As I'm planning to do some new work that I'm going to have to learn new skills for, and some for which I need to revive long-sleeping ones, I thought that it was important to make some plein air drawings, too, and do some printing, as there might be nothing to show for the new techniques for a while. We all need encouragement, and I find that doing some work that goes well is cheering and spurs me on to try new things. Here are some mountboard drypoints- where I initially drew outdoors on the printing plates at the beach, and then prepared them back home, and some drawings/paintings in pencil, watercolour, and sometimes pastel- and sand, too- thrown on to dry the paint so that I could move on to a new picture without wrecking the old. Most of these are smallish. The maximum is probably around A4.
Last night, I had ideas for pictures. I couldn't sleep, as my mind was racing.
If you came along to my recent show or have followed my work on Instagram or Facebook, you may have noticed that I've done a bit of work with both copper plate, and copper wire. I wanted to extend this, to make more solid sculptures, and have been looking at silver soldering equipment. I bought more copper wire, but added brass and stainless steel wire to the mix, and a book on soldering by Rebecca Skeels, which is very helpful. The beautiful problem is that this has given me more ideas. One of these was inspired by the place in her book in which the metal plate is stamped and silver solder run into the crannies. How about if I were to engrave lines and do the same? This thought led me on an interesting path of researching things like patination on copper and whether it can be maintained once you have it, or not. Previously, I wanted to avoid any oxidisation, so that I could keep the shiny, reflective surface as part of the picture, but now I'm also interested in intentionally allowing areas of the work to become verdigrine- is that even a word? I mean covered in verdigris. And so it was that I ended up watching a YouTube video about inlaying metal, and now I'm looking into doing this, and inlaid work in wood and stone... I would like to do all of this. It's very like finding an unnoticed doorway that leads into a number of interesting rooms. There are 2 big minuses and one perceived one about not specialising, that come to mind. 1. If you spread it all too thin, you end up not excelling at anything much- you might become decently good at a number of things, but not hit the heights with any of them. 2. You can end up with huge amounts of kit, and that takes up space, needs to be kept in good condition, and could be very costly. It seems silly and wasteful to have lots of things that never get used. 3. I used to get told that I would need to find a style/technique/subject matter and stick to it, if I wanted to sell my work well. There is a point, in that galleries are used to artists producing something predictable that fits in with what they do, but if you're doing your own show, I find that variety is fine. 4. A bonus objection is that if you're studying art, you may find that your tutors want you to specialise. This was the case with me. If you have separate departments and studio spaces for sculpture, printing and painting, say, then someone who walks all of those paths could be tricky to house. I also think, though, that it makes work difficult to mark, and often markability is what many courses are looking for, and no easy thing to get to when you have some students making abstract paintings, others cobbling together random objects and looking for a concept to use, and others doing figurative work- something with massive variety, itself. What are the pluses? 1. It's fun. You shouldn't get bored. 2. You may be less likely to get stuck or discouraged. You may also be less likely to physically overdo it and get a repetitive strain injury. 3. You will be able to choose a technique that fits your subject, and the materials that you have available. 4. Learning new skills, and mastering them is a lovely thing. 5. It gives you more options if you are looking to teach. 6. You can produce an exhibition that is interesting to a wide variety of people. 7. Crucially, one skill can inspire another. I don't think that drawing weakens my painting. I think it strengthens it. I think printmaking helps me to paint. Last night I was picturing a biro drawing that I had used to make a drypoint print from mountboard, and was planning to use the same idea in doing a copper wire sculpture and brass inlay work in stone... It's not just me. If you go to the great, you have Michaelangelo, sculpting in stone, painting ceilings, doing a bit of architecture, and writing some pretty good poetry. You have Leonardo drawing, painting, working on various sciences, and designing machinery. There's Rembrandt excelling not only at oil painting, but ink drawings and etching. Degas painted, pastelled, made figure sculptures and was a wildly experimental printmaker. Victor Hugo could write a bit, and also did some astonishing drawings. Gainsborough not only took on both portraiture and landscape, but played the violin. The inventor, George Stephenson worked on engines, but mended pocket watches and shoes, designed mining lamps, and tried his hand at many things that came his way. The forerunner, though, is what must be one of the world's earliest descriptions of an artist- a guy in the book of Exodus, contemporary with Moses, called Bezalel, described by God like this: "I have filled him with divine spirit, making him skilful and ingenious, expert in every craft, and a master of design, whether in gold, silver, copper, or cutting stones to be set, or carving wood, for workmanship of every kind." Later on, we find him and his assistant, Aholiab, instructing and working with engravers, weavers, embroiderers, etc. I won't say that everyone ought to take on many different techniques, but I'd say that if you feel interested and inspired to do that, not to be put off. Try a new thing. You might enjoy it, and you might return to what you are used to with new eyes and renewed energy. :) Tom, July 2022 There are more things to get ready for a solo exhibition than you might think. I thought I'd do a simplified list. I don't know if anyone will be remotely interested, but, looking at it, it's eye-opening to see how many things there are to juggle and get into place- and this is the simplified list- each task can be split down into many more parts...
