World Migratory Bird Day 2020!

Embiggenable with a click!

At long last we are settled on a poster design for this year's World Migratory Bird Day! Twelve linocut birds connect conservation efforts across the world, and hopefully bring smiles to bird-lovers along the way.

I'm honored and excited to be part of this year's global conservation education campaign. While the "official" date will be celebrated in the Americas on May 9, there are hundreds of events taking place throughout the year. For the poster design I created twelve different linocut birds-- species of focus for this year's theme. The birds were printed in black on watercolor paper and then hand-painted. (I also painted the map!) Watch for a video about this later this week!

In addition to the poster there will be t-shirts, stickers, buttons, temporary tattoos.... the works! Items will be available through the WMBD shop.... I'm guessing maybe late February. (Posters go to print early in the month.) The website also provides lots of resources for event organizers, so if you'd like to celebrate in your own neighborhood, the folks at WMBD can help you out!

Linocut in Progress: The Semi-secret Project

As I type this we're getting ready for our first significant snowfall of the season here on the coast of Maine and I find I'm actually looking forward to it. I've got hot cocoa in the cupboard and wood piled next to the stove... and plenty to do in both the studio and the office. Staying in and getting work done sounds fabulous to me.

It's not quite time to reveal the ultimate goal of the project I'm working on at the moment, but I think it's okay to show you some work in progress. I've been carving, printing, and painting a dozen individual linocut birds. When finished they'll be part of a larger image with a potentially huge audience, so it's all rather exciting.

I'm printing the birds on Arches 140lb watercolor sheets, and I've found that it works best to use damp paper. That's different from my usual working method, but once I found the right level of dampness and the right press pressure the printing process has been amazingly smooth. Maybe it's the fact that I'm just printing one color that makes it seem so miraculously painless. No 15-color-pass headaches in this job.

Of course I'm on a deadline, so to expedite things I added some cobalt drier to the ink. This is something I typically try to avoid, for a number of reasons. I dislike the smell for one... and if used over multiple color passes I dislike how it changes the sheen of the ink. But what I really hate is that it is toxic stuff, and I have a solvent-free studio. But sometimes you've just gotta do what you've gotta do.

The whole project needs to be done before the end of the month, so there's no time for messing about. Stay tuned for the big reveal and announcement, probably right around Christmas.

It's that time of year!

Ah, spring. Migrants are arriving. Grass is turning green. And warp speed must be engaged. 

April and May are The Crazy Months for me– a time when jury submissions are due and show notifications are received and the Colorado Governor's Show opens. I'm also getting together and delivering summer work for the galleries, especially since I'll be headed back to Maine at the beginning of June. Holy cow! That's not much more than a month away.

There hasn't been much happening in the studio in way of new linos, but it doesn't mean there hasn't been work going on. Quite the opposite, in fact!

First up was a commission piece for the Bird Conservancy of the Rockies, to honor a long-time staff member who is leaving the flock for another position. Jason has spent much of his time at BCR studying black swifts, a mysterious little species that nests behind waterfalls and whose insubstantial little feet oblige it to cling to rock walls instead of perching. 

"The Coolest Bird," hand-colored linocut ©Sherrie York (embiggenable with a click)

Their secretive nature and difficult-to-reach nests make it difficult for me to collect my own reference, so I'd like to give a big shout-out to photographer Bill Schmoker for his help there. I did see a black swift once. It was a black dot in the shade on wet rocks behind a waterfall. Not very helpful.

After the swifts were winging their way to their final destination I started work on an illustration project for Colorado Parks and Wildlife. Long-time readers of Brush and Baren may remember that the early posts of this blog (ten years ago now!) had more paint than ink in them. Funny how times change, although it's nice to revisit watercolor once in a while. 

Illustrations in progress. Western meadowlark, great horned owl, dusky grouse.
(No, this isn't the rare subspecies of footless grouse. I just haven't gotten there yet!)

Tomorrow I'm off to Colorado Springs to present a demonstration for the Colorado Springs Art Guild, and then Friday it's back to Loveland for the opening of the Governor's Show. In between I'm hoping to get a new reduction lino ready to roll. But of course there's framing to do and... 

I'll freak myself out if I think about it too much, so it's back to work. If in the next couple of weeks you happen to see a short, blonde-ish woman running around in circles with a brush in one hand and a brayer in the other... well... say hello. It's probably me.

Innovation in Conservation Award Winner: Colorado Birding Trail

We interrupt our regularly-scheduled linocut adventures to bring you this fun bit of news from a couple of weeks ago.

