So, having taped all of the test sheets togther into what I called my ‘play sheet’, I let rip with the small pieces of linocut I had found. I also used the lino of the shape that I’m not intending to use, although I still really like the shape of it. The full print of it doesn’t fit with the background, although I do like the way the background disrupts it. I experimented with just using the outline which I think is effective, experimenting with the quality of the outline by using a bold line painted on with printing ink, some thinned down ink and some charcoal. I also added to some other areas with a brush as well as coloured pencils. I think that I need to sit with it for a while to identify those elements that work – it’s got everything but the kitchin sink in it. Hopefully, some clarity will emerge from the chaos.
I have some initial thoughts.
Printing the solid shapes of lino wasn’t very effective but I do like those bits where I scratched away some of ink from the surface before printing. I also like the muted contour lines in a light grey. The darker colours definitely need greater transparency (I was thinking about the shadow cast by the stone).
It’s a starting point and the next step is to work on a slightly larger piece of paper trying to get the transparency of ink right, adding in some masked areas, and to work out a colour palette. I’ll keep using the lino offcuts for now.
I was a bit disappointed about the lined shape – I really love the effect you get when they overlap and the lines distort. Maybe I need to try something separately but incorporating elements of today’s experimenting, perhaps even including elements of collage. Maybe I could try using mulberry paper, or try sticking with monochrome – it felt a bit strange using so much colour, but I think that I was feeling in a celebratory mood.
That said, there are some areas that I like.
the visible lines the clarity of the bubble layerthe scratched gold shape and the bubbles on the mulberry paperthe effect of the background on the dark shapethe colours in the base layer and the gold shape added on with a brushthe disruption caused by the edge of the collaged piecehas a bit of everything in itthe pale grey contours
As I was experimenting I thought that what I really want is to achieve some thin veils of colour between the bubble layer and the print – like the effect you get when you glaze in oil painting. I’ve questioned recently whether I should try oil painting again. I haven’t done any for so long as I haven’t been going to my classes. It would be like meeting up with an old friend who I haven’t seen for a long time and during which time I have changed considerably. Would I get sucked into being my old self, or would they be happy to accept me as I am now?
The sun was out today so I thought that I would take advantage and engage in some more playful experimenting.
I’ve been lining up my paper pulp lacey membrane sheets by eye – that’s not working and so I’ve marked the edge of the frame so that each sheet is a repetition around the edges which will then line up. I gathered the ones that I’ve made already together in a pile intending to reprocess them in the blender. They took on a 3D form which caught my eye – maybe something for later. I also quite like how they look when laid on white paper.
Then it was onto experimenting with bubbles using a mixture of inks and acrylic paints. I want to create a base layer onto which I will print, draw, paint, whatever takes my fancy. I like the idea of it being biological and cell like, hence the bubbles. I tried cartridge paper and the mulberry paper that I’m using for the book. The mulberry paper gives a much less defined edge which I really like. I tried masking with bits of paper – if I ultimately go down this route I’ll use something more robust and less inclined to buckle when wet, although it did provide some pieces to collage. I wanted to see if I could get a layer of lines below, so tried using a fine liner, a pencil and a combination of charcoal and pastel before applying the bubbles.
My first thoughts are to go with something that’s indicative of inside of the body and so I think that for now I’m tending towards reddish tones.
I liked the effect of the shadow cast by the stone.
I became distracted by the bubbles.
I’ve taped all my test sheets together ready for a layer of printing – I just need to get an idea of size and context for the printed elements. I’ve got together some off cuts of lino and made some shapes out of them ready to experiment with tomorrow morning. I’ve given the main shapes some further thought and decided that having said that they have an identity in my mind, I will not use them again. I might try using their outline, but I will probably cut a new shape most likely using loose lines rather than the straight ones I used previously, to give it a more organic feel. That’s the idea for now, but it could well change!
