20th Annual Dayton Area Works On Paper

So, it was about a year ago when I entered my first juried show, the 19th Annual Dayton Area Works On Paper. To date, my percentages are pretty good, as this year it was the 4th juried show I've submitted to and the 4th show for which I've had an entry accepted. Even better, when the show opens this Sunday I'll be receiving my first award.

When I was trying to decide which three things to enter I thought I should enter similar pieces to show a "body of work" but then I ran into trouble when I really wanted to enter a couple of the new collagraph prints I've been making out of trash. They are interesting and colorful and different from what I've been doing and I like the way they look, but the prints I've pulled thus far have a few little printmaking mistakes were more than this perfectionist could bear. In the end I submitted three unrelated pieces in different mediums, and as soon as I dropped them off I began to question the wisdom of that decision.

But actually they were related pieces of artwork. They were personal. They all meant something to me. The reduction print of the morning view I love whenever I turn right off my street. The monotype of Alex and Anna when they were younger I did this year on my first Christmas Eve spent without my children. The soft pastel portrait of my grandfather I gave him on his final birthday.

I had two of the three selected, and the monotype almost made it in as well. I'm not sure what it means, but I think it means I should keep entering juried shows. And I think it means that making art that you have a connection to might be more important than making pretty pictures. Representing the the things in life that stir your soul and move you and make you smile and make a tear run down your cheek...

And maybe that's what it takes to be an award winning artist.

Road Into Town, Continued Once Again

So, I put the final layer of ink down on my Road Into Town print a couple of Sunday nights ago, giving it just enough time to dry before throwing it into a frame to submit to Dayton Area Works on Paper the following Monday. I've blogged about the making of this one here, here, here, here and here, but I just wasn't able to bring myself to print the final reduction until faced with a deadline. And I wasn't thrilled with the end result, although it did look good matted and framed.

Apparently good enough to get into the show. The Road Into Town is completed at last, or at least version Number 1.

And Now, Something Completely Different

So, I'm not even sure where to begin with this one. I could begin with a description of the proofs I pulled today at the Dayton Printmakers Co-Op on my second trip there. I could talk about the Co-Op, but that needs pictures (blog post soon to come). Or I could start with how I got there in the first place, because thinking your days are numbered can lead to an interesting carpe diem story. Or about how wonderful the idea sounded to me of belonging to this Co-Op when my printmaking professor talked about it in 1987, and that 1987 was the last time I used a press or stepped foot inside a print shop. Or even why 1987 was the first and last time I used a press or stepped foot inside a print shop, which would be a tale of misdirected youth and bad life decisions.

The fact is, I am a little overwhelmed with all of it right now. I know that a year and half ago I brought a brayer and some ink into a classroom of 4th graders for project when I used to volunteer for an art program. I know that the second I put that brayer into the ink something connected. The sound. The smell. The tension of it against the ink. Magic. Life has not been the same since that moment.

When I took that Printmaking 101 class 23 years ago, something clicked and I knew it appealed to all my senses, and I knew I had a passion for it, but at 19 years old I had no idea what that term even meant. Now I know, and I often start to wonder if I I have just wasted 23 years of my life doing commercial artwork when I could have been fulfilling that passion. I like to think that everything I've done to this point was just training for where I am now.

A printmaker. Maybe.

New Year, New Print & Out of the Mouth of Babes Comes Wisdom?

So there it was, January 2 of the New Year, and I had just finished a reduction print and was thinking about clearing up my printmaking mess and putting away the Christmas decorations. Instead I kept staring at the two 12" x 12" linoleum blocks my 14 year-old son had picked out for me as a Christmas present, and he was putting the pressure on.

"Those are big, you need to make something cool!" and "What are you going to print from those?" were just a few of the comments I was getting on a daily basis. He was so proud of himself for picking out a gift he knew I would enjoy that he was beside himself with anticipation of what would come from it.

I've been thinking for a while that I wanted to a reduction print based on this pastel I did earlier this year, with a greenish sky and orange trees, and I decided now was the time. I proceeded to draw out something similar in Sharpie on one of my new Christmas blocks. While I was drawing and looking at the pastel it made me think about what direction I wanted to go. For some reason, I am compelled by the idea of having prints look more like drawings, of having more freedom and expressiveness line. I don't want them to look graphic or like a copy of a photograph, I want them to look in some way representational of what I see, and have some feeling and movement to them, and maybe impressionistic is the word to describe it.

And then I start to think, why am I not just making pastels? This one is pretty decent and it's a hell of a lot easier than printmaking. But, as anyone who prints will understand, there is nothing quite as rewarding as pulling that paper off the block and seeing what you have created even though it does take a lot of planning. Is it possible to make something planned look expressive? Or even more important, is it possible to create and carve something expressively that has to have planning to it? The planning kind of takes some of the freedom out of it for me. So that, I think, is one of my goals this year, to find a combination of spontaneity and planning that is evident in the finished print.

So, as I began to draw out the future print on my fresh piece of linoleum, I had a lot of things running through my head. I was thinking about how it would work out, and how I would carve it and how I would refine the lines before I carved. Then my son came into the room. He said something like "Too bad you can't make a print look like the way you draw." Hmmm.

I've never tried to print the way I draw and sketch. I was getting kind of close to it with that sycamore reduction print I just finished, but that was planned. I've always drawn, and then refined my lines to what I think a print should look like before I started carving. Maybe the key to finding the balance between what is planned and what is spontaneous for me lies somewhere in following the lines that come naturally to me when I draw.