Look at venues in the light of the work you do- Research them- Choose one- Choose a timescale for preparing that you can manage- Apply to exhibit there and negotiate- Give them any information/ writing/ images that they want- Fill in forms and tell them about your art insurance- Find help to transport and hang the pictures- Choose your pictures- make sure that you have enough, etc- Choose how you want to present them- Match them with frames- my work is so varied that it makes sense to have a variety of styles of frame, as one generic type does not suit them all. Some look good with everything, but others need something bespoke- Buy Wooden mouldings to make into frames and mountboard, glass, etc- Buy all the bits and bobs needed for framing them up, from tape to screws, and tools if you don't have them, too- Measure the wood to match the pictures and cut it- I trim down with a mitre guillotine- Construct your frames- glue, underpin, drill and nail, nail punch and fill, paint and finish, etc... this can take several days, as the glue and paint need to dry- Cut backing board- Cut glass- Cut mountboard- Measure the size you want to cut the mount so it fits perfectly around the picture- then cut it out- Mount it- if using wetted tape, then let it dry- Don't forget to photograph and sign the picture!- Clean the glass and sandwich the mounted work between glass and backing board- Frame it up, firing in tabs or staples, then finishing it off with tape- Put on the fixings- in this case, I need to use mirror plates, but other galleries require cord or wire: even something simple like this involves measuring and marking, choosing the right size plates and screws, drilling, and then fitting the screws, and taping over them so that they are less likely to damage anything else. Decide on prices...- Do any labels- Prepare any special display stands- Make sure you have all the details on a list- typically including the title, materials,and price, maybe the dimensions, too- Make sure it's all clean and tidy and pack it away, ready to take- Then you have to make sure you have any signs you'll need ready- Make posters and have them printed and laminated, etc- Get any cards printed and ready- Make sure you're familiar with the gallery and the procedure for hanging the show and running it- Get an idea of where you think you'll want most of the pictures- some people have it all planned down to the tiniest mm, but I often find that things can look different en-situ, and the lighting or perhaps the colour on a wall or piece of furniture can change what will look right where. I also find that hanging the show by eye tends to work pretty well. The thing about using the floor or ceiling or a wall line as a reference is that, unless the building is spanking new, these lines may well not be perfectly vertical, etc, and following them alone can leave you with things looking stranger than if done by eye- Do any pieces of writing you might want to use- short, snappy bits, long pieces, something about the techniques you use, an artist's statement or your biography, etc- Plan what you will do about payments- Contact people you would like to see your show- Publicise it over time... - Plan how you will travel there and what you will do there, and if you have kids, what the arrangements with them will be- I like to use my time in the gallery well. Better to plan good things to do and be interrupted by visitors and people who are interested in your work than to plan nothing and not know what to do in quiet moments. I tend to take some wood and plan woodcuts. I'll take something to read, and I might try to do some study and learn something or other. I'll also look at my artwork and see what I think of it now that it's on the wall. The Gallery Upstairs like you to keep a record of visitor numbers, but that's a good thing to do, anyway, as it tells you at least whether people visit the place, which is a starting point. Whether they breeze through or take one horrified glance and hurry out again, or whether they stop to talk and find out more, is another question, but if nobody at all visits a place, then it's hard to see how it will be worthwhile, unless you just want the excuse to nap all day... There's lots more to say, but I think I need to get on with some of the things on that list...