As I was editing the video of the ink in the water I decided to see what it would look like speeded up. It had a whole different feel to it, less calming, more violent, and so I experimented with adding some audio. I’m pleased with the result. I can trace it back its roots – the doodling, the contour lines, the attempt at suminagashi that went wrong and the inspiration that came from that, of observing ink in water, the ink and the fish tank and the curiosity to experiment with effects that I have developed since I’ve been making videos over the last few months. It’s so satisfying to see how it all connects, although I can probably say the same about most of the work that I’ve been making recently.
In many ways this video is as mesmerising as the 5 minute one of the ink moving slowly through the water. After I had increased the speed it reduced from 5 minutes to only 6 seconds, so I duplicated it over and over. The audio clip was slightly longer than the video clip and so the effect of duplication was to delay the audio on each subsequent repetition. This led to me thinking about when we know that something is coming we anticipate it and often it reduces its impact or sometimes, such as scary moments in films, even though we know it’s coming, it still makes us jump. I was then interested to see how many times it had to be repeated to get back to more or less the right place – it was 7 times (the maximum number of times that you can fold a normal piece of paper in half). My daughter didn’t notice the delay in the audio each time and so I gradually reduced the volume to draw attention to it.
The blackness and lines created by the ink remind me of Gnawing Grief in Klimt’s Frieze. The video reminds me of how grief feels – when it initially hit me it was like having the breath knocked out of my body by a monumental force, over and over, and it made me feel disconnected and out of sync with the world, which just seemed to carry on as if nothing had happened. This video is as close as I can encapsulates that feeling for the time being.
I’ve really enjoyed experimenting with ink in water. Next time I’ll try different sorts of inks and perhaps venture into some colour. It’s been a great learning experience well particularly in terms of working out how to apply layered effects in Capcut and also in learning how to load the video to Vimeo instead of YouTube – the quality wasn’t that great on the latter. I think that I’d like to get more proficient at video-making and editing as well as photography and editing tools such as Photoshop as I anticpate them being a significant part of my practice in the future.
There’s no audio because I don’t want to distract from the visual. I had meant to put in a drop of ink, but it was more like a splodge. Next time I’ll be less heavy handed. It was really exciting to watch the ink slowly flow in the water; it was mesmerising. I really like the way it creates layers and veils of lines, and all the different shapes and images which momentarily appear and then disappear – at the beginning the jellyfish which then grows a nose and transforms into a face.
The ink was in motion for about 10 minutes and when it stopped it just hung there in the water, as if it was frozen in time. It reminded me of stalactites and stalagmites. It was difficult to capture fully what I could see.
I had some leftover ink and made some monotypes with it – just swirls and wipes. The ink is oil based Cranfield Safe Wash and so I also employed a spray bottle of water.
After they had dried, I decided to add another layer, another process – I used thread. I played around with the burnt paper and threaded paper I made the other day.
My daughter walked in while I was doing the next one – oh, do different stitches she said. I’m not making an embroidery sampler I replied, but then I did end up experimenting with different stitches and combinations of colour. I much prefer the lines in which the stitches aren’t apparent – where it looks like a line made by thread.
I punctured the paper from the reverse to make raised bits to add texture – nothing new, I’ve seen a lot of it on Instagram.
And held up against the window:
I’m still thinking about Shiota’s threads.
And threads on top of threads.
Originally in this post, I wrote about an incident in my childhood in which my mother intentionally tried to disassociate herself from me by walking away when I was not feeling very well. I published the post but then deleted the passage. It felt unnecessary because this image is enough.
I’m interested in trying combinations of processes, like print over cyanotype. I used a piece of scrap cyanotype for this one and I like the effect – I’ll experiment some more.
I bought ‘Pushing Paper’ in the hope that I would find its contents enlightening, but primarily because I felt drawn to the cover. The image is ‘Some Interference’ (2006) by Richard Deacon, which he made during his residency at the Oxford Centre for the Study of Gene Function. According to the book, Deacon was initially trying to represent multiple surfaces on a flat plane – the paper splitting into interconnected layers. As things developed, he realised that what he was drawing was difficult to clarify.
