My favorite project of all

Oh, little blog-- where did the weeks go?
Strap yourself in, I have lots of ground to make up for!

I have long maintained a love/hate relationship with living in a four-season climate—meaning I hate it in the winter, am over the moon for the first days of spring, take full advantage of the summer, and mourn with the changing trees in fall.

This time around winter has been crazy busy-- normally this season drags by in the snowy north, filled with cold mornings scraping the car windows, white knuckle drives to work, and daily musings about why on earth I live here. I'm happy to say that this time around, winter was a complete blur. I hardly noticed the snow, and barely had time to miss the sun until I realized last week that it was suddenly beginning to make appearances!

My busy winter has everything with do with my work—I haven’t been printing until very recently, but have had a plethora of other lovely projects come my way. As many of you know, I have started working with Blue House Ann Arbor-- a sublime handmade studio created by an amazing woman named Siobhan Lyle. Blue House's mission is to be a sort of one stop shop for local artists and crafters. Siobhan re-imagined a graceful old home on Main Street, turning it into a place to create, gather, shop and learn. I have been fortunate enough to have a part in almost all of those ends-- I have been doing some signs for the studio, am selling my work in the shop and at its inaugural event: Handmade at Blue House, and, best of all-- I get to teach.

At the risk of sounding a little hippie dippie, I will say the act the printmaking-- the many, many steps that lead from start to finish, keep me sane. There's been a lot of attention paid lately to flow -- the art of being so fully immersed in one's work that focus, joy and concentration is at an all time high. It’s almost like meditation in a way, but with the focus on your work instead of yourself. I find this flow in printing constantly-- it’s a way of making that is simply set up, through the act of being process driven, physical, repetitive, and problem solving in nature, for this level of absorption to take place.

There are lots of reasons why I fell in love with printmaking and enjoy teaching it. Flow is central. Printing is also unique in that its history is just as much trade and craft as it is fine art. It operates within a set of rules, uses a wide and enticing variety of tools and materials, and follows a sequence. As someone who has always struggled to say “this piece of art is done” I love printing because it decides for me. You make decisions early in the process and live with them at the end—that resonates much more clearly with my personality. In fact, I have kind of brought that process over to anything I make. If I make a sign I draw out four or five plans first, making all of the choices—color, font, text size, before I start. By making all of my choices right away, I reconcile my imagination with my somewhat Type A personality.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you find yourself in a creative slump, or think you’re not that creative to start, give printmaking a try. If you’re in the area, consider giving it a try with me. :)

How to create a fully functioning print studio in a 1200 square foot apartment you also live in

reimagine your rooms.

(hint: you'll need twine and clothespins)

a sneak peek!

I'm getting ready for DUCF this weekend! I continue to be amazed tonight at how, nine years later, I'm still so in love with making prints.

Thanks for supporting my work and allowing me to keep on keepin' on.

The Pendulum Swings!

I sometimes wonder if I have what it takes to make work full-time, because the process of creating is a bit tricky for me. I need everything to feel right-- I can't come home and dive in if I've had a bad day, or I'm thinking about my bills. My surroundings need to be organized and peaceful. And then, once everything is in place for the show, I have to pull back the curtain and not recite, but invent my lines.

And then I have to trust whatever story those lines tell-- sometimes they are pulled more toward one type of subject matter, or medium, or color palette. Sometimes I don't feel like I have a whole lot to do with what direction I'm headed in-- there's an intuition at work that just takes me there.

Such is the case with the recent prints. I've spent months working almost exclusively on screen prints, only reverting back to woodcuts when I need to pull a handful off the same plates I've been using since last winter. I've reopened and touched up a few new pieces, but haven't made anything new in awhile. Ok, that's not true, I did cut up a plate a few months ago and I hated it. I had been thinking about it for forever, and it seemed just fine when I carved it, and then I pulled the print and I hated it. That doesn't happen very often these days. So I told myself to put it 'behind the couch' as an art teacher once told me and come back to it later. Later turned into the better part of two seasons.

