog was not a prince. It wasn't even a frog. It was a zombie mutant slime mold. (With apologies to all lovers of slime mold. I know you're out there.)

(sigh)

In the few places where the final dark adhered... not so bad, but those places were very few.

Like many relationships-gone-bad, there are a few things about this image that I still like (mostly on the right side)... so who knows? You may see portions of this torn down and used for something else, but for now it's a candidate for the ritual Burning of Bad Art. (Yes, there is such a thing. At a friend's studio on the solstice.)

Denial overcome, it's time to move on. The good news is that I'm already learning some interesting things from the new papers this debacle forced me to try. In fact, there's one that's starting to look particularly handsome... Queue the violins and tune in next time. This could be the start of something wonderful.

Five Questions/Five Artworks in Wildlife Art Journal

2011-12-18T22:42:00.000-07:00

One of the most rewarding aspects of my rather haphazard journey as an artist has been friendships with fabulous artists around the world.

French artist Denis Clavreul and I have been friends since the first time we were both juried in to Birds in Art at the Woodson Art Museum in 1991, and we've worked and traveled together on both sides of the Atlantic many times since then. Imagine my delight when Denis asked to interview me for Wildlife Art Journal's ongoing series "Five Questions/Five Artworks" ! For me, it's a great celebration of 20 years... and of still finding new things to talk about with old friends.

The article went live this evening... Many thanks to editor Todd Wilkinson for the opportunity, and to Denis for giving me lots of food for thought. And a few kicks in the behind when I needed them.


Old friends already. France 1999. That's Denis on the right. The angelic figure in the center is Dutch/Australian artist Robin D'Arcy Shillcock. Whodathunk it would come to this?

Linocut demo tomorrow in Denver!

2011-12-16T17:31:00.000-07:00

It's a bird! No... it's a bunch of birds!

The high country weather gods appear to be smiling on the roads between here and Denver, so first thing tomorrow morning I'll be heading down to the Mile High City to present an informal printmaking demonstration.

There are a dozen of us on the schedule from 11-3 at Abend Gallery, Colfax and York streets. I started a new little project to work on tomorrow, my plan is to do both the carving and printing of the next color during the day. Come by and say hi!

"Usurper" in the house...

2011-12-14T14:43:00.000-07:00

I considered breaking this up into three posts... both to create a prolonged dramatic ending and, honestly, to have a few posts in the queue to carry me through the distracting end-of-year chaos ahead. But the Problem Child print is STILL a problem... STILL not dry enough for the last ink layer... so there are enough delays around here already. Let's finish this little piece, shall we?

I shouldn't have worried that the previous pass was too dark, as this dark green went down on top of it and still left room for more.

Which I obligingly added. I could have stopped at this point, but you know me. "Just one more color" is the usual mantra around here. I finished this linocut with a dark brown... although I think it looks black in the photo.

"Usurper," reduction linocut, 7 x 5 inches. Edition TBD.

Along my "usual" walking route are several nest boxes intended for use by mountain bluebirds. Early each spring I see bluebirds popping in and out of almost all of them, but a few weeks later the tree swallows arrive and displace a few pairs.

I mutter "usurpers" at the assertive tree swallows and chastise the bluebirds for not holding their ground, but secretly I admire the spunk of swallows. From the moment the last one departs in the autumn I am waiting, waiting, waiting for their return.

Delight by post

2011-12-12T20:17:00.000-07:00

Some embiggification is possible with clicking.

For the last several days folks on the Barenforum listserv have been gleefully announcing the arrival of prints from the most recent exchange. Perhaps you remember this project... 101 prints just 3.2 x 3.5 inches in size, sent off to a brave coordinator to be collated and returned as a set of 100 unique images.

"Wonderful!" the other participants exclaimed. "Beautiful, fascinating..." and all other sorts of superlatives.

But my mailbox remained empty and all I could exclaim was, "But where are mine?" (Pout. Pout.)

Today, however, I finally joined the ranks of happy exchangers. The long-anticipated parcel arrived, and in it was a lovely custom-made box, crafted for each exchange participant by our intrepid coordinator, Gayle Wohlken. (Above and beyond the call of duty, methinks.)

Within the ribbon-tied box (which you can just make out in the upper corner of the table in the photo above) was the most delightful assortment of woodcuts... single-color to bazillion-color, printed on everything from the most delicate translucent sheets to glossy cardstock. Every single one is charming, and the variety is utterly inspiring. It was all I could do to keep from running straight out to the studio after I spread them all out on the dining table. (Actually, I apologize that there are a few not pictured here. I didn't realize until I was scooping them all up again that some had stuck together.)

A few of these prints I watched evolve on the blogs of my virtual printmaker-friends, and it's wonderful to pick up the real thing. From your hands to mine... thank you.

I am SO glad I decided to participate in this celebration of prints and printmaker camaraderie. I shall certainly do it again. Eventually. ;-)

One step forward, two long delays

2011-12-09T20:07:00.000-07:00

It's been an interesting couple of days around here. And by interesting I mean simultaneously exciting and dreary. I finally bit the bullet and launched myself into computer upgrade purgatory... pushed the "purchase" button at Apple on Monday, and got the new machine yesterday.

An iMac is, of course, a thing of beauty, but OOPH. I've put off the upgrade for too long because of the inevitable cascade of compatibility headaches. I was three (count 'em, three) operating systems out of date... stepping up just two of them rendered a printer, a scanner, and a hugely expensive chunk of software obsolete. (sigh)

So for two days I've been doing file transfer and triage, and I'm mostly functional for now. (I've got 30 days before my big, fat chunk of trial software is gonna need a cash infusion.)

Tonight I finally felt satisfied that I could walk away from it, so dashed up to the studio to see where things stand with the two prints in progress.

My Problem Child is still a problem: the eucalyptus leaves lino is too, too wet to apply that last layer of ink, so there it sits.

The little swallow linocut is faring better, however. Wednesday, BCU (Before Computer Upgrade) I added another color layer to what you may or may not have figured out is a nest box. I did this using a mask, which I actually remembered to photograph this time.

A tracing paper mask lets me ink only the area of the nest box and not the entire block.

Nifty, eh?

Tonight I took a deep breath and started to do something with the background of this piece. I'm a little afraid that I've gone too dark here, but maybe not. I'm going to print out a couple of copies of this photo and get out the colored pencils and see if I can decide what to do next before I start hacking away at the block again.

In addition to my new iMac, the delivery guys brought my "two sheets of this, two sheets of that" potential-replacement-for-favorite print papers this week. Heh. Why do I feel like I'm being required to upgrade multiple aspects of my life simultaneously?

Gratuitous bid to distract readers from the other piece in progress

2011-12-06T19:39:00.001-07:00

The second-to-last color went down on the epic eucalyptus-leaves-and-other-washed-up-stuff linocut today, but I think I'm going to save the reveal until the piece is completely resolved. It looks pretty funky at the moment.

In the meantime, here's another print I've been working on. It's just 5 x 7 inches (the "currently funky" piece is 9 x 12) and I'm printing it on Rives lightweight... not the problematic Hosho.

The first three passes were pretty uninteresting, so you didn't see them individually. The VERY first pass was white... which might seem odd. But the Rives lightweight is a creamy color and the image called for a section that was pretty darn white, so I cut a mask and printed a small area. I also masked the green shape, since it was limited to just this rectangular area of the image. Over both went a transparent blue. You can barely see any of it here.

Color passes 1, 2, and 3

Next, a transparent ochre-to-gray blend.

Pass #4 is a blended roll

And then a transparent purple-blue.

Pass # 5

What? You don't think it was purple? Here's the color scraped into a sheet of wax paper, next to the same color inked up on the block. I did say it was transparent.

I was feeling really good about things so far... nice, quiet, harmonious colors. That all went a little wacky with the next selected inking.

Pass # 6

It seems a bit harsh, but most of this blue will be covered up by other colors.

After the agony of the larger piece, I am really enjoying this one. Inks are doing what I want them to do, the paper isn't throwing fluff everywhere, I'm able to do all the printing with my baren and not having to resort to rubbing extra hard with the spoon. There are six passes here already and I'm cruising right along.

Of course, I haven't really given ANY thought to what's going to happen in the background of this piece. I think that's next. Or maybe the box and then the background and then the bird. Dunno. At least four more passes either way.

The uphill battle for Underfoot prints

2011-12-02T09:25:00.000-07:00

Print progress updates have been a little slim around here lately, but it's not because there's no printing going on. Quite the opposite, in fact. I've put three client projects (not printmaking) to bed in the past week (one of them a 5x17-FOOT mural, eek!) and have happily filled the "extra" time with trips to Studio V.

Unfortunately, printing problems have persisted, and my up-to-now favorite paper seems to have finally gone 'round the bend.

The last few batches of Hosho "pro" that I've purchased have been noticeably inconsistent in thickness... even from one end of a sheet to the other. I've grumbled, but worked with it. But remember the troubles I was having with the ibis linocut from a couple of weeks ago? Some of my troubles were due to impatience and too-wet ink, but something still wasn't right.

I used Hosho AND Rives lightweight for the little aspen leaf print, and noticed again a little "fibre pulling" on the Hosho. But I made only 5 prints on small sheets of paper and it didn't seem too bad. I chalked the ibis print problems up to printmaker error and launched the current print for the "Underfoot" series on Hosho. (Justification: I have a stack of it, the rest of the series has been done on this paper, and I really like a bright white sheet.)

But there was trouble from the outset. Used to be it was easy to tell the smooth side from the felt side on this paper. This batch, not so much. It's ALL fuzzy. As a result, the first color pass was... how shall I describe it? Not smooth. No problem, I thought. The first passes are often light, and once there's another layer of ink on there, the felty bits will lay down and it will be just fine.

Four colors down. Spotty at best.

Hmm. Nope.
By the fourth pass I was really getting worried, but I was committed by then. I can't abandon a project if there's any chance I can pull it off. (Can you say obsessive/compulsive?) I like this image and I like the carving and I know that I'll probably never revisit it... so I soldiered on.

But what a mess! The paper is blowing fibers EVERYWHERE! Somewhere around color 4 or 5 I had to clean off the block and scrape my inking slab every other sheet because everything was getting gummed up with tiny paper fibers. Not. Right.

Selective inking for colors... hmm... 6, 7, 8, I think.

I whined about it to a friend who teaches in a college printmaking department and she shook her head. She'd heard other printmakers were having trouble with this paper, too. (When using it on a press someone had big sections of paper pulling OFF. Yikes!)

(sigh)

Colors... 9, 10, 11(?) down. Printmaker sustained hand-cramp injury
from too much burnishing time.

So I've carried on...but at this point it's taking about 15 minutes to hand-burnish each sheet, and the adhesion is still spotty. It looks okay from a distance, but up close? Hm. At this point I just need two more colors, and I'm hoping they'll provide at least a couple of usable prints.

Of course the upshot of all this is that I got to participate in Cyber Monday by ordering some new papers to experiment with. Two sheets of this, two sheets of that....

I also started another small (5x7) print on Rives lightweight... just to keep myself from completely throwing in the towel. Nothing to show for it yet... but I bet next week there will be!

In the meantime, I just scheduled a demo at Abend Gallery in Denver for Saturday, December 17. I'll be surrounded by painters during the session... so come and show some printmaker love if you're in the 'hood! 11am-3pm. Might be a good time to see if I have any hair left, too.

Exhibition Update

2011-11-28T16:49:00.000-07:00

I expect you're all chomping at the bit to know where you might find original linocuts during the month of December. Let me help you with that!

This Thursday, December 1, I'll be hanging work at the Salida Café in... Salida, of course. Grab a latte and gape at linos. There will be a few brand-new, only-ever-seen-on-Brush-and-Baren pieces in the mix. Show runs through the month of December.
300 Sackett Street, down by the river.

This Friday, December 2, the 21st Annual Miniatures Show opens at Abend Gallery in Denver. There will be hundreds of small works (really!) available for cash-and-carry holiday shopping, including 6 of my linocuts.
Show runs through January 7, 2012.
2260 E. Colfax (Colfax and York), Denver.

And, of COURSE, you can always find my work at the Maverick Potter in historic downtown Salida. The brand-newest piece from last week will be there!
(And if you're lucky you might even get to meet the brand-newest member of the MP family, not-quite-two-month-old Thor!)
119 F Street, Salida

Prints and camaraderie in the mail

2011-11-27T09:30:00.000-07:00

(Hey, Jill.. I pinched this pic from your blog.)

Just over a year ago I received an envelope from my friend Jill Bergman of Art on the Page. In it was a tiny handmade book, blank but for a little image by Jill herself, along with a request to add a little print and send it on to another printmaker. Jill's hope was that eventually the book would be filled by a succession of print artists and make its way back home to her.

My contribution in place, I shipped the book off to Amie Roman of Burnishings. Seems to me my timing might have been a little dodgy, since I think I sent it around the time Amie had her baby! She already had her hands full with a new project of her own.

But some time later I had a message from Amie that she'd added her own piece and moved the project along to another printmaker. Gratified that it was off to a good start, I promptly put that little book out of my mind.

So imagine my surprise and delight (and Jill's!) when I learned that the tiny book did indeed make it back home, full of wonderful prints! Jill tells the story and includes photos of all the images in her celebratory post here.

It's a story with a happy ending, but it also has a delightful postscript. This week I received another envelope from Jill... this time it included something that I'm not mailing anywhere. Ever.

It's a beaut, ain't it? A Jill Bergman original that makes me smile and reminds me that printmakers the world over are a wonderful bunch. Thanks, Jill, for initiating the project and thanks to everyone who played along.

Autumn leaves... outside the box

2011-11-20T14:52:00.000-07:00

Well, the waiting is finally over. Sort of. The wait now is for this piece to dry enough to frame, hopefully by the end of this week. There are holiday shows to hang, and SOON, afterall.

Here's how the end game played out:

After the blue, a gray. This was one of those nervous moments when I wondered if I had made the right color choice.