Grey Skies, White Flowers:
Hello everyone, I'm sorry not to have updated this for some time. It's just been a challenging time. I hope we'll have a bit more light and some fresher air, and, personally, I'd like to feel able to go out and paint. I've missed it. I've missed sunshine, too. Too many dark and dismal days. Single parenting has been much harder with the rule that lets you out to exercise just once a day, plus the weather and the lack of novelty. At this minute, the sky is grey- again- but the plum tree outside my window is putting forth its beautiful white flowers and you get the impression that nothing would stop it. Give it an Ice-Age and it will still bud and flower- slowly, of course, but determinedly. A reminder to keep going and not give up. Take care :) Tom 24th Feb 2021 I haven't worked on copper or done any kind of drypoint on metal (etching but done by scratching into the surface with a tool, rather than with acid) since I was at Falmouth College of Arts in 1999. I haven't yet got a press, so I have no plans to print from these, although they would work out quite well. The aim here is for the copper sheet to be the final artwork. I find printing plates can be so beautiful, and I love the warm glow of copper. So, I bought myself some 1.2mm thick sheets of it via Jacksons Art, and am working on producing a series of small pictures- hybrid drypoints that I don't intend to print, with painting. And it's a lot of fun! These are some tiny, early plein air attempts- taking the copper with me to Turner's Field in Parkstone, or down to the local beach and scratching into the metal there- then some work on it at home. I'm also practising my painting directly onto it. There's a lot to learn, and this includes photographing and lighting it! 3D work and DIY holograms are part of the plan :) Check out my instagram: tommarshallart to see more regular updates. Tom: Nov 2020 Sorry for the long wait for updates to here and Facebook. A long story... but they should be coming soon.
Initially, I was trying to get together a good set of finished work- as you (hopefully) get better, the bar you set gets higher. Then, my computer began to die and I didn't want to take and save pictures that might end up lost. Then it completely stopped and a friend took it away to give it a new hard drive and keyboard. The old computer I had had before had also stopped, so I couldn't use that, either. After all that, I wanted to accompany any new posts with pictures, but my son, borrowing the camera for his A level photography, discovered that the lens is both scratched and full of mildew, so we've had to get a new lens until we can get the old one seen to, if it's fixable at all... ...and then we had the 5th-wettest, rainiest October on record, and day after day there wasn't a decent-enough amount of light to take photos by. Now it's sunny again, but my son has the camera all day at school, so I'm hoping to take photos this weekend and catch up with it all! Meanwhile, I have been able to load works onto Instagram, so that's the place to go to see my work from the last few months! I hope to put some new ones on here next week :) I thought I'd briefly update you. The boys are back at school- who knows for how long? For the first time in more than 6 months I have some time to myself. It was certainly challenging, but overall, a blessing. It was very good to spend time with, especially, my youngest son- once lockdown ended, my eldest was cycling off here and there, but my youngest's presence, coupled with my bike being out of action, and the general desire not to go to crowded and indoor places or travel, very much shaped the summer. We walked most days down to the beach and I drew and painted and he read, and we both swam. We went early or late, to avoid the crowds, and chose quiet areas. It meant that my long list of places I'd planned to cycle to to paint didn't happen, and it was just the local beaches. But it didn't get boring. Many months of not getting out for a drawing trip at all meant that it had the feeling of when I first started out after years of working indoors. To be on the beach and in the sea was like a taste of Heaven. It's good to appreciate what you have. Two more things have shaped the time: One is that I've started using Instagram. I am there under tommarshallart and this has been like opening a window. I have seen very little contemporary art over the years. I don't get up to see big exhibitions. Apart from local artists and friends, some of whom are very good indeed, I didn't really know any well-known living ones- Vetriano, Homewood, Hockney and I can't think of anyone else- and then a few more from last year's Pintar Rapido. Suddenly, with Instagram, I'm seeing work by artists from all over the world, getting feedback from people thousands of miles away, or even from here in the UK, and it's very exciting. It's humbling, too. It's made me look at my work differently, and it's spurred me on to go further. I think my new work will reflect that, and it's quite exciting :) The other thing is that anyone looking at my facebook page will have noticed an explosion of colour. I've talked about it there, a bit, but basically, I've had dreams of colourschemes and made work from them. I love that. Here are a couple of pictures responding to colours from "dreams". I have many more to use- even two new ones last night, out of the blue, (and yellow). I have to look to God for inspiration. Life is too short to waste and without him, it's more than I can do. These flashes of colour are fun. I came to a bit of a standstill, as I needed to order some new inks and things, and have been working on drypoints, but the inks are here, and I'm looking forward to getting out and painting more! I have a number of loose ends to tidy up this week, but hope that from next week, I'll get out painting most days, or work on printing at home, if the weather's terrible. My thoughts are with those who are struggling, suffering, grieving, scared and lonely at the moment. Please take care and look after yourself. Tom This is your chance to make some great work, I hear. Look at what Shakespeare did, look at Isaac Newton, stuck at home during plagues, or so I read in passing; producing works of genius. Well, I can definitely say that in the last couple of months, I have made nothing of note whatsover... I also hear about the great amount of time people have to do this and that. I seem to have none...
