The Lonely Robot

Yosemite Valley Linocut Print

I have been working on carving the relief for this print for the last couple of weeks.  Fits and starts at first, but this last week I have really gotten into the challenge of it.  Yesterday I spent the better part of 8 hours adding to the 10 hours previously committed.  Today, I carved in the sky and pulled my first proofs.  This is my most ambitious work to date, and the challenge has been rewarded with what I think is beautiful piece.  I want to tell you the story of it.

 

It started with my love for Yosemite National Park, and this August, I took my mother there so she could see it for the first time.  I had a borrowed a good friend's camera, with a wide angle lens, and was able to capture this shot of Yosemite Valley one morning.  I knew the second I saw it captured on the display that this was going to turn into something.  I started preparing it for a relief print this November, after seeing a selection of linocut prints by Rik Olson, an incredible printmaker up in Sebastapol, CA.  His style is so refined, so beautiful.  I found it inspiring.

 

My first step to create a relief print is to convert the image to greyscale in Photoshop, then flop it horizontally. This gives me an idea of what I have to carve on the plate.  Then I crop my photo to size, then print it in sections, if necessary.  I have been doing a lot of relief prints that measure 10" x 20" lately, so I prepared this one for that size, too.

 

The next step is to make what I call a cartoon.  For the cartoon, I trace the objects in my photo that I want to be included in my relief print.  Once I have the contours, I can work out the beginnings of the lights and darks using a Sharpie.  And once this step is completed, I take a piece of artist-grade linoleum and cover it with Saral transfer paper.  I then place the cartoon on the transfer paper, then retrace my cartoon. This process transfers my design onto the linoleum, which I can then begin to carve.

 

The first few cuts are the most tentative.  As the carving continues, I notice I get much more confident.  I teach classes on how to do this, and I always tell my students to 1) Trust the process and 2) Resist Perfection.  I also pepper this with saying that it is difficult to spend so much time on something and not have a decent result.  So I tell myself the same thing.

Yep, I spent about 20 hours carving this one out.  About half of a typical work week.  This is what I do for a living now, after all.

 

It is absolute magic when ink is applied for the first time.  All the effort is made manifest, and it is super exciting.  I always use Daniel Smith Ink, Traditional Black Relief #79 to be precise.   Here is a detail of the first inking:
 

Next, I lay the inked plate on my Conrad Machine etching press.  I could not be a printmaker without this incredible tool, which I have been using some version of since I pulled my first print when I was 18. For relief prints, the uniform blacks that are achieved with a press like this are just amazing. Conrad Machines are manufactured just down the road from where I grew up in Whitehall, Michigan.  Last time I was back in my hometown, I was able to stop in for a visit.  I blogged about it here.

 

Yep, I am really happy with the result.  Here is the print again, followed by a detail:

 

Yosemite Valley is available for sale on the 3 Fish Studios website for $60.00.  If you like it, I hope you will consider adding it to your collection.  And 10% of each sale will be donated to the Yosemite Fund, to help ensure such inspiring natural beauty is preserved for generations.
  
 
 

 

New York, New York

I finished this painting today.  I am pleased with the results.  It is 48"x24", and is painted with acrylics on canvas.

A New Kind of Printmaking?

I have been experimenting a lot with Chine-collé,  which Wiki says (quite eloquently) is a special printmaking technique in which the image is transferred to a surface that is bonded to a heavier support in the printing process. One purpose is to allow the printmaker to print on a much more delicate surface, such as Japanese paper or linen, which pulls finer details off the plate. Another purpose is to provide a background color behind the image that is different from the surrounding backing sheet.

The final image will depend on the design and ink color of the printed image, the color and opacity of the paper to which the image is directly printed (plus any inclusions such as petals or fibers in that paper), and the color of the backing sheet.

To bond the paper, I have tried glue sticks and book-binding glue.  Both are less than ideal.  The glue stick does not cover evenly, and fails to stick to the paper. And book-binding glue, while sticky, either dries too quickly or curls the paper, making it almost impossible to assemble the glued papers on the plate to make the print.

Enter the Xyron.  I saw this thing for the first time at Paper Source, and was intrigued.  It was on a trip over to Berkeley to visit the good folks at Twig & Fig where the idea to use it to put an even layer of adhesive on the back of my papers was cemented, seeing how they used it for some of their incredibly beautiful custom letterpress work.  I ordered one online a few days later.

The Xyron works without electicity or batteries - it is remarkably easy to use.  You simply insert your paper substrate, crank a handle, and the Xyron puts a layer of sticky stuff on the back.  You peel it off the paper, and boom, you are ready to place it on anything.  Handy as a pocket in a shirt.