But the final dark made it all happy again... whew!

I definitely like this boundary-breaking approach... I'll have to keep my eyes open for other images that would work well.

In the meantime, I'm moving forward on the new piece for the Underfoot series. Three colors are down... the three easiest ones to figure out. I think I have the next color sorted out in my head... but in the meantime I'm spending an awful long time carving with only a tiny pile of linoleum chips to show for it.

Seriously. Whose idea was it to carve all these little, tiny shapes? She should be reprimanded severely. Or at least denied dessert.

Things to do whilst waiting for ink to dry

2011-11-17T19:11:00.001-07:00

In the ongoing list of things to do whilst waiting to proceed with prints in progress*:

# 12) Package up one's contribution to the Monumental Collaborative Puzzle Print project so that tomorrow one can
# 13) Take it to the post office.

All the gory details for Maria Arango's demonstration of ~~insanity~~ printmaker prowess can be found on the MCPP website and blog. The short version is that Maria cut several large sheets of cherry plywood into small, odd-shaped pieces and sent one to each of the more than 100 participating printmakers. We send our carved blocks back to her, she reassembles the puzzle and prints copies for each of us.

The project theme is "City of the World." I'm pretty sure that my block fits "behind" a house-shaped piece and "in front" of a skyscraper-shaped piece.. which made me think of an alleyway. Cities large and small have all sorts of creatures (also large and small) frequenting their alleys, especially at night.

Who-who-who goes there?

I had never carved cherry before, and I have to say I quite liked it. There are a couple of spots on this block where the carving went too deep... blame it on poorly sharpened tools and brief lapses of attention on the part of the carver. I just hope it prints okay... we're not to do test prints for risk of warping the blocks before they are returned to their mothership. Ummm, motherboard. Ummm, proper place in the puzzle.

(*What? You didn't see list items #1-11? Let's just say some things are best kept to oneself. Like laundry. And dishes. And whining.)

Chasing the blues

2011-11-15T18:30:00.000-07:00

No, not THOSE blues. Although if this thing doesn't start cooperating soon, we might be going down that road in the near future.

I let the little leaf lino sit for a day and a half before I tried to print the 4th color. My goal is to put blue over yellow and have it remain blue. It's something I've managed before so I know it can be done, but it requires a bit of timing and, in this case, patience.

The previous layers need to be quite dry, and since I'm trying not to use cobalt drier (it's nasty stuff) I'm obliged to wait. And (it turns out) wait. And wait.

Why, yes, I AM also using two different kinds of paper.

Yesterday's efforts went something like a chapter from Goldilocks and the Three Bears. First blue was too dark. Second blue was too light and looked greenish.

The third blue was just right, but DANGIT! The prints were too damp and color started to lift. So I conceded the battle, cleaned up the porridge, and went on to something else.

I went back today and gave it another try (thankfully I kept all that ink I mixed yesterday)... still too wet. Huh. Whatever the reason, it means a few more days before I can pick this piece up again.

In the meantime, I have resurrected a block that I drew... what? More than a year ago? It's been languishing on a shelf, another piece for the "Underfoot" series. The first color required no carving so I printed a bunch of blue-green rectangles and then carved for the second color.

It's been a while since I have tackled something this intricate, and I'm not sure my heart's entirely in it. But, hey! Why not? It's better than sitting around watching ink dry.

Stumbling ahead

2011-11-13T13:40:00.001-07:00

I did say I was going to take this linocut a little more slowly than the last one... but apparently I didn't move quite slowly enough. I printed the third color and started carving for the fourth when I discovered... woops! A section that was supposed to remain green didn't get removed before the ochre pass went down.

Hmmm... what's wrong with this picture?

I considered leaving it alone... it's not critical to the overall image. I decided instead to remove all the material for the fourth pass except the little area in question.

I rolled-up that area with leftover scraps of the previous green ink plus some white. Even with the addition of white it's still darker than the other greens (because it's over TWO other colors, not one, and not benefiting from the luminosity of the bright yellow below it) but I don't hate it. I'm calling it pass three-and-a-smidge.

I spy something not-quite-the-same.

I took today off to let things dry a bit. I only hope the studio doesn't blow away before I get back to it! It's been beyond windy here since yesterday... we heard that Monarch Ski Area (just uphill from town) recorded wind gusts over 100mph overnight. No precipitation, mind you. (Okay, about a dozen water droplets.) Just ridiculous wind.

That is, of course, why we decided to take our recyclables to the bins today. So we could wrestle large sheets of cardboard and bags of plastic in the wind. Never let it be said that we don't like a challenge around here.

Starting another print

2011-11-12T09:00:00.055-07:00

There's nothing that makes this printmaker happier than a drying rack full of prints, so of course that means starting another linocut!

Goals here are multiple: 1) get one more piece done for the upcoming December show, 2) do a "simpler" (read: fewer color passes) image and 3) push that border-breaking idea a bit.

It's funny... I use a broken border frequently in sketchbook drawings and journal entries and graphic design, so why did I never explore it in printmaking? It's not a particularly innovative idea, but I'm hoping it will at least be interesting for this piece.

First color– yellow. Gee. I wonder what it might be? (Not.)

Second color– green. I'm trying to be more patient this time and not load up too many colors too quickly. Believe it or not, I'm trying to keep this one to 6 or 7 passes. Uh huh.

I'm also trying out a different paper this time around, Rives lightweight. I've used it before with Elvis, but not for hand-rubbing multicolor prints. So far I like it just fine. I'm also doing a half dozen on the old standby Hosho so that, all other things being equal with inking and timing and environment, I can make some comparisons.

Stay tuned!

Just for grins: Everyone's a critic

2011-11-10T19:23:00.000-07:00

This evening I spent some time looking through photos for some print inspiration and came across these shots from a winter drawing expedition to the Denver Zoo. It was several years and much longer hair ago, but the photos made me laugh. Just thought I'd share. (And, yes, they're in chronological order.)

It's nice to be able to get close to your subjects....

...although they can get sort of pushy...

... and there IS such a thing as TOO close.

No, really. Too close! And the drawing isn't THAT bad.

Steppin' Out! Ibis linocut finished

2011-11-08T14:26:00.000-07:00

"Steppin' Out," (white-faced ibis)
reduction linocut, 8" x 10"

Whew! I confess I was feeling really uncertain about this linocut after the previous color went down. It seemed a little flat, despite eleven (!) colors. But after this last pass (color 12) I feel much better.

As often happens, I think I could have spared myself one or two print stages. There are two pinks, for example, but in the end they're not different enough to matter much. I'm not in love with a few of the shapes I carved, either...

But I am happy with the color palette... it's different from what I usually do, as is the value range. Compositionally I like the bird's bill breaking the border on the left... I think in the future I'd like to try to do more of that. (As with the wire in the little warbler linocut.) I debated making the border dark, but in the end I think it was a good choice.

One of the things I love about this process is that it turns up so many ideas for the NEXT piece! Not sure what that will be... I have a large piece in the mental incubation stage, but I need another small one for an upcoming show.

But first I have to finish a client project, so that's where my brain will be the rest of the day!

Keep Calm and Carry On

2011-11-06T19:44:00.000-07:00

Finally made it back to the studio today and got the second-to-last color down on the ibis linocut without mishap. But I decided to leave well enough alone and not print the last color. Hopefully I'll get back first thing tomorrow and wrap this piece up. (Sorry about the pink tinge to the image. This was the best I could do to tweak it out of there...)

This weekend I finally hit the wall I'd been expecting... you know the one: too-much-too-fast-for-too-long. Crash! Nothing for it but to sit on the sofa with a book and revel in that one extra hour of sleep last night.

Technical head-scratching. Please stand by.

2011-11-02T16:27:00.000-06:00

Not much left on this block!

There's some weirdness going on in Studio V.

Yesterday and today I put a few more colors down on the ibis linocut (we're up to 10 now), but it looks like the last two colors are going to need to wait a few days. I'm bumping up against some technical hiccups that I haven't encountered in a looonnnngggg time, and I'm not sure what to do except wait for everything to dry before moving on.

Bits of pink legs and bills, and lavender water. Good.

I've got me some fuzzies. And I don't mean the warm and cuddly kind. Remember I said a few days ago that I was experiencing a bit of paper-pulling from what I assumed was too-wet ink? I hoped it was that I didn't yet understand the temperature and humidity ambiance of a new space and just needed to let things set a couple of days longer than usual. Which I did.

Dark green for wings: Good. Paper fuzzies: Bad.

Today, however, I got back to work and ran into problems again.. and more of them. They're centered in the bird bodies of the image... the place with the most ink layers. Yep, I've still got paper fuzzies. Lots of them. Enough that I had to clean off the block for every inking of the most recent color. That ain't right.

I have two main suspects. The first is the paper. I like the domestically available Hosho "pro" because it's a bright white sheet, but the last few batches I've purchased have been less and less consistent. Paper thickness varies from one end of the sheet to the other, and where once there was a clear difference between the "smooth" side and the "soft" side the texture seems more nebulous. Overall I think this batch of paper is just too soft... I had a difficult time telling which side was which and there were lots of little loose fuzzy bits before I even started.

The other suspect is, I'm sorry to say, the transparent medium. Usually I use the Graphic Chemical tint base extender when I want a transparent ink, but I ran out and a new can is on backorder. I used some Daniel Smith transparent medium that I had in a drawer. I remembered that I didn't like using it when I bought it (too sticky), but a) I was desperate and b) I thought maybe I'd become a better printmaker and I'd be able to work around it.

Apparently not.

Mind you, I LOVE Daniel Smith inks. I use the oil-based relief inks almost exclusively and they're beautiful. But I dunno what happened when they formulated the transparent base. It's just not right.

So keep your fingers crossed that I'll still be able to salvage this piece once everything has had a few days to de-tackify. I hate having to wait, but what are you gonna do?

Start a different one tomorrow, I guess. ;-)

Ibis linocut progress

2011-10-30T21:04:00.002-06:00

I dashed off to Studio V first thing this morning, anxious to make a little more progress on the ibis linocut. Last night as I was trying to settle down for sleep I realized that I didn't much like the contrast in the upper portion of the image and I needed to tone it down before carving any more of the block.

That meant the first order of business was some select inking and printing. Just this little bit behind the birds' heads. The gray-green that was there was just too dark, so I mixed up a very pale gray, semi-transparent.

Not sure if you can really see the difference here but, trust me, it's better.

There are some small bright green bits, a sort of iridescence, in the top of the birds' heads and in their wings, so that color went down next, just across the middle of the image.

Since neither of these two ink layers interacted much with each other or with the next intended color, I went ahead and printed a third today. It turned out to be a tiny bit too ambitious– on the last two prints the tacky green ink "re-stuck" itself to the block when I was burnishing the blue and pulled up some paper. I'm not worried... I started with plenty of extra this time because I thought I might be pushing some limits.

Three (I think) more colors to go... 8 are down already. Through no great planning on my part it has worked out that I could do a lot of "selective" inking, so the ink layers remain quite thin. I like that the quality of the impression in the background is light and "airy" (watery?)... I can't decide if the darkness of the birds' bodies will be a nice contrast or too much... we'll see when we get there, I guess.

Livin' it up on a Friday night

2011-10-29T08:19:00.001-06:00

David left yesterday afternoon for a gig on the Front Range and I didn't expect him home until late, so I decided to see what evenings were like in Studio V. Yup. Big happenings on a Friday night.

I'm feeling really manic about printing right now... it's been so long since I've printed just for me that every time I go to the studio I feel like I've had wayyyyy too much caffeine. (Note: pretty much any caffeine is way too much for me, so I tend to avoid it.)
HaveToPrintAsFastAsICanBeforeTheyTellMeIHaveToStopAgain. Or something like that.

The result is three color passes for 5 colors in two days on a brand new linocut. Goofy.

I didn't take a photo of the first pass, which was a very light pseudo-blend of gray to blue. What's a pseudo-blend, you ask? Well. It's one color of ink on one brayer and another color on the other brayer, blended on the block instead of the inking slab. It's a quick-and-dirty solution when I don't have a roller wide enough to ink the entire block, and since most of the middle part where the pseudo-blend occurs will be covered up by other colors.... it's good enough.

The third color, second pass was also very light, but I think you can see it here. Pink! Most of this will be covered up by the....

...third pass, which is another pseudo-blend of green and blue. I think you can tell that the bird bodies will ultimately cover that questionable mingling area.

There's a good bit of carving to do for the next step. I'm imagining a total of 8 passes... we'll see if it turns out that way!

In other news... I found out yesterday that my grandfather was a press operator for Stationers Corporation in California... must have been in the 1940s. Weird, huh? Do you think it's genetic?

Meet Presszilla!

2011-10-28T10:17:00.000-06:00

She's big, she's heavy, stalwart and strong. I haven't noticed if she has atomic breath (I hope not), but she definitely has some spiny bits that shouldn't be underestimated.

Meet Presszilla. (Challenge Proof Press, K Series)

Presszilla's previous caretakers are headed to new lives south of the border, so she's come to live with her Aunt Sherrie. Well, sort of. At the moment she's living in the garage of her Aunt Susan and Uncle Richard, but some time soon we hope for a consolidation of the family. (Elvis needs to meet his cousin, after all.)

Yesterday Printmaker Extraordinaire, friend, and former Presszilla-keeper Nancy and her husband Mark came to The Garage to help the DM and I reassemble Presszilla and get a tutorial in her operation. A little cleaning, a little lubrication, and we were ready to run some tests.

It was a tad chilly (we had snow on the ground, after all), so we kept it short. I brought an old block from a previous reduction print just to practice with... I learned how to lock a block in to the bed, how to lift the roller and lower it to engage the print. My lino blocks are not quite type-high, so a little fussing will ultimately be in order to get the pressure just right, but once everything's set up it should be great fun to run. (My test prints were rather light, and I didn't get any pix, sorry.)