For me, I think it is the finely-tilted balance of single-parenting and work- always a wobbly task that errs on the side of tipping- and dealing with the bubbling soup of emotions that I seem to be treading water in, plus a huge amount of pressure, part of which is the expectation to be one of the ones making the difference. From time to time, I manage to haul myself up onto a slice of floating potato, for a few moments, before once more splashing aimlessly amongst the celery and froth :) (Continuing the theme os swimming in soup, in case that seems a bit overly random). I'm an artist- I can be making encouraging pieces of art and talking about them, etc. I can make a difference! I want to. I'm a storyteller and a writer- I can do uplifting things, I can get out my guitar and sing a song or something like some of my friends have been, do a little chat into my webcam, maybe tell a story. I had great plans for new work, huge hopes of making a series of videos. Maybe I will get to that point, but so far, none of it has happened and it is simply a case of trying to survive and not go under, and I've certainly felt myself sinking on a regular basis. Let me tell you what I'm hoping to do over the next few months: to become better at oil painting and I've made some beginnings in that. I've never been taught to do this, and don't do it conventionally, tackling it more as a printmaker. That's good, but it means working outdoors, and I find it really hard to cope with the proximity of neighbours all around, out in their gardens- most are great, but not all look-on with benevolent eyes. That puts me of. It shouldn't, but it does. My other plans include relief carving with drawing and painting in wood, batik, scraperboard and marquetry, all of which I have tasted in the distant past and would be nice skills to develop. I also want to continue with my woodcuts and general printmaking. All that's good, and I hope I manage to do some of it. But if I fail at that, I fail. What I don't want to fail at is to be a dad, a friend, part of my family, etc. To sit and make pictures is very difficult when there is the constant sense that your friends are struggling, you want to know how people are, and a the same time have to decide what to make for dinner and tea and encourage your kids to focus on something good. Emotionally, this is one of the most difficult times I've known. The sense of vulnerability is huge. It's so easy to feel totally overwhelmed. So, if there's anyone out there maybe working in any branch of art, and the expectations are to make works of genius, if it's any consolation, in the last couple of months I haven't made a single piece to a standard I would consider selling! But as someone said to me recently- "Be gentle with yourself." The key thing is to get through this. Don't feel the responsibility to write King Lear or do the equivalent of the Sistine Chapel. For me, to simply get through the day is currently a massive achievement. One thing's for sure: there are things I am going to appreciate like I never have done before, and that can only be a good thing. Don't give up :) Tom, 28th April 2020 A quick note just to send out thoughts and prayers to those who are struggling with this in the many different ways. I include my own family, friends, neighbours, customers and the local shopkeepers and gallery-owners I work with, and you reading this and the people around you who I have perhaps never met. I'm thinking of those who are ill, those stuck and those afraid. I'm keeping in mind those who have no idea what is happening, those who are looking after others, and those who are facing an end to all that they know. Particularly, I'm feeling for the elderly and disabled who need hugs, for single parents like myself, who face the challenge of how to deal with being ill when you have children to look after. There are those who are forgotten, or whose challenges are overlooked- those with unseen conditions like cystic fibrosis and depression, who will be affected.