Something about it really appeals to me. It reminds me of the doodle type drawings I’ve been doing (On Your Marks… & Lines). Aside from Etch-A-Sketch and Spirograph, this process entertained me for hours as a child. I would draw a random enclosed shape with overlapping lines which created segments to be coloured in. It takes me right back to my childhood. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to it. Maybe it’s because it embodies its simple process as well as having a temporal dimension – the act of drawing each individual straight line. I like the darker line which is formed around the edges of the shapes where the lines have crossed.
Well, whatever the reason, I picked up the nearest pen, a leaky biro, and had a go.
It was a very satisying exercise, despite the blobs and smears. The ‘me’ at the beginning of this course would have discarded it. Instead, the blobs and smears are all part of the process, caused by the movement of the ruler and my hand, a moment hesitating too long in one spot. Nevertheless, I’d like to repeat the exercise with a proper pen, maybe a variety of pens of different thicknesses. In the meantime, I experimented in Procreate.
So, Plan A was dependent on me being able to overprint the red with blue. I did a quick test print. The process blue ink I was using must have some transparency as it turned into a very dark purple, so I made it more opaque by adding opaque white which resulted in a kind of cerulean blue which I liked against the red, although the photos don’t do it justice.
I then prepped a sheet of A4 lino by lightly sanding and wiping with white spirit before staining it with an acrylic ink and drawing on the figures and the white lines. I went over the pencil marks with a chinagraph pencil to make them stand out more. As usual I had launched in without giving it enough thought and ended up having to reposition some lines although I couldn’t erase the chinagraph marks, which becomes relevant later on in the test printing. I used a metal ruler to cut out the white areas and filled them with cornflour to see how they looked, neatening up where necessary – the circles are bit all over the place, so I resolved to use a template when making the actual prints.
I created a registration board for the lino, drew lines where the paper was to go, and printed the first layer using equal parts process red and process yellow. Initially, I thought that I could mask out the figures using some tracing paper. Reduction linocuts work from light to dark ordinarily, but my image doesn’t really conform to that process. I knew one, if not two, of the figures would be a med/light grey and I wasn’t sure how that would sit on top of a bright red. I tried inking up whilst the mask was on the block and then removing it, but it was difficult to do because the mask kept on sticking to the brayer and the result wasn’t great. I decided to ink up the entire block for the rest of the prints. I also noticed that some of the chinagraph was coming off the block onto the prints.
Next, I cut out the contour lines and printed with blue ink. By this stage I had realised my previous error and masked the figures after inking the block, but before printing – a much better result, and I can’t work out why I hadn’t realised this to start with. However, after the first print it was obvious that the registration was off. I had thought that I had lined up the paper the same each time when I was printing the red layer, but I clearly hadn’t. I created a raised edge against which to place the paper on subsequent prints, but I had to accept that the blue and red layers wouldn’t line up on all of the test prints, which would cause problems in relation to the white areas.
There was also misalignment around the edges of the figures which could have been caused by poor registration on the first layer, but could also have been caused by a lack of accuracy in creating the mask, or even applying too much ink.
To complicate matters further, the paper I used was Japanese HoSho paper which being lightweight (90gsm) and strong makes it ideal for printing linocuts. However, it turns out that it is slightly smaller than A3. I already had some Snowdon 130gsm paper, so I thought that I would give that a go, to see if it would be a suitable alternative, even though it is heavier than the HoSho.
Other than a few areas where some bits had managed to get stuck onto the block, it seemed to print quite well.
I then cut away the rest of the block leaving just the figures. I wanted to experiment with both masking areas and inking up the whole block to see how the subsequent layers printed so I could decide on a final approach ie whether to use a mask or to layer the ink. I would have preferred not to mask any areas as it seemed to increase the risk of mis-registration of the print. But before I decided I needed to find out how the final metallic gold layer would sit on top of all the other layers. I noticed that there were some indentations in the outlines of the figures from where I had cut out the contour lines.