A few other visitors stopped by during the proceedings and we had a good chuckle about being among "our own kind," which at the moment meant "people who like heavy old industrial machinery." All who saw her agreed that Presszilla is a thing of beauty. All she needs now is for me to make some prints worthy of her.

Warbler linocut finished!

2011-10-25T15:57:00.000-06:00

I'm pleased to report that I'm already meeting one of the goals of the move to Studio V! Separating art-making from business and illustration/design work is turning out to be the great thing I hoped it would be. This morning I went straight to the studio and spent most of the day there, stopping only for a short lunch break with the DM. The result of uninterrupted time? Three (and a half) color passes and completion of a new linocut. YAY!

Of course, I'm still tripping over myself with little details like remembering to take photos. And despite new lamps I'm still not happy with the lighting situation in the space, but, hey! I'm getting stuff done anyway.

Rather than send you back to see where this piece was last week, here's a quick image reprise:

First four passes: Yellow, blue, transparent gray (stenciled),
and a green that was supposed to be a blend but didn't
work out exactly as I planned.

Before we left for the Front Range last week I had printed the
fifth pass. This was a transparent salmon-y color and I
quite liked the resulting warmth that came to the greens.

Whose idea of color mixing was THIS?

Yesterday I carved some more into the background area of the block, and this morning I was ready to print. I still had some of that salmon color left from last week, so I decided to use it in a blended roll with a transparent dark green. What!?!? Ugly on the inking slab, but OOOH!!!! Happy.

At this point I considered carving and printing some more transparency in the background, but forced myself to exercise some restraint. (Not one of my best skills.) I liked how the bird was melding with the background, but I wanted to try something different and get it to stand forward.

I forgot to take a photo of the gray pass that came next. Bird and wire only, nothing changed in the background.

And then the moment of truth. I considered printing the border of this print in the darkest color, but I so liked the way it reflected the blend of the background colors that I opted to leave it alone. For this pass I ran a dark gray across the underside of the tail and wings and then black over the upper parts of the bird and the wire. After I had them all done I decided the bird's legs needed to be the darker black, so I very carefully inked only the legs and printed them in one last pass.

I think I took this shot before the black legs were done, but you get the idea. Once it's good and dry I'll make a nice scan and put it up here.

Overall I'm happy with this piece. The three shapes along the bottom edge were supposed to have been darker (that blended green that I wasn't thrilled with 'way back at color 4), but I don't find them horribly distracting. Subtlety still eludes me... but it feels like I made some steps in that direction with this print.

There's another new piece ready to roll (printmaker pun), but there are contract projects demanding attention, too. (sigh) So much to do, so little time.

The Prints are in the Mail

2011-10-24T20:23:00.000-06:00

No, really. All 101 tiny woodcuts for the Barenforum 50th print exchange are on their way to the coordinator in Ohio. Gayle's got a big job ahead of her! (I interleaved them with glassine for transport, which is why the top print in the stack looks so mysteriously vague.)

I can't wait to get back my own set of 100 different images from all the exchange participants.

I'm anxious, too, to get back to printing my own stuff. Well, that... and now I REALLY have to turn my attention to my block for the City of the World Monumental Collaborative Puzzle Print project. (Due in December.) I have a rough idea sketched out, just need to get it going.

"Waxwing Waits," 2.5 x 3.5 inches, woodcut

Fieldwork Friday: Cheyenne Mountain Zoo

2011-10-22T15:05:00.001-06:00

A cluster of bullfrogs... great fun to draw interlocking shapes!

The DM and I spent the last few days in Colorado Springs, an excursion precipitated by a relief printing demo (by me on Wednesday) and music gigs (by David on Thursday and Friday).

So what to do about Fieldwork Friday when we were running around the city? A trip to the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo, of course! The day was spectacular, filled with cloudless blue skies, perfect autumn temps, and no wind. It was also filled with way more people than I usually like when I'm determined to draw, but these days I get to zoos and museums only rarely and I take whatever time I get gratefully.

Cooperative (or semi-cooperative) subjects included wallabies, lizards, fish and frogs. The bearded dragon (lizard above) was very sedate until the moment he caught sight of a parrot. It was full-on agitation after that... such a vigorous display that all I could do was put down my pencil and enjoy the show.

Chub-ably wallaby

Hog Island Audubon Camp 2012 Registration is OPEN!

2011-10-20T11:00:00.000-06:00

Explore the intertidal zone with us!

I'm delighted to announce that I'll be an instructor for Educator's Week at Hog Island Audubon Camp in Maine again next summer.

Registration for all camps, including Educator's Week, opened on October 17, and I encourage you to check out the offerings. 2012 Camp Sessions. (Birders in particular will salivate at the field ornithology camp schedule.)

There's a $50 discount if you register before December 15. For more information, photos and to enroll, visit hogisland.audubon.org or call (607) 257-7308 x.14. Some scholarships are available - check with your local Audubon chapter or birding club.

Warbler linocut progress

2011-10-19T07:06:00.001-06:00

Pass number five, and it's starting to look like something. I decided to try and do something nebulous in the background, just some odd shapes. I may decide I hate it, but so far it's okay.

I envision one more transparent pass in the background, but there might be two. Two colors remain in the bird and wire and they'll be fairly opaque.

It's.... another press!

2011-10-18T13:03:00.001-06:00

When I added a musician to my household I learned about an ailment common to the breed: GAS, or Gear (or Guitar) Acquisition Syndrome. I've enjoyed rolling my eyes at conversations about mixers and amplifiers and the equipment minutiae typical of musicians. I shake my head and chuckle, "Musicians!"

Which is not to say I don't have my own art gear foibles. I have a zillion daypacks and bags because none is ever perfect for all iterations of travel with sketching gear. I have many tubes of ink and paint, scores of drawing implements, drawers of paper and sketchbooks. But until recently the common feature of all of it has been that I could move it myself. Well, except for the paper storage cabinet... but that's another story.

And then something started happening. Back in February the stork brought me a Richeson Baby Press, now affectionately named Elvis (Press-ley). Elvis weighs about 65 pounds and I can schlep him around a bit, but he's pushing the envelope.

Of course I then needed a steel tool cabinet for Elvis to sit upon, which arrived in April. This I could NOT move by myself, but the DM and I teamed up to haul it up the stairs to Studio V with a modicum of huffing and puffing.

With the move to Studio V it became clear that I needed a new work surface. The solid-core door which is now the table top is also a two-person shift. As is the new stall mat. Rut ro.

But as of this morning I have now officially gone 'round the bend, having taken custody of an old Challenge proof press*. Well, I've taken partial custody of it, as it's in temporary storage in the garage of friends nearby. At several hundred pounds of awkwardness there's no WAY the three strong young men and we two middle-aged printmakers and our significant others could have gotten this thing upstairs to Studio V. So yeah, I'm already hunting for new studio space. (sigh)

Suddenly I'm shaking my head and chuckling not at musicians but at myself... the proud caretaker of a behemoth about which I know nothing and for which I have no permanent home. Printmaker's Gear Acquisition Syndrome? 'Fraid so. But it's a thing of beauty, ain't it?

(*To my surprise, I'm finding it difficult to locate information about this press online. Challenge proof presses were originally supposed to be competition for Vandercook models, but Vandercook won a legal action against Challenge and they stopped manufacturing them. Could be the name "Challenge" will be more appropriate than is comfortable. We'll see.)

Carrying on in Studio V

2011-10-17T15:35:00.002-06:00

Work routines in Studio V are starting to take shape, although there are still a number of details that need attention. Lighting is chief among them, and I hope to have some solutions in place in the next few days.

The new workbench works a treat, although I'm wishing now it were a little deeper. Might have to go back and see if I can't talk Ves out of the larger door/tabletop he has at the shop. Yesterday I bought a "stall mat" from the farm store and this morning the DM cut it down to a fit-in-front-of-the-workbench size. I'm hoping it's going to make my feet happier the next time I stand printing for 8 hours.

In between all the space-tweaking I'm still getting work done. Last week's 130+ tiny prints remain scattered over most horizontal surfaces. They're dry to the touch, but I'll wait a few more days before I package them up and send them to the exchange coordinator.

Coming up this Wednesday I'll be giving a printmaking demonstration at the monthly meeting of the Pikes Peak Watercolor Society, so yesterday I got down to work on a small (5 x 7 inches) linocut that I think I'll use at the presentation. Maybe. I never finished the piece I used as a demo at Birds in Art last month, so I might use that instead. It all depends on how things go tomorrow.

This morning I did a little ~~damage control~~ creative problem solving on the new print... by the second color I realized I had accidentally removed a section of lino prematurely. Oops. No problem, though. I had another uncarved block of the same dimensions! I made a stencil for the areas I wished to print, inked the uncarved block, and printed from it for color #3.

Good thing I had an uncarved block of the same dimensions.
I needed it to print from a stencil. Aka: covering up a boo boo.

Here we are with four passes down. My apologies for the worse-than-normal image quality here. My little point-and-shoot camera turned its toes up a couple of weeks ago and I haven't been able to replace it yet. I've been borrowing the DM's even older camera and I haven't yet come to terms with its particular idiosyncrasies.

The rest of the week, then, looks like printing... painting for a client... a demo... and hopefully some fieldwork time. Same old, same old. There IS, however, some excitement in the wings for tomorrow morning. It involves a truck, some young, strong guys, and a big hunk of metal. Stay tuned.

Epic printmaking

2011-10-11T20:18:00.001-06:00

Lookit my new-today taller work surface! Sawhorses and a door.

Little by little I get more organized in Studio V. It's a slower process than I expected (or hoped), but it's getting there.

Yesterday was the big test of what the priorities are for the space. (Read: I had to get a lot of printing done.) You might recall that I decided to participate in the Barenforum 50th print exchange, which requires the delivery of 101 tiny prints by the end of the month. You may also recall that I decided to experiment with woodcuts. And that I did so right before moving in to a new space. Just call me the Queen of Too Much at Once.

Last week I thought I had an image sorted out. Something simple and single color.

Four discarded blocks and one winner!

It was a disaster. I carved four different blocks, and worked each of those multiple times. I even switched to back to the comfort zone of lino instead of wood. Nope. All I got was a pile of black and white prints that I didn't like.

A small portion of last week's Epic Fail. Magpies everywhere.

After several frustrating days my frantic brain finally conjured up Peter Jackson and Philippa Boyens talking about a beloved scene that they couldn't fit into the edit of "The Lord of the Rings." They tried it in the front of the film, in the middle, in the end. Couldn't make it work. Ultimately it was abandoned because Philippa said, "If you're having that much trouble it probably means the scene isn't right for the film as a whole."

If I was having that much trouble making the print work, then apparently it wasn't right for the project. On to the cutting room floor with it! Do. Over.

A scramble through my sketchbooks and photos brought me a new idea.. simpler design, but slightly more complex printing because it needed color. I printed the "rainbow" roll last week... and yesterday I spent eight straight hours printing the second color... 134 times!

100+ tiny prints on the new workbench! Phew!
Now if they'll only dry in time.

I printed lots of overage because the rainbow rolls were pretty variable. Not the end of the world, but I'd like the latitude to cull the extremes from the edition.

After eight back-tweaking hours yesterday it was VERY clear that a taller work surface was in order, so today I went down the street to the lumber yard and visited with "my" shop carpenter. Ves is a fabulous fellow who has helped me more times than I can count... cutting blocks and sifting through scrap wood to find me parts for building jigs and all sorts of things. Today he scored an old solid-core door and cut some 2x4s so I could make this (inexpensive!) workbench. The DM helped me haul everything up to the studio and put it together, and tonight it's a drying rack for all those little prints. Later this week it will be a printing surface! Hooray!

Welcome to Studio V

2011-10-04T18:14:00.002-06:00

For more than 25 years my home has been my studio... painting in the living room, rubbing linocuts on the drafting table in the bedroom. Somewhere along the line I moved in to a two-bedroom apartment and got in the habit of dedicating a room to graphic design work and art-making.

When I moved to Salida (almost ten years ago), working at home became a full-time operation, and the "spare room" became studio AND office. It's a situation that has served me reasonably well, and I'm thankful that I've been able to make it all work.

But that's part of the problem. It's ALLLLLLL work. And it's all jumbled together. If I want to make prints I have to put all my paints away. If I'm in the middle of painting a big contract illustration I can't print. And the darn computer is there either way... insistent and tyrannical.

I started daydreaming about studio space OUT of the house more than a year ago. There have been all sorts of practical reasons not to get a separate studio (cost being chief among them), but I've found myself less and less productive in the home studio. I've been too distracted by my "to do" list, by the myriad house tasks and business tasks and, yes, by the musician in this household for whom this place is also studio and office.

So this week I took a deep breath and rented a space that I intend to dedicate to printmaking... Sherrie's fine art space is now separate from her commercial art space and her office!

The new space isn't perfect yet. I need taller work surfaces and more storage, and a carpet on the very noisy wooden floor. I'm upstairs in an old Victorian-era building in downtown Salida, just two blocks from home, so an easy walk back and forth. I've had two days there now, and I feel like a klutz with creative amnesia. The automatic work routines of the old space don't apply to the new and I keep discovering little things I need that haven't made it down the street yet. But I'm getting there.

I consider it all an experiment. Thankfully I'm in a situation that doesn't require a long term commitment, so if I crash and burn here I can haul everything back home and try again later.

More news from Studio V (for that's what it says on the door) as I get going!

Fieldwork Friday: St. Elmo/Chalk Creek

2011-09-30T14:06:00.001-06:00

This morning I headed upriver, north through the Arkansas River valley. Just before the tiny raft-stop of Nathrop I turned west up a county road, across the valley floor and into Chalk Creek canyon.

Past the fish hatchery and Chalk Cliffs, past the bighorn sheep habitat at Love Meadow, past the Agnes Vaille and Cascade Falls lies the not-so-ghosty-anymore ghost town of St. Elmo. I hadn't been up there all year (it's about 45 minutes or so from home)... it seemed like time for a visit.