I have no idea how this will go as I follow these Sharpie lines, but it's worth a try. Game on, son. I'll take that as a challenge.

Christmas Print

So, here it is. My Christmas print. It's a monotype with about 8 impressions on Sekishu with Akua Kolor ink and measures approximately 7.5" x 10". I've found that it is really difficult to get a rich looking black with these inks, hence the multiple impressions. The fact that I don't actually have black ink might also have a little to do with that.

This monotype is from a picture that came from a folder labeled 2002. I think, though, that from my daughter's wispy and barely existent hair, it could have been taken a year or two earlier. I'm guessing Alex and Anna were about 6 and 4.

It reminds me of Christmas past, of the magical mornings where they rushed to the tree to open packages of Legos and Playmobil and dinosuars and Bitty Babies. And it reminds me of all the Christmas Eves I stayed up half the night wrapping presents in two sets of wrapping paper, one from Santa and one from Mom and Dad.

This year, all of the presents were wrapped and under the tree by Christmas Eve, and the toys and surprises, a thing of the past, replaced by clothes and cell phones and amusement park passes. Instead of wrapping, I started this print. I'm calling it "Remember Christmas Magic, Alex & Anna 2002."

Road Into Town, Continued

So, I put this monotype in DVAC's ARTtoBUY gallery shop. It was kind of a last minute decision because I wasn't sure I wanted to part with it, but since I'm doing the reduction of the same scene I thought I could let go. It's the view when I turn right after pulling out of my street, and it's quite a lovely view headed down the hill that leads into Bellbrook. It always looks different depending on the time of day and the day of the year and the atmosphere. In reality it doesn't actually look all that much like this, but this is what it feels like to me. I guess that's the reason I thought about keeping it. It has personal significance.

Last night was First Friday and I was at The Cannery after leaving DVAC, and I was approached by a group of women who had come from there as well. One of them had just purchased three of my prints, including this one. We talked for a while and she told me about trying to decide which of my prints to buy and of her plans to hang them together. It turns out that she also lives in Bellbrook, and not only does she live in Bellbrook, but she lives almost directly across this road from me.

I love it that without knowing it, she bought a representation of something she sees every day. And that my "Road Into Town" monotype is her road into town.

The First Demonstration

So, last night I did my first printmaking demonstration at DVAC's opening of ARTtoBUY. First of all, the gallery looked great and I can't believe the transformation of half of it into an art gift shop. Hats off to Patrick Mauk who runs the thing, as he did an incredible job. Secondly, that place was filled! It was three hours of non-stop people and at many times it was difficult to even move about. I can see why they call the event "highly anticipated" on the website. I'm looking forward to my first volunteer day so I can look around and see what items other area artists have to offer. There were some gorgeous looking ceramics pieces and and lots of handmade jewelry.

The reason I didn't get a chance to look around was that I was incredibly busy the entire time I was there. I talked for three straight hours without a break while printing and showing prints I'd done and explaining the process. I think I actually did much more explaining than demonstrating, which was OK, because printing while talking isn't exactly something I'm very good at. I also learned a few lessons about demonstrating, so I think the next time will be easier and I'll be more prepared.

There were a few things I did wrong. First, I was running late, which isn't a big surprise. That left me setting up as people were arriving, and I have to admit I was a little disoriented. I'm so used to my printing set-up at home that it wasn't easy to replicate it in another environment quickly. I hadn't realized that I had become such a creature of habit when it comes time to print. I always know which brush is for the blue and where it will be, so looking for it threw me off a little. Actually the brush/ink thing was a problem that I'll have to give some thought to before I attempt this again. So was sitting down. I've been printing at my kitchen island standing up and for some reason sitting just felt uncomfortable, and my back agrees.

I'm glad I had thought to bring all the sample prints from my demonstration block (above) because I strew them about the table and it looked as if I had just done them, and I could talk about them as I was inking up the block. That block I had made, with several different print combinations, was definitely a good idea. It was easy to explain registration, which a lot of people were curious about, as well as layering colors and having different blocks for each color.

Also, I'm glad I thought to bring what was left of the block from a recent reduction print along with a couple of proofs. It made the proccess easy to explain. In hindsight, though, when someone wanted to purchase one of the proofs which was a different color than the others in the edition, I probably should have let her. She really liked the color. The problem was that I really liked the color to, and I wanted to keep it for myself. I've got to get over that if I'm ever going to make money at this.

I'm a little on the fence as to whether or not it was a good idea to have prints for sale on the table with me. It was probably a good idea, but it kept me from demonstrating because I spent so much time explaining how each was done. Maybe there's a line there that I have to figure out - am I there to show what I do or am I there to talk about it?

And finally, about the talking... It seems like there were mainly two groups of people I talked to. There were people who were not artists or those that used a totally different medium who liked my work and might potentially buy something, and there were those who did similar types of artwork or printmaking who were intensely curious about what I was doing. I enjoyed both groups. There are definitely some people out there who would like to give this a try and I think I could be a rep for Akua Kolor Inks. People who print and have never tried water based inks are amazed by their properties and how they can be used like paint. I have to admit that I had a little difficulty when there were times I had to balance the two groups at once, because I would definitely prefer to talk about ink and paper and barens over trying to sell something.

It was a positive experience. I enjoyed it and the next time I will be more prepared and less apprehensive. As I was on my way home, I started thinking about the demonstration. I was thinking that maybe I'm better suited to showing people how to do this rather than trying to sell what I've done.