I also wanted to see how the grey would print on top of the blue as well as the red, and it seemed to fare quite well, although it definitely has a cooler undertone to it than when printed over the red.
The blue and grey layers seemed to dry slower than the red and, as a result, the dark grey/black ink didn’t print well, and also the cut away areas picked up some of some of the blue and transferred it to the prints. I had the same issue with the gold ink, but by that stage I had become a bit frustrated and impatient, and just wanted to see what the colours looked like together. There are agents which can be added to the ink to speed up the drying process but you have to be careful as to the amount used, as they can alter the colours. I could have swapped from oil based to water based inks, which I didn’t have. So I decided to make the best of what I had.
I know that I make things more complicated for myself than they need to be. I could have watched videos on how to make reduction linocuts before starting, but there is a part of me that thinks that learning on the job is a more valuable, if not more frustrating, experience, and that the lessons learnt are more likely to be remembered (and possibly put me off linocuts for good).
So, what did I learn?
Preparation is key
Registration is everything – I watched a couple of videos after the event and invested in some Ternes Burton registration pins and tabs
It’s preferable not to mask areas if possible but to cut away the lino on each layer
Don’t use chinagraph or anything else which could transfer from the block to the paper
Accuracy is important
I should have had a resolved image before I started, rather than winging it in the process
When cutting out the first and second layers I needed to ensure a clean edge with the figures by using a craft knife
I needed to check that there isn’t any ink on the cut out areas of lino before printing
The ink needed to be dry before printing the next layer
But, the most important lesson is that because of the number of layers and the time needed for drying, it would not have been possible to complete the print before the end of the month. I needed to go back to the drawing board and have less colours so that it reduced the amount of drying time etc. So I amended the image to just white, red, grey and gold.
I made a last minute decision to go to Tate Britain on Friday to see the Ithell Colquhoun and Edward Burra exhibitions before they ended yesterday.
I didn’t enjoy the Colquhoun exhibition as much as I was anticipating, and I think it was because there wasn’t much surrealism.
As I was standing in front of Scylla, a woman commented to me that she had been expecting it to be a lot bigger as it had been used so extensively in the marketing of the exhibition. I assume that she had thought that because the image was used for marketing purposes that it was an important work of Colquhoun’s and because it was important and of value, that it would be large in scale – the old perennial issue of size.
Scylla, 1938, oil on board, 91.4 x 61cm
‘It was suggested by what I could see of myself in a bath… It is thus a pictorial pun or double-image in the Daliesque sense – not the result of a dream, but of a dreamlike state.’
Colquhoun used the Surrealist process of decalcomania to produce a mirror image of randomly applied marks which she then used as a starting point for her work.
Gorgon, 1946, oil on board & its decalcomania counterpart of oil on paper
’I meant to paint a ‘Guardian Angel’ but the result of the automatism was so horrific that I had to call it a Gorgon instead’.
She also used a technique called parsemage, which involved submerging paper in water which had powdered chalk or charcoal on the surface.
These processes offered intuitive access to the unconscious mind, according to the accompanying blurb.
I decided to give parsemage a go – I think that you can do it with anything that can be ground to a dust – I used powdered graphite which has a slightly metallic quality to it. I was really pleased with the results.
I then remembered a post on Instagram of a potter decorating bowls by blowing bubbles. I’ve used bubbles in wet cyanotyping before, so I decided to try it with the powdered graphite. I really like the delicate lines which were created and it was fascinating watching the effect of the bubbles popping – it reminded me of looking at cells under a microscope.
I then experimented with acrylic ink – maybe I should have realised beforehand – but it failed miserably. I wanted to try again with a water based ink, but I couldn’t find them. It might offer a more effective way of creating something akin to cells, than my previous attempts, so I’ll try again when I eventually locate them.
I have had an image in my mind for months. It came from the Elizabeth Stone quotation, I first mentioned in Hearts & Linos .