As is usual for "peak" color season, I spent more time dawdling with the camera than actually drawing. By the time I reached St. Elmo the hordes of weekend ATV enthusiasts were arriving, so I made this little sketch and then turned back around for home.

There's an urgency to this time of year. I'm sure I've written about it before. A Rocky Mountain autumn is fragile and ephemeral. Resplendent, glowing hillsides last only until the next big wind or early snow and once October hits it feels like we're living on borrowed time. October. That's tomorrow. Ummm.... I'll see ya later.

Attraction distraction

2011-09-27T19:01:00.000-06:00

Is it any wonder I find it difficult to concentrate in September when this sort of thing is going on outside? Autumn was so slow to get started and now... WHOOSH! Blink and you'll miss it. So don't blink. And don't miss it.

David and I took a picnic supper up Marshall Pass this evening and despite less-than-perfect light conditions we managed to fill more hard drive space with our annual gazillion shots of aspen.

Woodcut experiments

2011-09-25T21:07:00.001-06:00

Tiny woodcut experiments

Okay.... raise your hand if you're the sort of person who decides to try a brand new recipe on the night you will have dinner guests.

Or perhaps you can remember any number of times when you agreed to perform a task ("Sure. I can do that.") and then immediately set about learning how to do it. Usually under deadline.

Yup. That's me, too. Which is naturally why I decided to participate in my first-ever [Baren]forum print exchange now. It's Barenforum's 50th exchange, with 100 printmakers participating. (As opposed to the usual 30-something.) The format is tiny (2.5" x 3.5"), but 101 impressions are needed for the exchange. By ~~October 1~~. Sorry, November 1. Wait. I think. I should check.

I know from previous experience with small prints that registration on tiny sheets of paper is far more challenging than it is on larger sheets, so a single-color image seems to be in order. But hmmm.... what to do and how to do it? Border print? Bleed print? Naturally I've also decided to carve wood instead of lino, which means I'm using less familiar tools on a less familiar surface. Experimentation required!

I'm not completely satisfied with any of these, but I think I'm headed in the right direction.

Meanwhile, we had a spectacular sunset this evening. Not just in the west, but in the entire sky. All of town glowed pink and orange. It would be challenging to try to interpret such images as relief prints. I don't think I'd have the slightest idea how to start. Which means.... Uh oh. Must. Resist. Idea. At least until 101 other little prints are done.

Woodson Art Museum makes "Ripples" all its own

2011-09-21T19:42:00.000-06:00

Just when you thought things couldn't get any more exciting post-Birds in Art...

...Leigh Yawkey Woodson Art Museum collections curator Jane Weinke telephoned to share the happy news that "Ripples" will join the Museum's permanent collection! I responded to Jane's call with all the professionalism you've come to expect from me: I all but shouted, "Get. Out."

Yeah. Professional.

Dubious decorum aside, I am honored to have this piece included in the Woodson's spectacular collection. You really do need to visit there if you're ever in or near Wisconsin.

Here's the extra fun part, though. Remember my description of Project Postcard? It was a fundraiser I felt good about supporting, and in return it has supported me. I send a huge thank you to all the artists who donated postcards and to all the exhibition visitors who bought postcards. Because of you the Museum will acquire not only "Ripples," but also pieces by Julie Bender, S.V. Medaris, and Michael Todoroff, all from the 2011 Birds in Art exhibition. It's all good.

Even MORE linocut icons!

2011-09-19T17:40:00.000-06:00

Yep, a few more images were recently added to the tick list for the Southeast Colorado Heritage Area project. After so many weeks of running around like a headless chicken it feels good to get back to carving and printing, and "simple" black-and-white linocuts have proven to be the perfect limbering-up exercise for atrophied printmaker muscles.

I love a pile of lino kanoodles, don't you?

At least I only had to clean off 7 plates this time, not the 18 of the last set.


Yes, they're hanging on the drying rack, now...not all over the table.

There are exciting things afoot here... stay tuned for a couple of big announcements later in the week!

Lucky Me! (aka Seaside Studios' blogoversary)

2011-09-17T18:24:00.000-06:00

One of the things I most love about blog writing and blog reading is the opportunity to meet (virtually, at least) friends and colleagues from many corners of the world. I'm alternately inspired and humbled by hard-working artists in a variety of media. Thank you all!

In August my virtual colleague Lisa Le Quelenec at Seaside Studios celebrated her first "blogoversary" with a gift-away. To my great surprise and delight, her independent ajudicator (Ducky) selected my name as giftee! (The only other thing I can remember ever winning was a collapsible camping table that says "National Wild Turkey Federation" on it. Long story.)

"Storm at Southbourne" arrived last week in a happy little parcel from across the Atlantic. (Gift wrapped with a bow, even!) At present it perches above my desk, reminding this land-locked creature of the smell of the sea and of the generosity of artists everywhere. Thank you, Lisa, both for a lovely painting and for continuing to share your endeavors with the world.

Storm at Southbourne
acrylic on paper 13x12cm
©2011 Lisa Le Quelenec

Fieldwork Friday: CR 105

2011-09-16T14:44:00.000-06:00

Some days just don't unfold the way one might hope. Today, for example, started at 3:30am. Not on purpose, mind you. I just woke up and couldn't go back to sleep.

So I wrote a letter and cleared some more of my inbox. Made a couple of lists, put away some laundry, ate some breakfast. When the sun finally rose the outside temperature was still only 48F and it was threatening rain... it took me a long time to get out the door for Fieldwork Friday.

The first two hours of the day were spent just walking and birding in my "patch," which has been sadly neglected the last few weeks. The birds were a little slow to get started this morning, too... except for Wilson's warblers. The path along the river is dripping with WIWA.

When I finally turned my attention to sketching the clouds were looking even more ominous, so I parked my car alongside County Road 105 and did this little doodle from the comfort (?) of the driver's seat. My lack of sleep caught up with me... I found myself nodding off while I was drawing! The last time I remember doing THAT was in a math class in college.

I might mess with this some more later.... add a few details and some better color to the foreground. Or I might not. Someone just mentioned a nap, and now I... can't... keep... my... eyes.... zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Birds in Art: Highlight of any year

2011-09-14T14:30:00.000-06:00

"The most amazing indoor birding opportunity anywhere!" It's just one of the superlatives attached to the annual Birds in Art exhibition at the Leigh Yawkey Woodson Art Museum. I can think of a whole lot more, but I'm going to try to keep this post under 1000 words, eh?

The 2011 edition of Birds in Art (the 36th since the show's inception in 1976) includes more than 120 paintings, graphics, and sculptures created by artists who bring a global perspective to their passion for birds. To my great honor and delight my linocut, "Ripples," was among the works selected from nearly 1000 entries for this year's exhibition.

That's the corner of a piece by Frank LaLumia on the left edge.
Yeah, "our corner" rocked.

The Woodson Art Museum staff are the cream of the crop, and the exhibition is always a masterful blend of great art, efficient and detail-perfect organization, and enthusiastic community involvement. It's a huge honor to be included in the show, and mind-boggling to be treated to such an artists-as-rockstars opening weekend.

Not to worry. The rumbles you felt last Friday were the stars aligning to
FINALLY bring friend and honored colleague Debby Kaspari and I together
in the same geographic location. First time EVER, despite knowing each other
for several years now. That's Debby's awesome piece on the wall behind us.

Everything happens so fast during the weekend: from the first reception (there are three) to the presentation of the Master Artist award (this year to Jim Coe), from an elegant patron dinner to a cutthroat croquet match on the lawn. It's a blur.

"Project Postcard" was by all reports a huge success at the Friday evening preview reception, and during the Saturday morning opening I took my place alongside seven other "Artists in Action" who were all offering demonstrations of their particular work processes.

Another nice touch was a small exhibition of works from the Museum's extensive drawing collection which featured pieces by artists who had been juried into Birds in Art this year. (We neglected to get any photos, but I was tickled to see my drawing hanging next to that of another friend, Barry Van Dusen.)

Engaged, thoughtful, and appreciative. Couldn't ask for a more fun audience.
Or more perfect weather!

Sixty-seven of the artists included in the show made the trip to Wausau for the event, including three from Japan and others from England, Belgium, Germany, Netherlands, Israel, Sweden and Canada.

Best of all were the opportunities to see old friends and to make many new ones. Still, I look at my list of weekend attendees and realize how many people I barely saw or had time to visit with. (sigh) Ah, well... it's good incentive to try again next year.

Leigh Yawkey Woodson Art Museum, 12th and Franklin Streets, Wausau, WI (USA).

Tuesday-Friday, 9:00 am - 4:00 pm

(Thursday until 7:30 pm during Birds in Art and first Thursday of each month)

Saturday-Sunday, Noon - 5:00 pm

Closed Monday and holidays. Free Admission Always.

Here we are! But, oops. I think Jim Morgan's head got cut off. Don't tell him.

Colorado artists were well-represented again this year.
Back row, left to right: William Alther, Wes Hyde.
Front row, left to right: Daniel Glanz, Dena Kirk, Sherrie York, Frank LaLumia.
Ned Aldrich, where WERE you?

The Wisconsin artists held up three fingers as a "W". The Michigan artists
did their "mitten" gesture. Colorado artists? We're the Square State. Of course.

One last shot of the DM and me all gussied up for the patron dinner.
Just to prove we clean up okay.

Fieldwork Friday: In absentia

2011-09-09T13:00:00.001-06:00

Well, I'm not exactly in the field today... I'm all gussied up and attending the opening of Birds in Art. No grubby field pants and sneakers for me. I actually went out and bought a new dress!

My walk on the dressy side doesn't mean I've abandoned Fieldwork Friday, however. Here's another drawing from Yellowstone, which of course comes with a story.

I was sitting on the fallen tree to which this twisted branch was attached... down along the lakeshore, across a small meadow from the Lake Lodge deck. We had seen bison in this meadow previously, but on this particular morning they appeared to have wandered off somewhere else.

I'd been perched here for some time, engrossed in the drawing, when suddenly I became aware of a semi-familiar sound. It was a sort of rhythmic Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Not unlike the stout breathing of bison at close range.

In a micro-second I felt the panicked rush of adrenaline: "Oh, (insert expletive here)... Did bison sneak up on me while I was focused on drawing?" I looked around frantically.... but saw no enormous brown creatures. The sound persisted. What the...?

And then I discovered the source. My seat was just above the water's edge, and a fast-moving motorboat was cruising just beyond. Its wake created small waves that rushed up through the gravel along the shore: Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

Once my heart stopped pounding I had a good chuckle. There's probably some clever anecdote in this about not being able to see the bison for the tree, although I can't come up with it at the moment.

Still, it was a good reminder that working in the field requires one to practice a sort of observational-multi-tasking. Pay attention while you're paying attention, eh?

Project Postcard

2011-09-05T11:00:00.000-06:00

Here's something nifty I received in the mail on Saturday:

It's an invitation to the "Project Postcard" event during the Birds in Art opening this weekend at the Leigh Yawkey Woodson Art Museum.

Artists who had work juried into the show were invited (optionally) to create postcard-sized artworks for this clever fundraising idea. Postcards will be displayed anonymously at the Friday evening preview reception where, for a $25 dollar donation, attendees will stand in line to select a card. They will discover the creator of their mini-artwork only after their selection is made. Want a second card? Pay another $25 and go back to the end of the line.

Artists get asked to donate their work all the time, which can be a sore subject. Here's why I like this particular project, though: Monies raised in this manner are applied to the museum's Acquisition Fund. They use the funds to buy art. Patrons get special little art pieces, artists sell work, the Woodson Art Museum's amazing collection grows. (Why, yes, they do already have a Sherrie York or two. Or three.)

Here's the extra-fun part: Take a look at the "O" in the word "Postcard." (You can click to embiggen if you like.) Recognize that mallard?

Fieldwork Friday: At home and away

2011-09-02T20:19:00.000-06:00

It's taken a few days, but I'm finally feeling more or less back in the swing of things. Even so, my neck and shoulders complained mightily this morning at the thought of a backpack and hike for this installment of Fieldwork Friday.

In my (ahem) advancing years I am learning to pay attention to what my neck and shoulders have to say, so I opted to spend some time in the closest field I have: My yard.

There's not much to look at there just now... I don't seem to have found the right plants to provide blooms through the end of summer. While we were on the road the deer had their way with things, too, so it's all a bit scraggly. Still, the beloved bee plants have some color and they continue to share their oh-so-lovely scent whenever I bump up against them.

I also found my way to scanning a couple of things from LAST Friday in Yellowstone National Park. Both of these drawings are from the West Thumb geyser basin. I loved West Thumb in part because it was a smaller, less-visited area and it had just about everything you could want for thermal features: hot pools, mud pots, and geysers.

This is a corner of the Abyss Pool. The amazing and unlikely colors indicate different species of heat-loving micro-organisms (thermophiles) living at various depths and temperatures. One of my most pervasive memories from this trip will be sitting on the boardwalk next to this pool. Mid-day, glaring sun, no shade, smell of sulphur.... and me sitting practically on top of a huge expanse of steaming water.

But the funniest story comes with this sketch:

It's still early morning at West Thumb and I am perched on a bench, asking myself what sort of insanity compels one to draw boardwalks along lakeshores. As I work, a man in cowboy boots comes clomping towards me. He stops to see what I am doing.

"Is this for some kind of class?" he asks. (The implication being that no one could possibly do what I'm doing unless they were obliged to meet a class requirement.)

"No," I reply. "Just drawing for the sake of doing so."

He asks a few more questions ("What will you do with that drawing? Will you make a painting?") and then suddenly he says, "It's nice, but you never saw that here."

It takes me a moment to realize he's facing the opposite direction I am. "Sure I did," I say, and point behind him. He turns around and looks back the way he came.

"Wow," he says with a mystified tone. "You see stuff."