And then, like a spark, it comes back. Its hard to explain how this happens when you work in two mediums exclusively. I did come close to an explanation by way of a blog post by amazingly reflective an articulate fellow Etsy seller Allison Sattinger of Sunny Rising. If you compared art to real-world jobs (ha!) the two types of prints I make would be like working in related jobs in the same field-- say chemistry and physics. Allison's working life, in silversmithing and leather tooling, is more like bouncing between ballet and construction.

Here's an excerpt from her blog that sums up this duality in ways of making perfectly:

I cannot breathe in enough of the scent of leather

nor can I seem to tool enough....

The pendulum which had swung to silver for so many weeks has swung to leather

one field lays fallow while another is seeded and harvested -

that's the way to keep the earth full of nutrients

and the mind blossoming with ideas and activity.

I can relate entirely. So, my pendulum appears to be swinging back toward woodcut prints, which is too bad because I just bought a $40 gallon jug of screen print ink. Today I made a woodcut from start to finish, and I thought I'd give you a little 'making tour'

So first I draw the image on the plate. The plate is the same size as the paper the print will go on, so I decide on a border size first. Then I draw the image in pencil, and again in black sharpie. The black sharpie is great for this because you get lines with about the same weight as your finished product, not too fine in the detail department. Then I cut away all of my line work with a Dremel tool with small sanding attachment. This is where I depart from most relief printers, who use hand tools. The Dremel cuts approximately 99% of the time away from this process-- with the added bonus of not swearing under my breath or cutting my hands. The vibrating does require occasional breaks because your hand will go numb.



All carved away-- the Dremel cuts curves with ease, this would be nearly impossible with hand tools.


Next I make a frame from paper and tape with a hinge on one side. After I ink up the plate I can swing this frame over the print to prevent ink around the edges from touching the paper.




Then I squeeze some ink out of the tube, loosen it up with a palette knife, roll it out with a brayer, and ink up the plate. At this point I can see where I'm going to want to go back in with the Dremel later and touch up some leaves.



Then I put a piece of paper on top, push the ink into the paper with a wooden spoon and voila! Finished product. This is called Bracken Fern :)




Here's a close-up of the wet ink. I use oil-based inks because I think the texture is so must finer and smoother after the drying process is complete. This print will take around 2 days to dry completely, at which time the ink will feel and look almost like suede.

I've been feeling the need to switch my subject matter from one process to the other-- so in addition to seeing woodcut prints with ferns, leaves, stones and other subjects from my screen prints, I am starting to envision screen prints with the nests and rock formations and roots. Hopefully new inspiration with intervene at some point as well.

If you're looking for a more in-depth explanation of how woodcut prints work, I recently posted a PowerPoint tutorial to my web site that you can download or view online. Maybe your pendulum will swing toward woodcut prints too!

Process Post: Time to go Shopping!

I have the next three days off and will be holing myself up in the apartment making screen prints. The snow is back in SE Michigan (boo) which will make a pajamas and coffee lifestyle much more appealing during my off days.

I have enough materials to get started, but will be ordering again from Dick Blick this weekend to take advantage of the 5.95 shipping deal they haphazardly host every so often. So it seems appropriate to discuss the next stage after ideas: materials acquisition. But! In order to talk about the materials needed to make screen prints, its important to shed some light on exactly what screen printing is, so that's what I'll try to do below and talk about materials in one big convoluted post with lots of non-sequiturs. Ready?

The basic premise of screen printing is stenciling. Remember in the 80's and 90's when stenciling was all the rage and people bought those plastic stencils and tappy brushes and stenciled country kitchen borders everywhere?

(I'm having mauve flashbacks!)

Here's an example of a pretty awesome and refreshing stenciling job in case you're interested in seeing this process work in a more modern way:

(mm... tone on tone goodness. Unfortunately, I've had this photo saved on my computer for eons and have no idea where it came from-- maybe Design Sponge?)

Martha is leading the charge in bringing stenciling back to home decor in a hip way (another story for another day) but I use this example to illustrate the idea that screen printing is really just making a rather complicated stencil-- the methods involved are much more precise though. Instead of the spotty tapped-on look, screen printing results in a smooth, graphic application of ink and can be printed many times with consistent results.

Side note: Here's a Crafter post on freezer paper stencils if you'd like to get your hands on this method without a lot of start up costs.