I am fond of using oragami papers.  I am lucky enough to have a Daiso market nearby, so I can get a pack of 100 sheets for $1.50.  Cheap!  I love the variety of colors.  The problem before with the glue stick and book-binding gunk is that it rolled the think, delicate oragami papers like a cheap cigarrette.  The Xyron - no problemo.  Just insert and stick.  Too cool.  Here is shot of my friend Tina, who has been helping me out with printmaking projects at the studio these last few weeks.  She is making a long line of Xyron sticky-backed oragami papers for our projects today.

Once the papers were coated, I cut them into various shapes, and easily adhered them to a sheet of Rives BFK in different, colorful patterns.  It was great fun and very satisfying to make these designs - it reminded me of Henri Matisse and his famous paper cutouts.  What if he had a Xyron? 

 

Here are some examples of the background images we made:

 

 

 

Once we had six of them ready, it was time to print on them.  I inked up two of my favorite plates, 16 Towers and Sonoma Oaks.

Here is the base:

 

And here is the base with the plate printed on it:

 

Cool, right?  I thought so - what a blast.  Here are some more before and afters:

 

I could not be more pleased.  Tina and I both knew we were onto something, which encouraged us to keep printing until my shoulder gave out.  I took a handful of Advil (Vitamin I) and printed just one more:

 

I will have these for sale in the next day or so on the 3 Fish Studios website.  And I will keep making more.  I encourage you to give this a try if you are a printmaker.  Or hell, come on by the studio and try for yourself!

Why I Will Always Wear A Helmet

This past Tuesday, I was enjoying a bike ride to the studio with Annie.  It is a great ride - we leave our house near Ocean Beach, enter Golden Gate park at the end of our block, then ride up through the park in the morning sun, then hit the Panhandle, then The Wiggle, then I either hit 14th Street to get down to Potrero Hill through the Mission, or head downtown via Market Street to the Embarcadero for the scenic route past the Bay Bridge and the ball park.  It is about 8 miles door to door, and it takes about 50 minutes.  

Tuesday I took the scenic route.  Annie turned off at Kearny to get to Wells Fargo, and as I continued down Market Street, I vividly remember planning a stop at the Ferry Building to get some fresh bread and cheeses for an afternoon studio snack.  The next thing I remember is sitting on the side of the street looking into the eyes of a couple very concerned strangers, and feeling like something just happened.

And something did happen. According to witnesses, my bike tire got stuck in the MUNI track.  For those who are not from San Francisco, the MUNI is the municipal railway that runs down Market Street and other streets of the city.  And if your bike tire goes into the slot, it either stops turning the wheel, or restricts turning, or something.  At any rate, I fell off my bike, and hit the pavement hard enough to lose consciousness for what I am told was 30 seconds or so.

From what I do remember, I was talking to two people, a man and woman, while sitting down at the side of the street.  I can not remember what we were talking about.  I do remember seeing my thumb,which was bloody and torn.  And then, out of nowhere, I see Annies familiar face, and I could not believe she was there.  Then I was on a stretcher.  Then I was in an ambulance.  Then I was in a hospital.  Some poking, prodding, xrays, neckbraces, CT scans, morphine, more morphine - Tuesday fucking sucked.  I was discharged around 4 in the afternoon, nothing broken, and Annie and I took a ride home in a Luxor cab and I ate strawberry ice cream, some chicken, and had a pint of Guinness on the chair in our living room.

On Wednesday morning, Annie helped me piece together the gaps in my memory.  Apparently, I called her after I had the accident.  Twice.  I told her where I was, which explains why she showed up.  It was wild to hear Annie tell me of entire experiences and conversations that I have no memory of whatsoever.

Also on Tuesday, I took a good look at this:

 

Yep, that is the outside of my helmet.  But it gets more interesting:

 

You know, I look at these pictures, and if I was not wearing this helmet, those cracks would be on my head.  My skull.  And I am not trying to be overly dramatic, but I think I would have been totally fucked up if I was not wearing it on Tuesday.  Even out for the count.  

And that thought has not escaped me these last couple of days.  I keep thinking that one day you are just riding down the street enjoying the bike ride, and the next thing is - well, there is no next thing.  Game over.  The End.  It happened so fast, and I dont remember a thing about the tire getting stuck, me falling to the ground, calling Annie.  It is very disconcerting and strange.

So this Saturday, I am still quite sore, but since I did not break or tear anything, I have been gradually moving through the discomfort a very bruised and scabby left side in order to resume a sense of normalcy.  I put on a t-shirt, gingerly lifting my left arm through the sleeve hole. I am very grateful my body is as strong as it is.  I am very grateful I am not hurt.  And I am just very grateful to be here.

Up to the accident, I was very cavalier about wearing a helmet while riding my bike.  No longer.  Next time you get on yours, and you think whether or not you should put it on, just do it.  Just do it.