I am thinking here especially about those who work in art. Many will already earn far below the minimum wage. Often you put everything into one exhibition. Many will get into debt in order to finance a show which may either not earn what was hoped, or may simply not happen at all. Surely, many of us will give up trying to earn a living from it. For some, this will be the last straw. For everyone feeling that, I feel for you. God bless you and lift your heads up. There are artists and gallery and arts centre owners and staff, and so many whose living connects with this who will be put under pressure and who may simply not know what to do or where to turn. Right now, I'm thinking of small galleries like Purbeck New Wave in Swanage, which is temporarily closed; and artists who have planned for years for shows that are shut or cancelled, like those at the Gallery Upstairs, Upton Country Park. I'm thinking of you. As for me, I have my show at the Gallery Upstairs at the end of April and into May for 12 days. Will it happen? It doesn't look hopeful, but wait and see. Meanwhile, I hope that you are able to combine being wise and careful and taking care of yourselves and those around you with not being fearful. May you be blessed and have peace, and hope and light in a dark time. Tom 17th March 2020 Sorry, that's the Whys, not the Why. More than one. I usually deal with the Hows, but if you don't make prints, you may be asking yourself why someone would want to make them. What is the reason for using any particular technique to make pictures? Why watercolour over oil painting, or pastel over pen and ink or scraperboard over silverpoint? Each has its advantages and drawbacks. Each is a different way of working. Some are faster, or cheaper or simpler or less messy, or easier, or less physically demanding, but, very simply, there is something attractive about working in a different material. Notice that Degas was a printmaker and sculptor as well as a painter. He used pastels as well as oils. Rembrandt didn't only paint in oils, he worked in etching and pen and ink. Durer did woodcut alongside painting. Millet printed, pastelled and painted. Michaelangelo did a bit of fresco painting and poetry alongside his stone carving. Turner watercoloured as well as painted in oils. Rodin etched as well as sculpted, and worked in casting as well as carving. I could add many more artists- probably the majority of the great artists- who worked in more than one media. Why do that? If you excel at something, you may like a challenge. You want to prove to yourself that you can do well at another skill. For some, that will be in something related, like a switch from Rugby Union to Rugby League. Victoria Pendleton went from cycling to horse-riding, Rio Ferdinand had a serious go at changing from football to boxing, which is even more of a leap. Victor Hugo, John Lennon and Edward Lear and people who made visual art as well as the things they are better known for. As an artist, I like the challenge of handling a different technique. I know that I can use my hands and eyes to control materials and make artworks. I like the feeling of expanding the number of techniques at my disposal. I feel that my work is richer for it, and very simply, I enjoy doing so. Printmaking is just another way of making pictures- or rather, it's lots of different ways. There are two clear good things about making prints: 1. Visual Reasons- A different Look Each technique has its own look to it. A woodcut rarely makes an image that is similar to a watercolour. It has its own feel. The more you work at the technique, the more you see what its possibilities are and what it is suited to. I would aim to do something very different with a silkscreen print and paper templates, to what I would try to do with an etching. 2. Working Reasons- Inspiration, Brain Exercise, and Refreshing I think it's healthy for an artist to work in different ways. I find it inspiring and fun. I almost never get bored or get an artistic block. I enjoy almost every part of making art. I find the variety of different ways of making prints quite fascinating. I find myself working in different ways and the very things I think of making are different when I'm working with a chisel and ink, as opposed to a pencil. Printmaking helps you keep your art fresh, and it helps you engage your mind in a different way. Certainly, the planning of your work is potentially a lot more important in printmaking than in painting in gouache or doing collage. What about the argument that if I go off and learn to print, I will have less time to devote to my oil painting, Will my oils not then suffer? Won't I fail to reach the same standard, because of taking time to do the other thing? Good questions. I think that, there is a place of overlap. A professional athlete in one sport will probably do better at another sport because they will be used to training, to exercise, to determination, to winning. They will have a head start even if the sports seem unrelated. Because with different types of art, you are still working with your hands, or whatever body parts you are able to use, and working with your eyes, then if you are changing from pyrography to encaustic wax, you will still be using many of the same things- making a line or mark with different tools and materials, but still using the same skills of motor control and perception. More than that, I think working in a new material teaches you things that you hadn't realised about your old one. I know that I approach oil painting in a different way because of my experience of monoprinting. I am prepared to work with a piece of card or a cloth instead of only a brush, and I would be as happy to make a picture by wiping paint away as by applying it. I think that that gives me more options in painting. It means that my mind sees more possibilities and is awake to doing something that otherwise I wouldn't have thought to do. There are 2 other major reasons that people make prints: A. You can do multiples. Whilst the making of a printing plate may be laborious and apparently inefficient, taking, perhaps, far longer than it would take to do multiple paintings and drawings; ultimately, many types of printmaking, including drypoint and woodcut, give you the opportunity to- once the plate is ready- make as many prints as you want to. My attitude to that is to make a small number of multiples, but to use different colours and make them increasingly their own thing. In that way, you get the best of both worlds. You have a return for your hard work, and you are still being creative. It's a great way to see how colours change moods and atmospheres, too. B. If you are a rich artist, you can have others do your printing for you... Draw your desing on wood and have other cut it out and print it, or do the etching and let someone else do the actual printing of it. It doesn't appeal to me, though. I watched a video of Claude Weisbuch in his studio. He had a number of assistants, but was still very involved in the work. If you are at a point where you are physically unable to do aspects of the printing, well, why not? Otherwise, I find the idea of contracting out your making to someone else rather strange. I like to feel I am an artist to the end of it all. I like the fact that I clean the surface of a drypoint selectively, so that the ink that remains is part of the picture. The idea that I cut the lines and someone does all the rest is wierd. That's one reason I like hand-developed photography more than where you stick it in a machine and it does all the work. With the former, you're a true artist. With the latter, it feel like you are only partly one- or at least that's how it seem to me. Certainly, this aspect of printmaking doesn't attract me at the moment. Maybe if I'm still making prints in my 90s.... Maybe if it would help others- you know, with apprentices, etc. I can't see it happening any time soon with me, though! So there are a few reasons, but really, writing about it is a bit futile. It's the making that counts. Try a new material, learn a new technique. It might be inspiring, and it might be fun :) Warning! With a new technique that will use different muscles to what you are used to, please take it easy and don't overdo it! Happy Making!