Obviously, I could talk about stenciling on walls all day, but I'm a renter and doing so makes me sad, so I'll leave it at that!

The most obvious tool you need to stencil is some kind of plate or buffer where paint can be pushed through the exposed areas to create the image. In screen printing this tool is the actual screen frame-- a wood frame with thin mesh stretched tight across the back. Some people make these, some people buy them. I've done both, and am ambivalent about which is better. My DIY spirit says 'make it!' but the cost differential isn't huge. You can get a decent sized screen for under $20.

(from dick blick)

The mesh stretched across creates a sort of blank canvas of tiny open pixels. If you've ever examined a screen door or window closely you notice that there are tiny little negative spaces created between the criss-crossing strands of wire. In the screen frame mesh these spaces are very small, so when ink is pushed through some and not others the results are very precise.

If you printed off the screen right out of the box, you'd get a flat even coat of ink across your surface because all of those spaces in the mesh are open. You create an image by controlling those open spaces. You control the open spaces by blocking parts of the screen so that the ink can't get through.

There are many methods for blocking the mesh in the spaces you don't want printed, and they range from very simple with little investment to very complex with lots of light bulbs and chemicals and fancy machines that burn your image into a screen coating.

I use a very simple method because I don't have the setup for the the other stuff, and I don't like using all of the harsh chemicals to clean the screen afterward. I also like the method I use because it forces me to create simple images. I have a tendency to push an image 'too far'-- the reason why I was, in my own opinion, never that great a painter. If I have direct control over the image I don't know when to leave well enough alone!

Rather than burning an image I've drawn onto a screen, or using drawing fluid to apply it directly to the screen, I use a method where I cut my image out of a film that is applied to the screen. Cutting forces me to think in simple terms. Its a restriction that helps me.

Which leads me to the next supply item: clear Contact paper. I capitalize the Contact because Contact brand works the best. As tempting as it may be to pick up a roll on your next trip to Target (they carry some other knock-off brand) don't do it! You can find it in the housewares section of most department or hardware stores and it looks like this:

(look for the brand Contact! I swear they're not paying me!)

You cut your image out, stick the paper onto the back of your screen and viola! The mesh is open in your image. This will make more sense when I post about the actual process.

You'll need something to print on. I use canvas for the most part because its sturdy, looks great and stretches nicely. You can find canvas on the bolt (also known as duck cloth) at any fabric store for around $8 a yard. I'm not a big JoAnn's fan but I always buy a bunch there when they mail me a 50% off coupon. Do not buy it in the fine arts section at an art supplies store: they charge way more for virtually the same thing.

You can screen print on anything you can get your screen under. Tote bags, t-shirts, furniture, wood, paper-- the possibilities are endless. The ink will do different things depending on what you're printing on. Canvas is great because the ink actually seeps into the thick fabric-- if you print on paper it just sits on top of the surface.




Here's a chunk of my banner-- you can see how the ink reacts to the canvas and pools a little in the valleys created by the weave. I feel like this method provides an extra layer of texture and softness that isn't there when you print on paper.

So next you'll need ink. I have a fun and inexpensive shortcut here, too. You can buy little jars for ink for $5-10 a pop, but I feel like the color is too strong and abrasive. I buy what's called an extender base (a clear fluid with a snot-like consistency) and then tint it with acrylic paint. You can pick up a big ol quart of Speedball Extender Base for around $12.


So you'll need paint too if you go this route. Here's quite possibly the only instance I've ever encountered where craft paint works better. Its more fluid and mixes into the extender with greater ease.

You'll also need:

- a squeegee (like the window washing kind-- Target has an awesome one with a clear handle and black rubber)
- spatulas
- little plastic containers (save your yogurt cups!)



Next time I'll cover the first part of the printing process!

Process Post: Idea Time!

Writing out my process for pulling ideas together has been difficult, but really helpful. This stage is definitely the most organized I'll ever be in working through a group of prints.