Back to linocutting

2011-09-01T17:06:00.000-06:00

Yippee! I'm back to work... at least temporarily. The small linocut I started last week with the new "mini jig" is intended for use as a reduction printing demonstration, so today I got it to the point at which I can show both carving and printing steps in the allotted program time. The mini jig, most of my carving tools, ink knife, block and ink are now bundled into a box to be shipped to the demonstration venue tomorrow. It's perhaps a day or two earlier than I need to ship everything, but better safe than sorry, I always say.

It felt good to be carving and printing today, although after all last week in the car and all day yesterday at the computer I found myself struggling with neck and shoulder issues. (sigh) Good thing tomorrow is Fieldwork Friday again, eh?

Where I spent last Fieldwork Friday

2011-08-31T10:45:00.000-06:00

Hint: A long way from home.

A fire in the west as we headed north through Wyoming and...

... the new growth after a previous fire in our destination.
Yellowstone National Park!

Yep. We went to Yellowstone for the annual gathering of the Journal-Keepers... a fabulous group of women who keep illustrated field journals. We meet for about four days once each year in some spectacular place, and this year the circumstances were such that the DM could join the Men's Auxiliary and share the adventure.

Of course, having David along meant I was more inclined to be a tourist than to get a lot of drawing done. I did make a couple of sketches I like, so once I finish sorting through the piles of stuff that came out of the car and get the scanner running again, I'll share them. In the meantime, a few photos from the park, where we saw almost all of the Park's "charismatic megafauna" the very first morning. (Bison, grizzly bears, elk, coyote, deer, and WOLVES! Black bear we saw a couple of days later.)

It's an early morning bison jam. Again.

Who knew bison were such willing and capable swimmers?

Pre-swim dust bath. Yes, it was that close and No, I didn't
approach it. It approached US from behind.
Who knew bison were also sneaky?

Bison in the foreground, but at the far edge of the valley,
where the forest comes down to the valley floor,
we saw the wolves of the Canyon pack cavorting.
We could see the white-colored alpha female with the naked eye,
but good looks required a spotting scope.

Yup. Grizzly bears in the lower right. Click to embiggen.

Plenty of birds, too. We saw sandhill cranes and pelicans,
bald eagles and tons of osprey. Here on a nest in the Grand
Canyon of the Yellowstone.
I think I left this image biggish and clickable, too.

And then, of course, there were the thermal features!
My family visited here when I was a child and I remember well
that my brother's favorites were the fountain paint pots.
I like them, too... Erupting mud!

Great Prismatic Spring. 'Nuf said.

Great Fountain Geyser making a great fountain.

Sketching waterlilies on the Continental Divide.
It was so hot that watercolors evaporated before I finished
each stroke. Palette puddles of color were no longer puddles
every time I reached to fill my brush.

Hm. I don't remember the name of this spring, but it gives a good
sense of the overall landscape.

With the DM at Artist Point.

1700+ miles later we are happy to have gone and happy to be home. We returned to Salida via all the back roads we could manage... obliged to spend only 30 total miles on interstate highways. Now to the oh-so-familiar routine of shoveling out the car and wading through correspondence. This afternoon I have to go take down my show at Cafe Dawn, so it's right back in to the swing of things for us!

Fieldwork Friday: Secret location to be named later

2011-08-26T11:00:00.004-06:00

Yup, I'm in the field on a Friday, but not anywhere with internet access! You'll just have to wait until I get back to see where I've been...

It's about time!

2011-08-25T22:54:00.001-06:00

Q: How long has it been since we've had THIS sort of image on this blog?

A: WAAAAYYY too long.

I put the new "Baby" Jig through its paces and I'm happy to say that so far it works a treat. The only minor problem is that it slides around on the table more than the Big Jig. This can be solved with some of that grippy drawer liner, which I don't have at the moment but will get soon.

The process of printing again after long hiatus felt a bit like getting on a bike after an even longer hiatus. A bit wobbly and hard to control, but no major crashes. The image I decided to work on suddenly seems not nearly as great as I thought when I started, but we'll see how it goes. I won't have the opportunity to get the next color on until next week, so maybe I'll have a better idea by then.

Building a low-tech block print registration jig

2011-08-22T14:59:00.000-06:00

One of the many events during the upcoming Birds in Art weekend at the Leigh Yawkey Woodson Art Museum is "Artists in Action." Eight of the artists whose work was selected for this year's exhibition will be "doing their thing" up close and personal on Saturday morning, September 10.

Guess who's one of the eight?

Because we are headed to the Wisconsin event by air rather than by car I decided it would be a good idea to ship my tools and materials ahead. Going through airport security with a bag of carving tools? Not too likely.

The complicating factor is that my handy-dandy, home-made, low-tech registration jig is BIG– the base is about 18x24 inches and can accommodate blocks almost that large. We've only got about 90 minutes for our demonstrations, so I plan to work on a small 5x7 block. My "Big Jig" is overkill, AND expensive to ship.

Hmmmm.... This calls for the (last minute) construction of a little, portable jig!

Simple materials for a registration jig

Profile view of the "outside corner" molding. They didn't do a good job
of cutting this, did they? No problem. I made sure this was placed to not interfere.

Step 1: Assemble materials. A quick trip to the local lumber yard produced the necessary wood parts from their scrap bin, cut to perfection by the carpenter-in-residence. Total cost for materials and shop labor: $5.00.

1/4" tempered Masonite board, 9x12"
2 pieces of 1x2 (pine or whatever)
2 pieces of 1" outside corner molding

Also required: wood glue, flat head screws, clamps, drill/screwdriver, and a 90-degree triangle or other squaring tool.

Glue and clamp 1x2 strips to base.

Make sure it's square as you glue and clamp!

Step 2: Glue the 1x2 strips to the edges of the Masonite board. Clamp. I did mine one at a time so I could make sure they were square and not slipping. (Step 2.5: For extra strength you can countersink flathead screws from the underneath side. I didn't do this.)

Make sure molding is flush with inside edge.

Glue and clamp!

Step 3: Glue the corner molding on top of the 1x2 strips. Make certain the molding is flush with the 1x2 on the INSIDE edges (towards where the block will be) are flush, not the outside edges. (See above.) Check for square. Clamp.

Gap? What gap? Doesn't matter.

This funny little gap at the corner doesn't matter. If you wanted to be fancy you could miter the corners, but it's not necessary.

If you're not planning to heave this thing around, you can probably stop at this point and have a completely serviceable jig. But this one's going in a box and bouncing across the country, so I added some screws for extra strength.

Flathead screws with countersink to make them flush with the top of the molding.

Step 4: Counter-sink some flathead screws to secure molding to 1x2.

You're done! There are a few other little "finesse" things you could do.. like the mitered corner mentioned above, or ripping down the corner molding so it doesn't stand up quite as high along the outside, but I don't have tools for those details and they're not critical.

5x7 block in the little jig, with shims. Ain't it cute?

Here's my little 5x7 block in the jig with some shims to create the wider margin I want on these prints.

Piece of paper checks the width of the side margins. Perfect!

With a piece of paper set on top you can see how the shims let me adjust the side margins.

Ready to go!

Whew! I hope this all makes sense. It's not a perfect system, but it has worked great for me for many years. You can check out this earlier post to see a description of my larger registration jig in action.

Fieldwork Friday: Stone Bridge

2011-08-19T12:37:00.001-06:00

Ah, but I'm going to disappoint you, because I didn't actually draw the bridge. I wanted to draw the bridge, but somehow today I just couldn't find a vantage point that interested me.

Looking across the Arkansas to a private ranch.
Pencil on Stonehenge paper.

Stone Bridge is a popular "put-in" point for rafts on the Arkansas River. (I suppose people come off the river there, too.) The bridge itself is actually quite dreary, a chipped and crumbling 1908 concrete-and-rebar construction sporting a plaque that proclaims "State Bridge." Whether that's its name or just a label (as in "This is a state bridge.") I don't know. There are a lot of things I don't know. (Like why the area is called Stone Bridge when the bridge itself is concrete.) I should fix that.

These days the bridge separates the Arkansas Headwaters Recreation Area from a private ranch across the river. It's an idyllic-looking spot, but I imagine that during peak season they are inundated with noise from the boat ramp, picnic area, and parking lot. "My" side of the river.

Was it a homestead? Are the current occupants descendants of the original owners? More things I don't know... but I do wonder about them as I draw.

Luckily it was quiet today, both for ranch occupants and for me. I saw one fisherman, one picnicker, and in the parking lot one lonely boat trailer, waiting for its cargo to arrive. Peak rafting season is past, sunflowers and rabbitbrush are blooming. Hey! There's something I do know! Autumn is just around the corner.

Fieldwork... Thursday

2011-08-11T17:54:00.000-06:00


Shady in the gulch this morning.

I have a love/hate relationship with deadlines. On the one hand, the countdown to a deadline helps me to focus on (mostly) one thing at a time. The tasks that are not immediately affected by the ticking clock move to the background of my attention. But SHEESH! What it is about deadlines that also induces some sort of unexpected crisis?

I've been conducting photo research for a publication that is scheduled to go to production tomorrow, and things have been going along pretty smoothly. There was one image of a plant that was still waiting for permission from the photographer, but I wasn't too worried. I had a backup image if the first photographer didn't come through. In fact, I had FOUR backup images.

At this point NOT ONE of the five photographers has responded to me at all. Not even to say 'no.' This afternoon we resorted to Plan F, and I illustrated the darn thing myself. That'll learn 'em. ;-)

There's still one outstanding image left to resolve, and I'm chasing down photos in my sleep, so it's been extra-imperative that I get out for my hour of hiking-and-drawing in the morning. Today I took myself up Cottonwood Gulch, a nifty little trail that I can get to from my house with about a 10 minute walk. If you look hard you can find the spotted towhee who shared my hideaway. He doesn't give a flying fig for deadlines, photographers, or illustrators.

Fieldwork... umm.... Monday?

2011-08-08T20:07:00.001-06:00

Frantz Lake shoreline, pencil and watercolor on Stonehenge paper, 11x14 inches
(Click to embiggen)

Now that I'm home (read: not on the road) for a couple of weeks I'm trying to re-establish some routines... like finding an hour a day to draw... preferably from life and preferably in the field... but I'll take what I can get.

Sadly, there's no odd or amusing story to go with today's effort. Well, I guess it was amusing that when time was up I discovered an even more interesting subject at my feet: a dead crawdad. Drat! I'm hoping it will still be there later in the week, but I expect some other creature will get to it first.

Fieldwork Friday: North Backbone Trail

2011-08-05T13:09:00.001-06:00

Old piñon on the North Backbone, pencil on Stonehenge paper, 11x14

At about 8:00 this morning I pulled into the North Backbone trailhead on CR 175. It was a later start than I had hoped, but I was pleased to find no other cars in the lot and a hillside full of quiet.

It's possible to hike back to town on this trail– from the northern trailhead to my house the journey is about 5 miles– but today was about dawdling.

I strolled 15 or 20 minutes down the trail and then settled in to spend some time with this downed piñon pine. I quite like this drawing because I can see myself relax as the lines flow from top to bottom of the page. Those first marks are tight... illustrative, not interpretive. The shapes are tense and, if you'll excuse the pun, wooden. But by the time I was ready to move on, I felt myself a little more in sync with my subject and my surroundings.

I did have to chuckle, though. If you've been reading Brush and Baren for any length of time, you might remember that peculiar interruptions are de rigueur for my outdoor drawing adventures. So picture me, if you will, seated just off the trail. Smell of pines. Pip of birds. Scratch of pencil. No wind. No other hikers. From time to time the sound of a vehicle drifts up from below, but it's otherwise just me and soft morning sounds.

And then the crunch of gravel and unmistakable metal ring of a shovel. Step step. Scrape. Ring. Thunk. Step step step. Scrape. Ring. Thunk. Someone is moving slowly up the trail. With a shovel. Suddenly I am reminded of creepy stories told at childhood sleepovers and a vague unease sets in. I did, after all, find what appeared to be two carpal bones just down the path.

The sound comes closer, then fades, then comes closer again. After probably half an hour it becomes clear that whoever it is is almost upon me and my pencil lines become distracted. And suddenly, there he is.

It's Larry. A trail volunteer. A retired fellow in a floppy hat, wearing a camelback and wielding a long, thin shovel. He's flipping loose stones, "ankle twisters" he calls them, out of the trail and down the hill. Scrape. Ring. Thunk. He stops to see what I am up to.

"You came all the way up here just to draw that old stump, eh?"

"Yessir, I did."

"Well. (Pause) I guess that's better than all those folk who come up here with their cell phones, goin' 'Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Click. Click. Click.' Those pictures don't even come close."

Well said, Larry. Well said. Thanks for the chat... and thanks for clearing those ankle-twisters.

Gathering up loose ends

2011-08-03T17:41:00.003-06:00

The Wednesday Knitters meet in the company of linocuts at Cafe Dawn.
I would say they were gathering loose ends, too, but Gwen
assured me she was creating more than she was tying up.

After several weeks of (apparent) absence the evening grosbeaks are back in town, chattering up a storm and gorging on whatever they can find. It's odd to be thinking of autumn migration when it seems as though summer just started, but the signs are quietly appearing. Rufous hummingbirds bully the resident broad-tails at the feeder and the neighbor's maple tree is undeniably a "yellower" shade of green than it was the last time I paid attention to it. There are back-to-school supplies piled in the aisles of the local department store.

But it's all okay with me. I'm ready to throttle back just a bit... to walk forward rather than race.

It's been a day of gathering up loose ends. I spent the morning organizing information and following up on research contacts for a client project, and this afternoon made a couple of quick stops relative to exhibitions. The first was at Café Dawn, one of several popular local coffee shops, where Monday I installed a collection of linocuts that will hang for the month of August. After that I strolled over one block to the Maverick Potter Gallery to update my inventory there and replace a couple of missing artwork labels.