Long-time readers are probably aware that from time to time I put down my carving tools and take on some design and illustration projects. Most of these projects involve my chief interests: natural history, wildlife, and conservation. At several points during the past few years I've been fortunate to contribute some illustration and design work to the development of the Colorado Birding Trail, which was recently honored for Innovation in Conservation at the Southern Colorado Conservation Awards.

The project's Fearless Leader, John Koshak, was unfortunately not able to join us at the awards ceremony, but to my great delight several of our team converged from points across the state, including longtime friends Scott and Erika Hutchings of Cry Baby Design, who are pictured here with me and the beautiful glass sculpture that was presented to the project.

The Colorado Birding Trail is a major nature tourism initiative to promote outdoor recreation, conservation of resources by private landowners, and a diversified income for rural economies. One of the most unique features of the trail is the private lands that have been opened to visitation only through their participation as sites on the trail.

It's a great project, and I am happy to have played a small part in bringing it to fruition. If you're a birder and you're headed to Colorado you should check out the website and get your hands on some of the free guidebooks.... and then hit the trail!

Hoppiness is a toad linocut

Ready to print!

Perhaps I should call it a toad-o-cut. This cheery fellow is part of a small contract job that just came up for one of our local natural resource agencies.

Once common in montane habitats (7,000-12,000 feet elevation) here in the southern Rockies, the boreal toad (Bufo boreas boreas) population has declined significantly in the last 20 years, due in part to infection by the Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis (Bd) chytrid fungus. 

The boreal toad is listed as an endangered species in both Colorado and New Mexico, and is a protected species in Wyoming. One of its strongholds lies in the national forest on the western boundary of my county, and last year I worked with the US Forest Service and Colorado Parks and Wildlife to create an information kiosk about that critical toad habitat. Our little buddy here will expand that public information effort by appearing on some cautionary signs.

I'd watch my step if I saw this, wouldn't you?

A rare "brush" post for Brush and Baren...

Perhaps I should have titled this post "Where-the-heck-did-she-go Wednesday."

The answer is that she got chained to the drawing table for the past week. Trip to the Front Range? Cancelled. Mostly because of weather, but also because I had multiple illustration deadlines in head-on collision. The good news is that I have work, the bad news is that it's keeping me away from the press.

Illustration in progress for an interp panel in the local state park.

In between bouts of sitting at the drawing table I've been sitting at the computer. (How dumb is THAT?) A major overhaul of my website is underway! It's going to be great when it's finished, but right now it's just tedious. I'm switching everything out of Dreamweaver and learning to use WordPress... trading one persnickety beast for another. But as I said... it's going to be great when it's finished.

I sent files for two jobs off to proof last night, and as a reward for good behavior I started prepping paper for a new print. Going to make the leap to a slightly larger image this time: 12 x 18. And something landscape-y rather than birdy. Can't wait to get started!

We interrupt this linocut

Yeah. Illustrations due. Can you tell by the state of my work space? Those are watercolors and brushes (shudder) on my table, and reference photos everywhere. The print bench lies in sad, lonely darkness. I should be done with this project at the end of the day and then we can get back to printmaking, okay?

Making (linocut) hay while the sun shines

Literally! Making linocut hay. Or at least making an image of hay out of lino. Fun, eh? The crazy, never-ending map icon project reappeared last week with a new list of 10 more images to create. I wasn't quite sure what to do about item #7 (hay), but I'm hoping this bale will do the trick. What do you think?

Everything's at fever pitch again... how DOES this keep happening? I've got three illustration projects, a writing project, a design project, three multi-day workshops to prep, an art festival to get ready for AND this weekend is Salida's annual ArtWalk. And, gee... one of these days I'm going to actually get back to work on my own stuff. Really I am.

If you're in Salida this coming weekend, stop on by the Maverick Potter on F Street. On Saturday the local linocutter (that's me) will be in da house, as will the local Stickist and the potter of maverick tendencies. I'm pretty sure there won't be any hay bales, but you just never know.

This blog DOES say "brush" in the title, after all

Brush and Baren. There was a reason for the title, 'way back at the end of 2006 when this blog began. At that time I was still spending time wielding a brush and sloshing paint– at least more than I have been lately.

This week I'm back to being a woman of many hats: printmaker, illustrator, writer, painter, photo researcher, administrator, and even vintage magazine seller while a friend is out of town and her online store needs minding. Thankfully at least one of those tasks will be finished after tomorrow. I'm feeling a bit... stretched.

But I was pleasantly surprised to have some watercolor illustrations work out as well as they did over the weekend. A few shorebird beaks and their different foodstuffs were the topic, and by golly both brushes and pigments (not to mention eye-hand coordination) were cooperative.

It's back to the lino illustrations tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Flashback

The print bench remains empty. Well, not exactly empty. I'm getting ready to hang a solo show at the Paquette Gallery here in Salida on Tuesday, so there are boxes of framed work stacked in the spot where I usually keep the registration jig.