Tom 29th Feb 2020 After the Ketchup- More Experiments in Pressless Printmaking- Drypoint without a Printing Press2/11/2019
This is a bit long, so to summarise it- I wanted a method of doing drypoints presslessly using liquid drawing ink, instead of the usual printing inks. I found a method that lets me use material I would otherwise waste- I can use it with dry media or printmaking inks too, and that lets me work on a large scale. I can also use resists in a way that creates the look of certain etching effects. If you want to read more, please do read on :) WHY? In September I was framing work for an unexpected solo exhibition. I wanted some large prints and needed to make some at short notice- no time to do a woodcut, no time to wait for printing ink to dry, no patience to do a wood drypoint... I also wanted a small print: again with limited time to make it, ready to accompany my pictures for Draw 19 in London. Neither of my selected pics were printmaking, and I wanted to show that side of my work. This was going into an auction and would be unframed in a cellophane wrap. That ruled out printing in dry media, the obvious choice at short notice. I am happy for my artworks to be scribbly, but like my mounts to be neat. I use expensive conservation mountboard and it gets wrecked so easily: a fleck of pastel, the demise of some unfortunate passing moth, a dent where I've leant the cutting rule too hard on the board, a child walks past with a bottle of ketchup- sometimes you feel you can't win. I've always thought that I'll find a use for these minisculely-damaged bits of board. Years ago, Karen at Artcetera in Boscombe, who framed up 2 of my pictures when I was first starting out, suggested I could try cutting into mountboard and printing from it. I couldn't quite picture what she meant, and I imagined slicing into the board with a scalpel and it just didn't feel me, but perhaps that stayed at the back of my mind. "I wonder", I thought, "whether I can do drypoint into the mountboard, use drawing ink instead of printing ink or dry media, and manage to get a good print- doing all this without a press...Hmm???" What is Drypoint? Drypoint is sister to etching. Etching uses chemicals- acid, etc, to bite lines or dots into a printing plate. Drypoint means doing that dry = by hand- well, with a tool and a bit of effort- take a tent peg, nail, knife blade or bodkin- or even a professional tool- I may buy myself one someday- and you scratch with that into your printing surface. Copper, zinc and perspex are all normal. I've found old photos work beautifull- you can find an earlier blog I did on "photdrypoints" :). To print an intaglio printing plate, you get the ink into the depressions you've made, clean the surface, put the paper on top. If you have a press, you damp the paper and the pressure forces it into the cracks, picking the ink up. With no press, you rub the back of the paper like crazy to transfer the ink onto the paper. I did a demo of pressless printmaking at Milford Arts Club on Jan 2nd, and there was surprise at printing intaglio prints without a press. Relief printing, like woodcut and linocut, where the ink is on the raised surface, is certainly much easier to do without a press than intaglio, where the ink is in the grooves on the plate, but it is still possible- it just takes more effort! My reasons not to use photos for this were that- 1. I have very few left to use, 2. None of them are large, 3. I didn't feel they work well with liquid ink, but for dry media and printing ink on a small scale, they are great. I needed a break from the framing, anyway and started out immediately. I found something to scratch with, worked into the mountboard with that, then used drawing ink and met with instant success.. followed by immediate failure. More triumph, alternating with disaster- that's a much higher perecentage of winning than I usually get with printmaking adventures! Here's what happened and what I learnt: What Happened |