”Making the decision to have a child – it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”
I think it encapsulates perfectly how I felt when I became a mother. My whole world was turned upside down. I was suddenly responsible for raising and protecting another human being. I felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all; that life would never be the same again. It made me question the sort of world I had brought her into, how her life might be; how much of it I would be a part of, the unthinkable and unbearable pain I would suffer if anything happened to her. She was precious and intrinsic to me, now living and breathing in the world, independently of me.
Original VersionDramatic FilterCyanotypeCoffee Toned CyanotypeAltered background and darker tonesDramatic Filter.Dramatic cool Filter. Worked on hands.
It’s taken a while. Bearing in mind that I’m still finding my way around Procreate I don’t think that I’ve done too badly. I’m sure that I’ve done lots of things incorrectly, but I don’t really care. It’s all a learning process and it was fundamentally about me trying to realise an image that I had in my head. I feel that I’ve achieved what I set out to do. In that respect, I’m pleased with it. I think it conveys the visceral nature of my feelings.
Actually, it has taken me more than a while; it’s taken ages, probably because I kept on making mistakes, but I have learnt lots along the way. I’ve redone parts of it several times but I have to say that it has all been about the process of discovery and realisation. It’s allowed me time to focus on the detail, but it’s been as part of the process rather than with a view to trying to achieve a perfect result. I don’t think that Procreate is a tool with which I can be loose and expressive in the physical sense, but it seems to satisfy that part of me that likes to focus on surreal detail every now and then. Hopefully that will allow the other part of me to enjoy the experimentation of being looser and more expressive in my mark-making when, say, painting.
I decided ages ago that I wanted to incorporate my ink experiments as a background to a collage type piece. I sourced the heart, crawling baby and head of the woman from royalty free image sites which allow for reproduction of the resultant work, if need be. The body is my daughter. She’s a bit freaked out by someone else’s head being on it, but I wanted a neutral character, and I couldn’t find an image of a woman sitting on a chair that fitted my requirements, so I roped in a free model.
It was challenging constructing the crawling heart. I’ve had to rebuild parts of it including the hands as some of the fingers were hidden in the original image. It was quite difficult finding source images whose licences allowed me to do what I wanted to do, and were also free. I’ve played around with editing effects and colours and I think that I’m settled on the last image for now. The slight greenish tones, complement the red heart. I really like the cyanotypes, but unfortunately there isn’t enough tonal variation and the slightly chaotic background loses its delicate tonal transitions in the process. I might try again but change the background to something a little less busy. But I like the historical, almost Victorian Penny Dreadful feel to them. I might develop it further, but I’ll leave it on the back burner for now.
The time delay video created by Procreate is of epic proportions, but it’s helpful for me to watch it back so I can see what a song and dance I made of it all. This is a shortened version.
Last summer I became obsessed with cyanotypes. Then there was plenty of sun. There was some sun the other day, but not much since, so I decided to make myself an exposure unit using my Speedball UV lamp and following instructions on Handprinted. I do love a bit of DIY; there’s something very satisfying about making do with something handmade which didn’t cost a fortune to buy, or require some fancy kit, or having to go to a specialist location.
I used an old printer box which was large enough to take A3 sheets, cut out a hole for the lamp to sit in, and then lined it with aluminium foil.
I selected a few photographs to experiment with; some from the family photos which I’ve been sorting out, and others which I have collected on my phone as inspirational resources, as well as some images from the experiments earlier on in this blog. I converted them all to black and white and then inverted them in Photoshop, printing them off on transparencies. I had to dust off my old printer to do this as I wasn’t sure how to do it on my husband’s printer. This took a while because between each print I had to perform a ritual of pressing certain buttons in a certain order in order to fool the printer into thinking that I was using genuine HP ink cartridges, which I wasn’t. The things you can learn on YouTube.
Ironically, the sun came out, so I did a mix of au naturel and my DIY unit.