A little rain shower came through and the DM and I put a big batch of cabbage rolls (cabbage from our local CSA, elk from our local meadow) in the oven and suddenly everything seems to be chugging along rather than sprinting. I don't know how long it will last, but I'm ready to enjoy it.

What's that sound? Oh, right. It's me. Breathing.

Oncoming train... or brilliant spark?

2011-07-25T08:45:00.000-06:00

This summer has felt like that oft-told joke about tunnel lights and oncoming trains. Life has been a blur since May, and I'm. Getting. Tired.

Okay, I'm actually beyond tired, but this time there really IS light at the end of the tunnel. Sort of. On Wednesday I take myself on the road again, first to Denver to take down my show at the Dos Chappell Bathhouse in Washington Park and then to Rocky Mountain National Park to teach a workshop. Next weekend I hang another little local show and then? I have about three weeks to just be home getting things done. I've plenty of contract work to keep me busy during that time, so I don't know how much printmaking will happen, but it will be nice to be more or less stationary for a bit.

Carve it, print it, scan it, clean it up
and off it goes to be a map icon.

I spent the weekend doing prep work for Friday's workshop, and last evening I managed to finish the last (?) little linocut icon for the Southeast Colorado Heritage project.

The adventure on Hog Island already seems a bit like a dream, but I have a few quick little sketches to prove otherwise. This one shares the page with a favorite quote attributed to Jack London. (Apparently there's some dispute about all but the first line, but I like it anyway.)

I read these words at dinner one night last week, inspired by the energy and enthusiasm of the fifty-seven educators who were our campers. In a crazy season like this one, Mr. London reminds me that I chose this active and busy life... and that a life well-lived can be its own reward.

"I would rather be ashes than dust.
I would rather that my spark should die out in a brilliant blaze, than it should be stifled by dry rot.
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time."

Hog Island Educators Week video

2011-07-21T15:29:00.002-06:00

Ultra-efficient Hog Island staffer Erica has already posted the slide show created by campers our last day on the island. I guess the rendering cut off the tops (read: people's heads) and bottoms of all the photos, but it's still awesome.

Hog (Island) Heaven

2011-07-21T15:13:00.000-06:00

Oh. My.

It's going to be impossible for me to write about the past week and do it any sort of justice. At least not in fewer than 50,000 words. We had amazing campers and outrageously fun and knowledgeable instructors, awesome support staff and an unparalleled location. We spent days in the field and evenings enthralled by guest speakers including author Lynne Cherry, seabird expert Steve Kress, and 12-year-old conservation activist Olivia Bouler. For now I'll let pictures tell the story... and if you want to see more, the camp has a growing Flickr site here.

Sharing Nature: An Educators' Week

Hog Island Audubon Camp from the mainland.


57 educators serving populations from pre-school through adult spent 5 action-packed days exploring coastal habitats. Here, getting up close and personal with the intertidal zone at Indian Lagoon.

What did we find in the seine net?
Crabs and sea stars, herring and lumpfish, mollusks and
crab worms, shrimp and lobster and even a flounder!

Field sketchers at work in camp.


You know you're with your peeps when one idea of a good time is sitting under the apple tree contemplating the identification of unusual animal droppings.

One of the highlights of camp week is a visit by boat to Eastern
Egg Rock, home of a re-established Atlantic puffin colony.
Campers aboard the Snow Goose III scan for seabirds.

And here are the puffins! We hit them on a great week... I was
out here once before during August and most of the birds had
dispersed already. We easily saw 100 of the little beasts... plus
gannets (my favorite), terns, gulls... and harbor porpoise!


After a few turns around Eastern Egg Rock we went ashore at Harbor Island. Picnic on the beach and then several hiking options to explore this beautiful location.

There are many habitats to discover on Hog Island, including a
small bog. Carnivorous plants here include pitcher plants and
sundews.

Spruce and pine forests dominate the center of Hog Island, and
this group of happy campers dominated the examination of
ferns, moss, and fungus on the forest floor.

Campers and staff on the last night... lobster dinner, puffin
pastry desert, and contra dancing for the masses. Thanks,
everyone, for a spectacular experience.

Sunset, Muscongus Bay, from Hog Island.
(Actually, this shot is from the door to the
women's bathroom. Not bad, eh?)

(Lobsters) Packed for Travel

2011-07-11T22:33:00.001-06:00

That's "The Hog" on the horizon.
Hog Island Audubon Camp photo.

Nearly twenty years ago I made my first (brief) trip through Maine enroute to New Brunswick, Canada. On that journey it seemed that every few miles we came across a shop with a big, friendly sign that declared "Lobsters packed for travel."*

Is it just me, or does your mind also conjure a little crustacean perched on a bench, suitcase in one claw and bus ticket in the other?

I'm no lobster, but I do have a plane ticket and a bag packed for travel. Tomorrow I'm off to join a stellar cast of instructors at Hog Island Audubon Camp near Bremen, Maine. Thursday we receive our 60 or so campers for five days of adventures in environmental education. Me? I'll be teaching field sketching and journaling. Gonna be fun!

In the meantime, Brush and Baren will be in radio silence until late next week. Pictures when I return!

*(Seriously, there's a video on this site... a charming young woman will show you everything you need to know about packing lobsters for travel.)

Fieldwork Friday: Mt Ouray SWA

2011-07-08T10:55:00.001-06:00

Mount Ouray State Wildlife Area is just a couple of miles from the house.
It's an interesting combination of riparian wetland on one side of the river
and gravel pit and historic ore smelter remains on the other.
Click to embiggen.

Determined as I am to avoid squandering the entire summer in contract work, Fieldwork Fridays are essential. Even if, as this morning, I can only get out for an hour or so.

If you're anything like me, you are constantly searching for the "perfect" sketchbook or journal for the field. I've used "store-bought" spiral- and stitch-bound books and made my own books, but never, NEVER, am I completely satisfied. I like a fine-toothed paper for drawing and writing, and something with some weight for watercolors. I don't know why I can't have both.

Once upon a time I did start working with an assortment of loose sheets, intending to bind them later.... it was a semi-successful endeavor that I may try again.

At any rate, I recently found a Daler-Rowney "Cachet" spiral-bound sketchbook with decidedly cream-colored pages, rather than white. I thought it might be easier on the eyes than the bright white (or even "soft" white) of most books, and so far that's true. Of the myriad discomforts that could (and did) arise this morning (heat, biting bugs, and allergies for starters), paper glare was not one of them.

I like the look of the cream pages, but the paper could (as usual) stand to be a little heavier. My Sharpie pen isn't bleeding through, but I can see the "ghosts" of preceding pages. And even light-handed application of watercolor causes some paper buckling. Ah, well... it's a good excuse to keep buying sketchbooks and papers.

A flash of July

2011-07-07T14:15:00.001-06:00

Um, yeah. Hot.

The summer whirlwind continues! Monday the DM and I made a quick trip to the Front Range for a gander at the Cherry Creek Arts Festival. Sculptor friend extraordinaire Bill Starke was exhibiting at the festival and encouraged us to come out and scout the scene. We saw lots of wonderful artwork (including a respectable number of printmakers), but the key word for the day was HOT! When we finally called it quits the temperature gauge in the DM's car said 100 F, and that didn't take into account the radiant heat from the asphalt streets on which the event is held.

Clouds and rain and 30 degrees cooler on Hoosier Pass.

We took a slightly longer route back to Salida, through the mountain resort of Breckenridge. It was a delight to watch the thermometer drop to 69 degrees and then to encounter rain. (My queendom for some rain here at home. As I type it's actually thundering, but I know better than to hope for anything to come of it. We've had frighteningly little precipitation here since last summer.)

Wednesday morning it was back to contract work.... some of it corn-ier than usual. (See right.) Tomorrow I'm hoping to squeeze in a little Fieldwork Friday time, and then next week I'm off to teach at Hog Island Audubon Camp in Maine! A week later it's Rocky Mountain National Park, where I'll teach another workshop and then Zoom! There goes July.

That's more like it! A drying rack full of linocuts

2011-07-02T07:34:00.000-06:00

Happiness is wet prints. Even if they're destined to be map icons.

My homemade print drying rack has been very lonely for many weeks now. Too much illustration going on, not enough printmaking. This past week, however, I've been involved in one of those projects that is a bit of both.

Birds... tractors... corn... deer... trains...cows. Can you guess
the character of the area these icons will describe?

I carved 16 little icons on unmounted linoleum. (A supplement to the 18 I carved last winter!) Originally I intended to print them with the help of Elvis Press-ley, which is why you see little "railing" lines on the top and bottom of the images, but in the end I decided it was faster to just do them by hand. I'm not yet in love with Elvis, I'm sorry to say, but I honestly haven't had a big chunk of time in which to get to know him better. Yet. Maybe this winter?

In the meantime, I've a rack full of little images that will hopefully be dry enough to scan for the designer later today. I know one isn't supposed to have favorites among one's offspring, but if you promise not to tell I'll introduce you to the "keeper" of this batch.

Fieldwork Friday (on the sly)

2011-07-01T12:46:00.002-06:00

Couldn't face another day of indoor labors without some outdoor exploring, so I wrangled myself a brief Fieldwork Friday adventure. After my usual morning walk I sat down for about 45 minutes with a sketchbook. The page itself isn't well thought out, but since I felt pressed for time I just drew whatever I could wherever I could.

There's a funny little note in the upper right...
My reading glasses were perched at the end of my nose
and suddenly an ANT ran across the top of the lenses!

Interesting to me was that I started with the distant view in the upper left and then worked closer and closer to where I was sitting. Buildings across the river, tree limb on my side of the river, rocks at my outstretched feet, plant... well... I was almost sitting on it. It wasn't planned... it just worked out that way.

Gonna go print me a stack of lino icons now!

Still carving linocut icons

2011-06-30T10:21:00.000-06:00

It's one of those projects that gets bigger the more I work on it. I'm pretty sure that's not the way it's supposed to happen.

Still a snow goose, melon, sorghum, and wheat to go. And maybe a different tractor.. it's possible they're going to want a more modern "high-tech" model after all. Oops. Good thing I just bought more linoleum.

Linocut icons... again!

2011-06-27T20:45:00.000-06:00

Duck, goose, carousel, train! Still to come: deer, fish, cowboys and grain!

Printmaking reports here at ol' Brush and Baren have been on the slim side lately. Due to The Way of Things, I find myself slammed with contract illustration projects and workshop preps and paltry little time for linocuts. Between you and me, I'm a tad grumpy about it.

You can imagine, then, the cheer I found in a contract for more linocut icons for the Southeast Colorado Heritage Area project. Today I finally got to settle in for a longish carving stint... four new little pieces are ready to print. Nine more to go. (Yippee!)

And now we're recoverin'!

2011-06-27T20:14:00.000-06:00

Hey, who's that guy in the background with the funny-looking
not-a-guitar thingy? Must be David "Stickist" Tipton.

Whew! ArtWalk weekend was HOT, in more ways than one. Saturday boasted the hottest temps of the year, somewhere in the mid-90s, and downtown Salida was filled with visual art, performance, music, and happy art-walkers.

I suspect that town was quiet today, but I wouldn't know for certain. I've had my head down at the drawing table since this morning. With CARVING tools in my hands. Yeah, baby. More soon.

Mark "The Maverick Potter" Rittman wows the crowd with
a blindfolded wheel-throwing demonstration. Fun, eh?

We're Art Walkin'!

2011-06-24T14:35:00.000-06:00

It's the 19th Salida Art Walk weekend!

I'll have work at the Maverick Potter Gallery and the Book Haven, both on F Street between 1st and 2nd.

Local galleries and businesses will be showcasing lots of art and hosting receptions tonight and tomorrow night... starting around 5:00pm most places. Music, demonstrations, performances, art and food! Sounds like a great weekend to me. Come join us if you can.

Art Hero: Francis Lee Jacques

2011-06-19T22:13:00.001-06:00

I wasn't kidding when I said we were at warp speed around here.... and not one moment of this mad dash has had anything to do with starting on a new linocut (sigh). The good news is that I have a few more linocut icons to carve for the ongoing Southeast Colorado Regional Heritage project, so at least you'll be seeing carving tools and lino chips before too much longer.

Wood ducks, from "The Geese Fly High,"
(1939) by Florence Page Jaques.
Illustrations by Francis Lee Jaques.

In the meantime, I thought it might be fun to share one of my "art heroes" with you.

It's been almost 25 years since I was introduced to the drawings and paintings of Francis Lee Jaques (1887-1969). At the time I was hanging out with "museum people," friends who either were working in the exhibits departments of natural history museums or had done so previously. It was astounding to discover such occupations existed, and a wrench to be told the field was diminishing and exhibits departments everywhere were shrinking.

Jacques was renowned in those museum circles, his background murals for the dioramas at the American Museum of Natural History are considered some of the best ever painted. It is his black-and-white scratchboard drawings, however, that delight me the most.

More than 40 books are graced with Jaques illustrations, and although many are out of print, a few have recently been republished. Titles by natural history author Sigurd Olson can be found as paperback reprints on Amazon.com... with the black-and-white Jaques illustrations reproduced as well. ( I have one, the quality isn't great, but it's still Jaques.)

William O. Douglas's "My Wilderness" books are harder to come by, but I scored my early editions inexpensively on eBay some time ago.

From "The Geese Fly High"
Click to embiggen.

It's the books by his wife Florence, however, that are my most prized Jaques-related possessions. Florence was my kind of natural history writer: Not a scientist. Not an expert. She was not a great adventurer, but she was always game, always curious, and always, always delighted by everything she experienced. Well, maybe not everything. There are plenty of passages in which she questions the sanity of her husband and his colleagues, arising in frigid dark to traverse half-frozen bogs or slogging through clouds of insects enroute to some northern lake. She wasn't afraid to admit she was often uncomfortable and ignorant. Accompanying her new husband on museum expeditions and hunting trips in the 1920s and 1930s meant she was definitely treading in "male" territory, but tread it she did, and where she couldn't find delight she could find wry and clever humor.