I do have a couple of print-related things to share later this week, but tonight it's time for a little trip in the Wayback Machine.

Four years ago tomorrow the Darling Man and his packed-to-the-gills car arrived here from Ohio. Some of his belongings were already piled in the living room, which evolved from my space to our space in the time it took for David and the rest of his gear to step across the threshold.

A few months prior to that historic moment, however, we'd conducted a sort of living/working test drive at David's digs in Ohio. I shipped my computer, paints and paper to Cleveland for the entire month of January. Yes, January. In Cleveland. (If you don't believe me, check out the Cleveland posts.)

During that period I worked on an illustration for a wayside panel that was later installed overlooking the Garden of the Gods park in Colorado Springs. Crazy thing is, I never actually saw the sign completed until last Friday.

David had morning and evening gigs to play in nearby Manitou Springs that day, so in the intervening hours we spent a little time in the park. Our plan to do some hiking was blown away by uncomfortable wind, and while we were trying to decide what to do instead I remembered this sign. Off we went to find it.

Four years after installation the panel is in pretty good shape, except that the colors have faded significantly in the intense Colorado sun. We expect this. If a sign "guaranteed" to keep its color 10 years makes it to five around here, we're feeling pretty smug. (You can get a sense of what the colors DID look like here.)  The part of the illustration that shows the "Kissing Camels" formation has been worn off by countless fingers.. which I didn't expect, but I quite liked. It's good to know the piece has been useful to people.

It felt a little strange to stand next to this sign, both because I had only ever seen it on my computer screen and because it is so strongly connected in my mind to Ohio and the early days of my relationship with David. When I first walked up to it I felt as though I had discovered my forgotten diary propped up in a public place.

I've done a lot of wayside signs, but until yesterday I had never considered that they are as much about my history as they are about the natural and cultural history of the place where they are installed. It's an interesting revelation and I felt my attitude toward them shift just a little. They're no longer just public pieces, they are personal, too.

Back to work

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!

Even MORE linocut icons!

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!

Oncoming train... or brilliant spark?

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."

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

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.

Linocut icons... again!

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!)

Unexpected perspective

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.

Um... what just happened?

I am (somewhat uncharacteristically) at a loss for words. Or at least I'm unable to succinctly describe the last week. It's been quite the ride.

A warm weekend sketch from the F Street Bridge. 
65 degrees on Saturday! 75 degrees colder on Monday.

Someone must have finally figured out that we were getting more than our share of good weather. Things cooled off considerably on Sunday, and by Monday (when we were headed to Colorado Springs to shuffle around exhibitions) it was downright cold. And snowy. And windy. Sub-zero temps before windchill. Tuesday's drive home via the canyon was a slow one.

But we arrived without mishap, which is more than I can say for a friend who was traveling from Denver to Salida at about the same time. He was swiped by a hit-and-run semi-truck near Kenosha Pass. I'm happy to say he's fine, but his vehicle? Not so much.

It felt good to be home.

Wednesday morning, however, things went really crazy. Art Biz Coach Alyson Stanfield featured the story of the "Art Underfoot" video in her weekly e-newsletter and I was suddenly, fabulously, overwhelmed with kind and supportive and wonderful messages from many directions. Thanks Alyson, and thanks to everyone who took the time to comment here or send me an email. I'm trying to catch up with you all individually, but it's a long list!

Of course, it didn't stop there. The story was picked up by Katherine Tyrell at Art of the Landscape and Making a Mark. If you don't know Katherine's blogs I encourage you to check them out. She does an amazing job of keeping up with what's going on with art in the UK and beyond and she facilitates all sorts of connections between artists and art enthusiasts. Katherine's post was subsequently picked up at The #printmaking Daily.

New reader Robin, of Miss Robin's Art Class did a lovely feature about my work and the video got a shout in the Colorado Art Ranch newsletter. Oh. My.

By yesterday it was crunch time for a client project, though, and I ended up spending 10 straight hours chained to the drawing table. Ooph. Not my favorite way to work. Since I am easily distracted by clutter I usually try to keep things tidy, but by mid-day it looked as though someone had dumped the paper recycling bin across all three tables in here.

Wait. Is that paint on the table? What's up with that?

But now it's Friday night, and although one doesn't usually equate Fridays with a fresh start it is also the beginning of the Year of the Rabbit. A new rabbit hasn't hopped to my print jig recently so I'll have to share an older one with you. I think the lead character in this image has something to say about my present state of mind.

I'm back to that snowy linocut this weekend. Hurrah! (As soon as I clear off my workspace.)

When the cleanup takes longer than the printing...