So I feel like I've got a decent handle on what comes next. Perhaps the most important lesson I took from printing in my undergrad was not to try to say too much with my work. Coincidentally, I didn't learn this message until after I finished the degree. You should see my final pieces about women authors, yikes! I actually sewed a real spoon onto a canvas and modge podged rocks into the pocket of a handmade apron for a piece about Virginia Woolfe. It was bad.

These days, I try not to fill work with grand, sweeping meanings but with simple truths. Sometimes I try to think of it like a poem, where writing a beautiful line about the unnoticed detail carries more weight than the tired cliche. Anyway, I might need to pull in the reigns a bit more on this group-- there's certainly a lot going on in it.

Oh, I also want to say this about the idea stage: I am a firm proponent of idea freedom! Many artists try to bottle up their ideas into tight little copyright bottles as if they were handed to them by God himself. The idea that artists have these original visual epiphanies is a myth. Everything builds on what's come before. With that in mind, I think pulling from others is not only ok, but kind of necessary. There is, however, a big difference between a copy and an original-- it should be taken and then made your own-- made better or different or put together with something new and interesting.

I'm going to put these in steps for the sake of saving a little type:

1) I thought about the work I had made before. In previous work I focused completely on simple natural images-- some stylized to meet a graphic aesthetic, others more subtle and organic. I've decided to keep going in that direction, but to pull toward the more subtle from now on.

2) Find new meanings. So once I figure out the general direction, I try to find a few new ways to approach the images I will be pulling together. Its like a game-- once you know what the category is going to be, it becomes a lot easier to find items that fit within it.

My first focus is in going from macro to micro. I'm going to pull out far enough to depict a topographic map of Yellowstone Nat'l Park and then zoom in, one print after another, until I'm at the cellular level. This difference won't be a super big deal-- I won't sell them all as a set that can line up from one to the other or anything, but I'd like see what happens when I pull in slowly, and its help me explore some images that I would otherwise leave be.

The other way I'm going to broaden my scope is to commit a few works to exploring how humans and nature interact. How we study it, consume it, collect it, etc. Again, not to display together, but because its helped me better find images.

3) Impose limits.
These have the potential to be all over the place visually because of the ways I'm building on what I've done before, so in order to keep them under the same umbrella I'm committing to a few aesthetic choices:

1) Softer colors-- lots of white ink
2) Using more screens in each piece for a less graphic, more gradual effect
3) Organic, not harsh line work
4) Using natural, unbleached canvas.

4) Play Pictionary with yourself.
Next I start making lists. I filled a few pages in my sketchbook with random words: agate, brush, prarie, driftwood, stone wall, etc. Anything that fell into the range of my broad categories above. I went back and starred the ones that seemed interesting and circled any I had a personal connection with or was really excited about.

Then I turned those into some rapid thumbnail sketches, and decided that I liked where they were going or didn't. Some I scrap, some I think about and come back to, some I love and keep. I also think about prints I've made in the past, and if revisiting any of those ideas will fit in nicely with the sketches that are coming up.

So here's that list organized by each print type and size, going from micro to macro. I try to assign another word at this point to better describe them.

8x8" screen prints: leaf zoom, honeycomb, overlapping iris, circling fern, vintage wheat, driftwood collection, log pile, water table, rural british landscape.

4x16" screen print diptych: river stones(micro) and a rooted redwood tree (macro)
These will sell separate or together for a deal-- I'm really excited about this one!

Woodcuts: plant cells, stones, fleming creek, braided root, nest, Yellowstone map.

5) Render images several times.
Then I sketch it out a little more-- usually I add color to make sure they're all kind of working together. The color is in no way accurate, but gives me more information than pencil alone. I make small sketches because I think drawing is kind of boring and I like seeing everything on a page together.

So I make tiny ones that don't take long-- these are in a little 5x8" book.



On the left are some of the square screenprint ideas-- on the right is the diptych. They're kind of doodley at this point-- the printing process is great because I lose a lot of control over what they look like-- the end results won't be nearly as bubbly. They'll look nothing like this at the end, but its a start!

I'm going to start with screen prints this time because I feel like those came together a little more naturally than the woodcut prints during this process. Working back and forth allows me to put some ideas 'behind the couch' as an art teacher once said to me. She was a big fan of things working out in their time-- without being forced. So am I.