The combination of Florence's writing and Lee's illustrations made books like "The Geese Fly High," "Snowshoe Country," and "Canoe Country" irresistible to me. ("Snowshoe County" and "Canoe Country" have been reprinted as a single volume by the University of Minnesota Press.)

One more from "The Geese Fly High"

Lee's bold graphic sense and sensitive, calligraphic line... the balance of black and white. Wow. Just wow. I often look at these illustrations and "see" them in color... the sense of space and atmosphere seems uncanny. I love everything about this work... composition, line quality, shapes... (sigh). Yeah. Hero.

And for those of us who have recently been discussing all the jobs we've had on our way to arts careers, here's one more thing to appreciate: Francis Lee Jaques was a farmer, a taxidermist, a railroad fireman, a lumberjack, and a soldier before he found his place at the American Museum.

More about Francis Lee and Florence Page Jaques can be found at the Jaques Art Center in Aitkin, Minnesota. One of these days I'm gonna get there....

And they're off!

2011-06-12T09:40:00.002-06:00

Yesterday was the grand re-opening of the Maverick Potter Gallery on F Street in Salida!
Bigger, brighter space! More work! (Spanky new floor installed by the Potter himself.)

Summer. It's insane.

I laughed mightily the other day over a message from a friend who has a business quite different from mine. In it she mentioned the natural tendency to play more than work in the summer, a tendency of the self-employed to go easier on themselves in the summer months.

I refrained from responding with a query about what chemical substance she might be ingesting.

I suppose a slow-down happens in some lines of work, but in this household we go into overdrive from May to October. My contract work ramps up for undetermined reasons. There are exhibitions and gallery events to supply and attend. The DM's gig calendar goes haywire. Last summer we had two (count 'em, TWO) weekends between mid-May and mid-September in which one or both of us did not have a show, a gig, a workshop.... something. It's a tad frustrating, actually, because I would rather be playing. Seventy (or eighty, depending on who you ask) percent of the county where I live is public land. People come from all over the country to play in the surrounding forests, climb the 14,000-foot peaks, and splash down the river that flows through town. But it's not for us. We get our slow time in February, when it's below zero.

But this week, at least, we get to run around like headless chickens near home. David's gigs are all local. My contract work has a little room to spread out, since I don't have to cram it in between the day after we get back from somewhere and the day before we leave again.


Thanks for talking me into a ~~glass~~ ceramic goblet of wine, Mark. Even if it did mean I was half asleep by the time we got to David's gig.

Did I mention it's busy? The local farmers' market opens next weekend, and the FIBArk whitewater festival starts in three days. The following weekend is the Salida ArtWalk... I'll have work at the Maverick Potter and a few pieces at the Book Haven (both on F Street between 1st and 2nd) and the DM will play a couple of locations. The next weekend we have to go out of town again, but for now we're happy to be limiting our scurrying about to a 6-block radius of the house.

Especially since I've already emptied the walls of the house in order to supply all this summer bru ha ha. It's WAY past time to get started on a new print.

Must. Make. Prints.

"50 Best Printmaking Blogs" at Interior Design Online

2011-06-08T19:06:00.002-06:00

Yesterday I received a nice email from Tracy Myers at Interior Design Degree Online, who has compiled a list of the "50 Best Printmaking Blogs" and kindly included Brush and Baren in the cast. Thanks, Tracy!

Whew! That was fun!

2011-06-08T15:24:00.000-06:00

Thanks so much to everyone who came out for the opening of "Intimate Landscapes" at the Dos Chappell Bathhouse on Sunday! A steady stream of visitors made for a fun and slightly surreal evening as multiple lifetimes converged. Friends I've known from the age of 12 were there, as was a new friend I met only a week ago! High school and college friends, decade-in-town-of-Golden friends, Art Students League friends, raptor foundation friends, ranching friends, Artposium friends, bird observatory friends, brand-new sent-by-Salida-friends friends, and even a brave blog lurker who– surprise, surprise! lives in the neighborhood and had the gumption to show up and introduce herself. (Hi, Martha!)

Taking a seat at the end of the evening
with my longtime friend Sharon.

Yes, thanks to all of you for showing up AND for having the good grace to smile when my pattern-recognizing brain cells short-circuited from so many people out of context. There were a few times when I had to just stop and shake my head to figure out where I was.

Thanks also to the fine folks who are now giving good homes to linocuts. It delights and honors me that you're letting my work be part of your daily lives.

The only disappointment is discovering that the person I saw out of the corner of my eye snapping photos was not David. Between us we only have 3 shots of the show! I'll get more the next time we go up to Denver, but in the meantime... if you were wielding a camera and got some good pictures, can you send 'em along?

The show is up now until July 27th, and if you're in the Wash Park (Denver) neighborhood you're welcome to stop in during regular business hours, Monday-Friday, 9-5. It's worth having a look at the building, too... the front room has some great photos of this Craftsman-era bathhouse, pre-restoration.

Volunteers for Outdoor Colorado headquarters
Dos Chappell Bathhouse, Washington Park
600 S. Marion Parkway, Denver

If it's Thursday...

2011-06-02T19:36:00.000-06:00

Prints and paraphernalia accumulating... must mean a show is imminent.

Times like this it feels as though I'll never get to print again. The last few weeks have been taken up by epic contract jobs, workshop and exhibition prep, and unending administrative details. Several times in the last few days I've heard myself grimly muttering that old joke about the light at the end of the tunnel and oncoming trains.

This morning, however, I suddenly found myself with a small window of unscheduled time. I finished the 14th of 16 (!) current illustrations and got the scan organized for the project designer... and then realized that the 350mb file was going to take almost two hours to upload to the server. It's possible to do other computer work while a huge upload is underway, but the risk of disaster looms if I forget myself and start too much multitasking. (If you've ever had an upload abort after an hour, you know what I mean.) Walking away from the computer seemed like the best plan.

Two hours! Just enough time to make a few little books.

If you've followed Brush and Baren for a while you might remember when I scored a stack of wooden cigar boxes from a friend. My favorites were snug little almost-cubes about 5 x 5 x 6 inches in size– perfect for collections of small notebooks.

I always put a small notebook in my pocket when I take a walk. One never knows when insight or inspiration will strike, or when an unfamiliar bird will defy identification unless I can jot down field marks. The last book in the previous set was filled more than a week ago and I've been forced to write on my hand ever since.

Starting to fill a new box with little books!

But now I've got 5 new little notebooks in a new box and all seems right with the world again.

And not a moment too soon. This weekend I'm off to Denver to hang my exhibition, "Intimate Landscapes," at the Volunteers for Outdoor Colorado headquarters in Washington Park. The opening reception is Sunday from 4-8pm, and I'm really pleased that I won't be extending a list-festooned hand to welcome visitors. (Like you, perhaps?)

Converting to Grayscale, or, Linocuts Get Poetic

2011-05-30T21:22:00.001-06:00

At the end of April I was approached by our local poetry ensemble, the River City Nomads, about including some linocuts in their soon-to-be published chapbook. The only catch was that the work would be published strictly in black and white. Well, that... and they needed it... um... the following week, really.

One of the members brought me a draft manuscript and I started sifting through my files for appropriate images that were either already black and white or that would hold up if converted from color to grayscale. It became clear that I wouldn't have everything they needed, so on International Print Day in May I put together one additional small piece and then bundled all the scans off to the publication designer.

"On Stage – River City Nomads" was out in time for the Nomads' performances at this weekend's Colorado Art Ranch Artposium, and I was tickled to see that a few of my color linocuts converted quite well to black and white.

Dwelling on Dwellings

2011-05-30T20:45:00.000-06:00

Action-packed, mind-expanding, exhausting... that's what the weekend has been. It was Artposium time again!

I've gushed effusively about Colorado Art Ranch more than once on this blog, but if you've somehow missed my flag-waving I encourage you to check out their website and think hard about coming to their next event. (Yes, I realize not everyone lives in Colorado, but that's really no excuse.) This weekend's theme was "Dwellings: Habitat, Symbol, and Art," and featured speakers and workshops in fields from anthropology and architecture to photography and poetry. Check out this lineup:

Danny Wicke of The Rural Studio.

Architect Danny Wicke wowed us with the work of Rural Studio, which is designing artistic and environmentally responsible “shelters for the soul” for the impoverished residents of Hale County, Alabama. Check out his current project, “The $20,000 House.”
Christina Kreps, Associate Professor of Anthropology at Denver University, shared images and interpretations of the traditional architecture of Nias, Indonesia.
Leigh Davis, Brooklyn- and Washington DC-based artist, shared her photography that documents how people adapt generic living spaces, such as self storage units and YWCA rooms, in response to radically changing economic conditions.
Craig Nielson, a Salida, Colorado designer and green builder, discussed the need for portable shelter for people displaced by war and natural disasters and demonstrated the ShelterCart, a low-cost solution for humanitarian relief.
BK Loren, an award-winning Colorado author, led two writing classes: “Dwelling in Words: Finding Your Place in Writing” and “Nomad's Land: The Internal Sense of Home.”
Sandra Dorr, a Grand Junction author of poetry, essays, and short stories, led the writing session “Ancestors, Visions & Dwellings.”
Dean Dablow, Professor Emeritus of Photography at Louisiana Tech University, directed two photography classes: “The Space Between Us”

And speaking of the space between, our local River City Nomads provided poetry readings between presentations. Who was that dashing musician accompanying them, I wonder?

The general consensus among those attendees who have somehow managed to communicate post-event is that our brains are fried in the best possible way. Yeah. I love these things.


Local poets make good: Craig Nielson, Barbara Ford, Peter Anderson, Laurie James, Linda LaRocco. Musician David Tipton ain't bad, either.

Here's Craig again, demonstrating the ShelterCart. We know he's carrying a heavy
load because some one we know is riding in the back.

Hey! That's me!

Check one mini task off the list

2011-05-25T16:58:00.002-06:00

Whoo-eee! It's FINALLY nice enough to have the studio windows open today! The neighborhood is infested with evening grosbeaks and yellow warblers, their songs and chatter more entertaining without a glass filter. Why, I can even hear the serenade of crickets!

WHY am I indoors?

It's the sort of day that makes it painful to stay indoors, but stay in the studio I must. Most of the week has been given over to a big illustration project, but even when I set down my brush to take a break there are plenty of other tasks at hand. Surely Murphy recognized weeks like this and wrote some sort of pithy aphorism about inevitable simultaneous deadlines... but at the moment it eludes me.

I AM nearly a week ahead of the Salida ArtWalk "Mini Masterpiece" deadline, however. Surely that's good for a bonus point or two.

Each June local artists donate "mini" artworks for a fundraising auction during ArtWalk weekend. Through a series of unfortunate events that would make even Lemony Snicket cringe, I have never participated in previous Mini shows. This year, however, I had canvas and entry form in hand in plenty of time.

Wait. Did I say canvas?

Yeah. Canvas. The auction committee provides 4x4- or 4x6-inch stretched canvases for the work... a wee bit perplexing for a diehard works-on-paper gal like me. Thankfully some friends requested I mount a small linocut on canvas a few months ago and that successful experiment made me brave enough to try again.

Where's my baren? My brayer?

Like most printmakers, I've got a drawer full of "failed" prints. Bad registration, bad color, uneven printing... whatever. They're no good as editions... but one never knows when they might come in handy as collages.

So here's my entry for the "Mini Masterpiece" auction. Bits of four different linos are here, representing four seasons. A little PVA, a little paint, a little varnish, and voila! One deadline checked off the list.

I now return me to my regularly scheduled drawing board.

"Seasonal," linocut collage on canvas, 4x4 inches

A quick change of scene

2011-05-23T13:25:00.000-06:00

It seems as though the "summer crazies" begin earlier each year. The Heart of the Rockies has barely said goodbye to winter (it was still snowing around here last week) and suddenly our calendars are completely booked until October.

So, the DM and I take our escapes where and when we can find them, often combining them with something work-related so we can feel semi-productive (or at least not guilty). After David's Front Range gigs on Thursday and Friday last week we headed south to New Mexico. The DM arranged to connect with a fellow Stickist in Taos, and I wanted to see how the quintessential New Mexico town's gallery scene had weathered the economic rollercoaster.

Southbound I-25, headed towards Walsenburg. Interstate highways
have become a bit of a novelty for us. We hardly ever drive them.

It's apparent as you drive in to town that the galleries have struggled. One proprietor told us that 8 or 9 had closed up shop over the winter. But artists and musicians are resolute and determined. On Friday night we came across several cheerful and crowded opening receptions, and the Station Bar at the KTAO Solar Center was packed with folks enjoying live music. "Keep calm and carry on," as they say.

We squeezed a lot into just two days... galleries, music, eating, schmoozing... visits to the San Francisco de Asis Mission Church, Taos Pueblo, and of course, a short hike along the rim of the Rio Grande Gorge. It was great to get away and, as always, great to come home.

Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, about 10 miles north of Taos.

A local resident, not particularly camera shy.

Gorge Bridge and the Rio Grande, looking north.

Marxy made a mark

2011-05-17T15:48:00.003-06:00

In the trickle-down way of things, I learned this week that one of my college professors– a friend, an influence, a delightful spirit– passed away in April.

Reinhold Marxhausen, "Marxy" to those around him, danced to his own music. At the time I met him he was approaching retirement... His mysterious presence arrived in and disappeared from campus at irregular intervals. I only had one formal class with him, Modern Art History, and remember quite clearly how we arrived for the semester final to find him giggling away in a room conspicuously devoid of a slide projector. (For in those days, youngsters, images were projected on screens by means of a bright light shining through transparent colored film.)

"No slides!" he hooted. "How can you have an art history test with no slides?" We wondered the same thing, but there it was... a written exam about Isms and such! No slides. No visuals at all. Mystifying. But this was a man who also built his own coffin from a kit... decades before he could expect to need it. He kept it in his studio and said it helped him not to be afraid of death.