I did, indeed, manage to print all 18 linocut icons on Saturday. The printing itself didn't take too long, but cleaning 18 little blocks sure did! Ooph. It took the wind out of my sails in a big way, and I spent the rest of the day in a rocking chair with my nose in a book. Time to abandon the Wonder Woman persona.

I'm reasonably happy with most of the images, although there are one or two that I'm less pleased with now that they're printed. I'm going to scan everything tomorrow and send it off to the client and see what she has to say, so watch for at least a few critters to show their little faces here as they are approved. (Or not.)

You might be able to see from this deliberately vague photo that the images seem to have odd smudges top and bottom. This was also deliberate... I left small "railings" of uncarved lino along the edges of each block to support the brayer when inking and hopefully avoid too much stray ink where I didn't want it. Seemed to work. Since these are not prints to edition but illustrations to scan and have in a digital format, the extraneous blobs won't ultimately be seen. Photoshop, baby.

Of course there was that OTHER block in the jig on Friday, too.

I didn't intend to do yet another snow shadows piece, but I think I'm being subconsciously influenced by our complete lack of the white stuff in Salida this year. Snow all around us, but here in town? I don't think we've had an inch TOTAL all season. Not kidding. (Come to think of it, though... I did snow pieces this time last year, too.)

The big 16 x 20 piece is still mentally incubating, but I wanted something else to work on in the meantime. This new lino-to-be is a reworking of an image I did in black and white a few years ago. Block size is 9 x 12.

Funny. I just realized that Stuart Brocklehurst over at Wildlife with Pen and Brush started a snow piece this weekend, too. I'm intrigued by what he has going already, pop over and check it out.

Linocut icons... progress!

I really need to get the vacuum in here. I just swept another pile of lino crumbs into the bin, but they're tracked through the rug and hiding behind every piece of furniture in the studio. (Ahhhh.... life is good!)

I didn't intend to spend my entire Sunday carving an outhouse (!) and a tiny jail, but there you have it. There are now 14 little linocuts carved and awaiting an adventure with ink, paper, and baren, but I've still 4 more on the to-do list for this round of the icon project. They're all just critters from here on out, no more covered wagons or grain elevators– at least for now.

Multi-carving?

Whoo-ee! Look at this view from the front porch this morning. Fiery! The remainder of the day has been rather gray... rumor has it that there's a storm coming. (Although we still haven't had any snow to speak of here in the upper Arkansas River valley, so it's hard to get excited about that sort of rumor.)

It's been a good day to stay indoors and work on the icon project. I have 6 blocks carved (14 or so more to go), but haven't started printing. For this particular project I left the linoleum unmounted, something I don't often like to do. But mounting takes time and material, and mounted blocks require more space for storage than do unmounted pieces. Since these are intended to be single color prints, well, it just seemed the most efficient way to work.

The other nice thing is that the unmounted linoleum responds very quickly to being set on the space heater in the studio. Warm lino cuts like butter, a consideration when facing a long carving project. My hands and shoulders appreciate a break.

So far the most fun little block to carve has been this 1930 (late 1920s?) Ford school bus. Charming, eh?

The funny thing about this project is that I've been working on these first six images simultaneously, rather than finishing them one at a time. I keep going from one to the other... a little carving here, a little carving there. I'm usually more of a one-at-a-time, start-to-finish sort of person. I don't like having too many things to juggle at the same time. Which probably sounds ludicrous to anyone who reads Brush and Baren very often. There's usually a lot going on around here.

Ferinstance, the next couple of weeks I expect my attention to be divided by an exhibition installation, several contract illustrations, and workshop preparations. I don't think I have enough brain cells available in the current budget to start in on the 16 x 20 chunk of lino that I mounted last week, but I don't want to lose momentum. This morning I mounted a small block for a new reduction print, to add to the queue with the 20 icons.

But, hey, lest you think I'm a neurotic printaholic... (okay, okay, I see your point)... I'd like you to know I DO still have the capacity to recognize other human beings and engage them in conversation once in a while. Just ask Jill Bergman of Art on the Page! Jill and her husband live in Steamboat Springs, another mountain town about 180 miles from here, but they both have roots in Salida. We had never met in person, until today! They were down visiting family and stopped by for quick visit before they headed back to the snowier end of the state. It's so nice to have a face and a voice to accompany the delightful work Jill shares on her blog. I encourage you to stop on over there and tell her hello, and check out her little traveling print book project, too. (Thanks for taking the time to connect, Jill!)

There's another human being here I'd like to engage in conversation for a while this evening, so it's time to sweep the lino crumbs off the table and hide the carving tools from myself for a few hours. It's Wednesday night, AKA "unplug-the-technology-and-spend-quiet-time-with-the-Darling-Man-night"!