Artfusion | The Holy Art
Kicking off at 1900 on 27 February, I will be taking part in my first online exhibition, run by The Holy Art. My print of the South Bank Centre, the first in a new series, will be featured.
This new print, my largest so far at 56 x 76 centimetres, was created at Morley College in London, where I take part in a workshop with a small number of wonderful artists who never fail to inspire me in a hundred ways.
www.theholyart.com
South Bank One, photopolymer etching, 56 x 76 cm.
T’is the season
Somehow we have ended up in November - time seems to have a different measure during Covid - and I will be at two fairs in the next two weeks. I will have a stand with my wonderful Chiswick Creative collective this coming weekend, and will have a work on the wall the following weekend at Kew Studio. Come on along.
16 February 2019
‘Brutalist Printmaking with Temple Prints’
When I was made redundant, I knew that a major change had to be made to my working life. I thought photography would definitely play a part, somehow, and thought writing would also feature. It didn’t quite work out that way.
As a member of the Barbican, I was alerted to a linocut workshop there and was intrigued. Never having picked up a linocut tool in my life, I didn't know what to expect, but the experience – from listening to the wonderful tutor Jamie Temple talk about v-gouges to inking up my first print (^) – was a blast. More importantly, a fog had lifted – THIS is what I wanted to do. There is the cliché of actors and the smell of the greasepaint – I was now, like all printmakers, high on the smell of linseed oil.
Knowing that Jamie worked at East London Printmakers, I decided to embark on my first proper printmaking course there. And so it began.
On a plate
There is a certain thrill when an inked-up plate begins to reveal itself.
Before that thrill, though, there is much to do. Buy the plate, tweak the photograph, run the film acetate, go to Artichoke Print Workshop to process the plate (aquatint screen, wait, acetate, wait, soak, sponge sponge sponge, rinse, wipe wipe wipe, blow dry, harden) then all the preparation at the studio for the next stage – printing.
Space? Paper? Ink? Plate oil? Colour? Or colours? Registration? Placement? The variables are many. The likelihood of mistakes, errors, mishaps or – worst of all – mediocrity, high. Nevertheless.
There is a moment or two of contemplation before cast-off. Then, as the scrim starts to wipe away the ink and the image comes through … Hallelujah.
Serendipity
Greeting card by @bloemen_and_blue (bloemenandblue.com)
We went to Scotland in the spring of 2019, a few months after I finished my last publishing job. Or as some might see it, after my last proper job. We were told about a fantastic fish restaurant in the local area, Kishorn Seafood Bar, so off we went. I quote from their website: “Located at the head of Loch Kishorn it enjoys spectacular views of Skye and the Applecross hills and is not to be missed for seafood lovers.” It is fantastic, and I want to go back immediately, but that’s not the point of this story.
At the till, we found some very special greetings cards, cyanotypes, and I was intrigued. We bought two cards – one was given to a dear friend, and I kept the other, unable to part with it. With my interest in alternative photographic techniques, and this is one of the oldest, I said, ‘I want to try to make cyanotypes’. So I did, and still do.
Almost precisely one year on from making my first cyanotype, I posted on Instagram one of my latest pieces. It drew a new follower – the very artist who created those greetings cards and who compelled me to try the technique. I was strangely overwhelmed, even tearful, but also filled with a sense of joy. I didn’t quite know what it meant, but it doesn’t matter. I guess I was so thrilled how my life has changed for the better since becoming an artist, and she played a part in that.
I wrote to the wonderful artist and told her the story. I thanked her for the inspiration. We are still in touch. It reinforced my feeling about the fantastic printmaking community.
If our friend hadn’t told us about Kishorn, if we hadn’t gone to the fish restaurant, if I didn’t pick up the card, if if if. I wonder if I would have tried cyanotypes at that point? It made me think of the lines in the film ‘Letter From an Unknown Woman (1948)’:
“The course of our lives can be changed by such little things. So many passing by, each intent on his own problems. So many faces that one might easily have been lost. I know now that nothing happens by chance. Every moment is measured; every step is counted.”
Firsts
In July 2020, I took on my first studio, exactly a year to the day after becoming a member at London Print Studio. With their closure, I had to find another open access print studio home, which was rather impossible to do during a pandemic. I decided to take a massive leap and lease space of my own. Given I’d only been a printmaker for 12 months or so, this was either brave or foolhardy. Or perhaps a mix of both.
I contacted Worton Hall Studios, home to three of the biggest printmakers in the country, and where small studios can be leased, and with incredible luck, their smallest studio was available. Within a week, it was mine. It’s wonderful to be so close to this community, but I was also thrilled to be so close to film history – this used to be the Isleworth Film Studios, and plaques to my idols Welles, Hepburn and Bogart hang a few feet from my studio window.
With the new studio, I needed a printing press. At the Woolwich Print Fair the previous year, I spoke briefly to John Pears of Rollaco Presses. I called John to discuss his availability. He had just finished his backlog on the previous work day’s afternoon and was able to start building a press for me immediately. It was meant to be.
Anyone can draw …
So said John Phillips, when I took his wonderful, innovative course at the London Print Studio, also featuring master printer-artist Darren van der Merwe and artist Liorah Tchiprout. And somehow, once I silenced my ‘internal policeman’ and just surrendered myself to the materials, something happened – I could draw. I could express myself in graphite, at least.
The third and final session started badly. A clichéd transport hell + monsoon morning meant I was very late, very annoyed and very flustered. On arrival, I peeled off my jacket and John told me what to do – sketch an articulated mannequin lit with a lamp behind gauze. Quickly, without ‘thinking’. 15 seconds NEXT 20 seconds NEXT 30 seconds NEXT one minute. I was completely lost in the moment, and my irritations completely evaporated. I absolutely loved it, and my drawings worked (mostly). And what's more remarkable? John said I had the makings of a cartoonist.
After this course, I decided to be a member of the LPS, one of the best decisions I could have made. Every visit was a learning experience and I met some truly amazing artists, who remain friends and inspirations. The studio’s closure was heartbreaking, but I intend to hold on to John’s parting message: ‘keep the spirit alive’.
For more on LPS and what we have lost: https://www.theartnewspaper.com/comment/london-print-studio