Making

Last week I had the fortune to be able to use a little of the wonderful workshop space at West Dean College of Arts and Conservation to complete the editioning side of a project I am working on for the college The project involved the editioning of 600 colour lino-cut Spring borders, which would be the surround to a lino cut Easter Egg children would get to print at West Dean over the bank holiday weekend. It took over ten hours of non-stop printing on a nipping press, or bookbinding press, courtesy of WD. I set myself up in full swing on one workshop bench, kept myself to myself as best I could, and moved as little as possible. When editioning, the trick is to keep movement to a minimum - set up your workspace so that everything is quick, efficient and seamless. Every minute counts, literally.

The editioning bench.

When doing such a job, the mind and body find so much of a rhythm that you can allow yourself to start to thinking about things that may have otherwise been put to the back burner. It was funny because one of the items on my thought agenda was what a bizarre position I find myself in, printing by hand 600 lino-cuts when I could ordinarily get a high quality digital print for a fraction of the shoulder ache. But of course, I was being devil's advocate for myself as I knew it was worth it. It was only when another crafts person came up to me and mockingly commented that I could have just got them photocopied, that I burst out the passionate reasons why I was doing this by hand, and indeed why it is important to showcase to a wider audience that this was hand-printed. The gentleman did then say he was pulling my leg and I should have come up with a witty remark along the lines of it has been a long time since I have had a biscuit and jokes slip me by, but instead I feel I went a funny shade of crimson and felt rather sheepish. But he did make an interesting comment, which I get a huge amount from the ever faithful Jo Blogs.

350 prints done, 250 to go.

The number of times people have assumed (yes assumed, without even asking) that when I say I am a printmaker, they think I press 'print 'on a computer screen. It is only when I begin to explain more about the craft that their eyes light up with interest and they realise that there is a lot of history, skill, creativity, imagination and ingenuity involved in this wonderful art form. For everyone one of the people this weekend taking away their printed egg and border, they will be able to smell the linseed oil ink, feel the slightly raised level of the ink against the paper surface, notice the slight print discrepancies, see the transparent glow of the primrose yellow blend and know that every one was hand-printed with love and care.

The nipping press used to print the edition.

I do what I do because beyond the love of it, beyond the sharing of what I believe to be a challenging and expressive art form, I do it because in a world full of people relying so much upon distractions of technology, connecting with what is actually real and made with our body is supremely strong. It is something that will weather any storm that is thrown its way. Take for example knowing how to make ink. A basic skill in its essence, yet something that we never really teach to anyone. Yet we teach children how to read and write before they can fully climb trees. And in order to have those letters on that page that we then read, they use ink. Nowadays a chemically derived digital ink, but trace it back centuries, millennia, it is basic ground ink that was part of the journey to get the words there in the first place. Without the ink, there would not be the words on paper. And so is this skill redundant? Is it a dead language? Surely not, to be able to make ink from basics such as charcoal, or even mud, would allow communication to happen even without the need for reliance upon technology in a future that no one knows where it is leading. It would allow expression in any situation with any means.

Getting ready to pound charcoal to pigment to make ink.

It is a learning curve for me all the time. The skills I am developing and questioning everyday in my practice have connections with cultures and practices across the world. I by no means profess to know entirely why the hand-printed border is better than the digital version, but it is, it just IS. For the reasons above and for the many more I could talk about, the world is a better place when making takes place.