There were many quirky Marxy moments during the four years I spent in Nebraska, but two stand out for me. One came about during my Sculpture 1 (and only) class when Marx, renowned for his "junk sculpture" assemblages, took a liking to an armadillo I fashioned from rusty corrugated pipe and rebar. He asked me what I wanted for it, and I took a deep breath and suggested an exchange for one of his trademark sound sculptures. The deal was struck and the armadillo went to his office desk. A few days later a Stardust appeared in my campus mailbox. I was the luckiest student. Ever.

But it was a moment shared across Marxy's garden fence, and not on campus, that comes to mind most often. I was passing on the sidewalk just as Marx was collecting his mail, so stopped to visit. Marx opened an envelope as we chatted, pulled out the contents and laughed a bright belly laugh.

"What's so funny?" I asked.
"It's a rejection notice," he replied, gleefully chortling away.
Novice art-putterer that I was, I felt horrified. "That's FUNNY?" I said.
"Sure!" he exclaimed. "Look what they rejected."

He handed me a two-by-two slide. I held it up toward the sun and squinted, and then I laughed, too. The rejected piece had recently taken Best in Show honors at another (more prestigious, I might add) exhibition.

It was a hugely valuable lesson... and one which, 30 years later, still tempers each rejection notice I receive. Sure, it's disappointing not to get The Big Envelope. But every Little Envelope conjures up the smiling face of Marxy... and how can you not laugh along with a man like that? David Letterman couldn't help himself, either.

Exhibition Miscellany

2011-05-15T18:42:00.001-06:00

I finally made it the two blocks to the Salida Regional Library to check out the show "Haiku: The Essence." It really is a lovely exhibition, especially since it has introduced me to some local folks whose work I had never seen before. Here's a little shot of my piece alongside its inspiration, a "haiku of haiku" by Eduardo Rey Brummel titled "Ever So A Round."

Warp-speed preparations are also being made for the opening of my solo exhibition, "Intimate Landscapes," in Denver. The last few pieces are at the framer now, postcards have gone out, and the first round of emails... but there's still a lot to do.

If you're in Denver on June 5, I'd love to see you at the opening reception at the Volunteers for Outdoor Colorado Headquarters, Dos Chappell Bathhouse, 600 S. Marion Parkway, in Washington Park. 4-8pm. Music by none other than David Tipton, aka the Darling Man.

"Intimate Landscapes" will be on view through July 27, so if you can't make the reception you'll still have time to check things out. This will be my first exhibition in Denver in almost 10 years, and I'm looking forward to it!

And on a completely different note...

It's been cold and gray and windy around here today (sigh), and my woodcut attempt was unsuccessful, but the day hasn't been without its perks. Look who's been visiting our yard! (This shot made through the dining room window...)

Western tanager. Ain't he the bees' knees?

Fieldwork Friday

2011-05-14T13:26:00.003-06:00

Thursday morning our "niece dog" Scooby went back to her home pack. The next morning I was still adjusting to her absence, so decided it was time to reinstate Fieldwork Friday.

What? You've never heard of Fieldwork Friday? Perhaps it's because I've never mentioned it. In fact, I only decided to institute it a few weeks ago. Right before I didn't have any available Fridays in which to practice aforementioned field work.

As an artist whose work tends to focus on nature it's imperative that I spend time outside. That seems straightforward enough, but it can be maddening trying to decide how to make "productive" use of limited time. Do I draw? Do I walk? If I'm walking, am I doing it for exercise or inspiration or do I want to make finished drawings? Am I using binoculars? A spotting scope? A camera? A sketchbook? When I can't decide I end up packing everything and accomplishing nothing.

Despite my continuing efforts to be Wonder Woman I have to admit I just can't do it all. Not all at once, anyway. While I'm still working out the rules of engagement for Fieldwork Fridays, I've decided that at the very least these will be days in which I give myself permission to take an outing with only one goal. Okay, maybe two. But not five.

Yesterday's goals were 1) check two lakes in the northern part of the county for spring migrants and 2) practice using my new(ish) camera to take some reference shots for potential linos or woodcuts.

I am pleased to report the day was a complete success. Part way through the morning I was joined by a friend and we had a great time visiting long-neglected local haunts. I added several bird species to my 2011 list, including one that was new for me: semi-palmated plover (at 9000' elevation)! I took lots of photos, too. Most of them were schlock, of course, but I did score a couple of things with print potential.

It's satisfying to know that I gave these particular needs/desires (get out and about in the county, look at migrants, practice with the camera, and collect image reference) some quality time and didn't let the long list of additional things I "should" be doing with my precious outdoor time get in the way. So satisfying, in fact, that I'll do it again. Not THIS Friday, unfortunately. But soon.

Print Day in May

2011-05-07T20:35:00.000-06:00

Today was the day! International Print Day in May! I don't remember where I first heard about it, but here's the short and sweet from their blog:

"Print Day in May started in 2007 at the Monterey Peninsula College (MPC), Monterey, California. The MPC Fine Art Print Club created it to encourage printmakers everywhere to create prints on the same day... an all-inclusive printmaking effort!"

I only had half of the day to devote to printing, but I figured even a little solidarity would be better than none. I carved and printed a small single-color block... an illustration for a local poetry journal.

It's been some time since I last did a single-color image. I found it more challenging than I expected to carve this little scene of S Mountain and the Arkansas River at the edge of Salida. I'm reasonably pleased with the result, and happy to report that Elvis's new cabinet perch worked a treat.

Even more exhibition news!

2011-05-06T21:29:00.000-06:00

Well! It turns out today was super-jumbo-bonus envelope day! This morning I got "The Big Envelope" from Birds in Art via email, and this afternoon I got the "Not Quite So Big But Still Significant Envelope" from the Creede National Small Print Show.

Both pieces I submitted to the show were accepted, and one was chosen for the traveling exhibition. That's three-for-three today...can we call it an exhibition trifecta?

11th Annual National Small Print Show
Creede Repertory Theatre
Creede, Colorado
Opening reception: Saturday, May 28th, 4:00pm
Show runs through June.

Getting The Big Envelope, via email

2011-05-06T11:48:00.003-06:00

If you've ever entered a national or international juried exhibition, you know about The Big Envelope.

The Big Envelope means your work has been accepted. The Big Envelope is full of instructions for shipping and catalog photography and loan agreements. The Little Envelope has a very polite "perhaps next time" letter.

It's been fourteen years since I last had work accepted to the international Birds in Art exhbition at the Leigh Yawkey Woodson Art Museum. (Granted, I can only remember submitting a piece once during those fourteen years, and you can't win if you don't play!)

"Submit work to Birds in Art" has had a perpetually neglected spot on my annual To Do list for a long time now. The show's April submission deadline is always the same, but year after year I let it pass because I haven't felt I had anything strong enough to submit.

This year, though, I had the newly-completed "Ripples," which received many favorable comments from blog readers and Facebook friends.

"Hmmm," I thought. "Hmmmm."

I made the submission at the last minute and told no one, save the DM, that I had done so. And until this morning I put it out of my head completely.

The Big Envelope comes electronically now, but I still had that same heart-stopping moment when I saw something from the Woodson Museum in my inbox instead of my mailbox. That intense feeling of hope-braced-for-disappointment made it difficult to comprehend the letter... all I could do on that first read was skim for the word congratulations. And then the words: "Ripples has been selected."

There is always excitement and gratification when a Big Envelope arrives (by whatever method). But this one is special. My first selection to Birds in Art was in 1991, exactly 20 years ago. That exhibition marked the start of my journey as a professional artist and introduced me to friends who have never wavered in their support, even during the times I stopped working completely. Some of them, I already know, will be there this year, too. To say I am looking forward to attending the opening is a major understatement. See those ripples behind the duck? They're actually caused by me, vibrating with delight.

A Royal Dog, a Squeaky Beaver, and a home for Elvis

2011-04-30T22:44:00.000-06:00

Unusual weeks are the norm around here (if that makes any sense at all), but these past seven days have been really unusual.

The week started with a watercolor illustration project which, I am pleased to report, has been completed and already approved by the client! No, wait. I'm wrong.

It started with a dog.

The DM and I don't have any pets, partly because I'm allergic to everything but goldfish and partly because our schedules are too erratic to allow any sort of stability for critters. But this week we've been sharing our space with our "niece dog," Scooby. Scooby is a labradoodle (labrador-poodle cross), so she's acceptable on the allergy spectrum. And she's a sweet, mild-mannered creature, to boot.

There's been a lot of talk about royalty this week. Auntie says
I'm a Royal Goofball, so they all must be talking about me.

Of course any extra body in the house is disruptive, and it's taken dog and dog-sitters time to get used to each other. But how could you not be entertained by a face like this? (And a Squeaky Beaver. Don't forget the Squeaky Beaver.)

We must drag ourselves out of the hound's orbit, however, and get some work done around here. For me it's been illustrations and other contract projects. For the DM it's been new music videos. In the week ahead, however, I know I'll be twitchy to get back to printing because today Elvis finally got a new home.

The DM is handy as a Dog Entertainer and a Tool Box Assembler.

The arrival of Elvis Press-ley (a Richeson Baby Press) at the end of February unsettled things in the studio in much the same way that Scooby unsettled our household routine. I've been moving Elvis around the studio, looking for an efficient working location and a sturdy work surface. (Scooby's been moving around the house trying to find the perfect napping spot.) My tables are all too low, and I need every bit of horizontal surface I have already. (If you saw the photo of my work surfaces during the course of an illustration project, you'll know what I mean.) Elvis is "portable," but at 65 pounds it's not something I want to be constantly shifting from table to table as I work on other projects. It is possible to buy a press stand, but in my small space every piece of furniture must serve several purposes.

A solution eluded me until a few weeks ago when we were in Colorado Springs. I wandered into the tool area of a department store and there it was! A rolling steel tool chest!

Just the right dimensions! Moveable! With storage drawers! Best of all, it could be delivered (free!) to a small appliance outlet in nearby Poncha Springs, rather than the main store 2 hours away.

This morning we picked it up, and I must say I'm feeling rather smug about this solution. The drawers will hold my tools and inks and even a good number of blocks. Elvis sits smartly on the top at a comfortable height. I can roll it next to a work table or under the print rack or just leave it against the wall where it is. The wheels lock, and I'm going to get a piece of pressboard to fit in the top, both for extra stability and in case I want to bolt the press in place.

I'm excited to give it a run and see how it all works. But at the moment I have to give myself a run to get a towel, because The Dog and The DM just came in from a walk and they look like this:

Unexpected perspective

2011-04-27T10:02:00.001-06:00

Well, here's something you haven't seen in a while...

Illustration-in-progress. Hey, where's my printing stuff?

I'm in full-on paint mode for contract work this week, which feels a little odd. It's been a while since I've had any "brush" to share on Brush and Baren, because it's been weeks since I've had paints on the table and a brush in my hand. A couple of months ago, in the midst of another illustration project, I experienced an astounding revelation:

I quite dislike brushes.

Actually, the word I chose at the time was significantly stronger than "dislike," but since I really do need cooperation from this particular tool at the moment, it seems prudent to call a truce.

My path to image-making has been anything but a straight line (ahem). I didn't set out to be an artist, I set out to be a teacher. Little moments along the way– a nudge here, a pat on the back there– encouraged me to pick up a pencil, then a brush, then etching tools. Even clay and stone. But art was something I would teach, not something I would do full time. Shows you what I knew.

It's interesting to look back and see how a hundred little "insignificant" actions and conversations led me to where I am now. Twenty years ago I started painting because there were learning opportunities available and I took advantage of them... first in oils, then in watercolor. I met other artists– painters all– and hung around with them. I wanted to be them. But while I think of myself as a reasonably competent painter I have never been a comfortable painter. If I want to make a mark I don't automatically reach for a brush. I reach for a pencil. Or a gouge.

It's only in the last 2 or 3 years that I've realized it's okay not to be a painter. I've never been terribly comfortable with calling myself an artist, either (too much baggage attached to the term), but I answer to printmaker as readily as my own name.

Some projects still call for paint, of course, and for some endeavors only a brush will do. It's a nice diversion once in a while, but it's also a helpful reminder of who I really am. I'm a printmaker, and whenever I doubt it all I have to do is pick up a brush to put everything back in perspective.

Prints, books, and a definition of insanity

2011-04-23T16:33:00.001-06:00

Implements of obsessive compulsion.

Oh, YOU know the Albert Einstein quote: "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result." I'm still working on the aforementioned not-fit-for-public-consumption print, and it's getting worse rather than better. I should probably just bag the whole thing, but I have been programmed by decades of "we learn better from our mistakes" propaganda. No doubt I'll carry on to the bitter end, hoping some insight will come of it.

When I'm in this sort of printing quagmire I'm never quite certain if looking at the work of other people is inspirational or depressing. My feed reader, oblivious to my mental state, keeps throwing the posts of (currently) productive printmaker/bloggers in my path and of course I look at them. Will I be inspired or chagrined? Or perhaps both?

If my feed reader doesn't provide enough torment, then I take a gander at my long list of bookmarked artist websites. Last week I popped in to see what Ian Phillips was up to, and darned if it didn't end up costing me confidence (briefly) AND cash.

Ian has published a book of his reduction linocuts. Oy vey! I had to have it. Drawing the Line arrived yesterday and it's a thing of beauty. (You can preview the book either on Ian's website or in the Blurb bookstore.)

The DM and I harbor a strong desire to visit Wales, and Ian's work only deepens that desire. His ability to imbue the Welsh landscape with mystery, richness, and drama using a limited palette and bold design I find completely engaging. And humbling. Here I am, noodling away at all this crazy detail, and Ian's graceful and graphic line says it all. Thank you, Mr. Phillips, for sharing your work in way that I can obsess over at my leisure.

The good news is that Drawing the Line scores as inspiration, renewing my desire to get out and scour my own landscape for its reduction-printable essence. Thanks for that, too, Ian. I have to get back to work.