Me
The first two prints were made using the unit, the first being over- exposed at 20 minutes, the second being just about right at 15 minutes. The last two prints I did outside in the sun, which was a bit more hit and miss because the strength of the sun was not constant as it kept disappearing behind some cloud cover. However, I do really like the effect of the visible strokes which I left when applying the solution to the paper, which was A4 300g/m2 hot pressed watercolour paper. The markings give the effect of a moving, flickering , transitory image – there, but not quite there. I put two images on the same negative transparency because I wanted to create a number of smaller images to experiment with. However, the suggestion that the images are on a roll of film is really interesting.
My mother & my brother – capturing a connection and a perfect expression of motherhood
It’s been really difficult getting some of the old photographs out of the albums; they are the sort which have sticky pages on which you position the photos, and then put a transparent film over the top. Over the years the adhesive has seized up and practically bonded to the back of the photos. I’ve tried all sorts including gentle heat, dental floss and a bendy, very sharp filleting knife.
This one of my mother and brother is a favourite, but sustained a small tear on the right. I am pleased with both images – the first one was done outside and the second in the unit, which seems to have more of a Prussian Blue hue to it although I’m not sure that there’s any rhyme or reason as to the differentiation in the blues – but I really like the movement in the second one, again giving the impression of a fleeting moment. I think that the solid areas at the top and bottom add to it, suggesting a frame from a film of a moving image.
This is a photo of the statue which sits at the bottom of my mother’s garden next to her makeshift pond made out of an old washing-up bowl. I always used to wander around the garden when I visited, stopping at the pond to see if there were any frogs around. I do like a frog – my grandmother on my father’s side used to have a rockery, and I used to spend most of my visits looking for, and trying to catch frogs. That, and hanging out in her shed and greenhouse with the tomato plants – I love the smell of tomatoes; it takes me right back.
The problem with a cyanotype is that if you leave it too long, you over-expose it, and whilst you get deep blues you lose the midtones, which is what I thought I had done with the first one, so I exposed the second one for less, but it turned out to be under-exposed – even putting it in a hydrogen peroxide bath didn’t help. Both were done outside; perhaps I should have done a straight 15 mins in the unit, but where’s the jeopardy in that?
This is a photo that I took looking up into the branches of the three trees that I like. The negative image is also really interesting, and I might do something with that at a later date. The image (last photo) is underexposed again, but has a feeling of being removed, almost as if I’m looking at it through my window (which incidentally does need a good clean). I wanted to try fabric, but could only find some thin cotton lawn. I was so disappointed – it turned out terribly. I had visions of being able to create long, flowing, billowing, wispy cyanotypes, but ended up with the image above. You can just about make out the branches.
I will need to think about this a bit more. My first thoughts are that maybe there was a coating on the fabric, so I’ve washed it; maybe the image was too detailed, but I’ve seen quite detailed images on fabric; that the structure of the fabric is not robust enough – you can get pretreated fabric which is like a sateen so I could try that; or maybe there wasn’t enough contact between the fabric and the negative. I need to take some time to reflect, and try again.
The images above were from my experiment with ink in Blot II , and from A State of Flow II . It was a useful exercise in that it confirmed to me that not everything works as a cyanotype – I much prefer the original images, particularly the ink one, as the edges between areas of flooding and blots are much more defined, and there is more of a delicacy about them. The contrast between the blue and the black ink also adds interest which is lost in the cyanotype.
So, on reflection a really useful and enjoyable exercise. The thing that I really enjoy about this process is the anticipation, and then the slow reveal as you rinse off the solution to see an image slowly emerge, or not, as the case maybe. Doing it outside as opposed to in the controlled environment of the unit adds a degree of extra excitement, but equally there is the risk of crushing disappointment when it doesn’t quite work out.
Moving forwards, I was intending to experiment with toning some of the smaller images of me with tea, coffee, wine etc, but I actually like the last couple as they are, so I will keep them as finished. I’m thinking about how I could use multiple exposures to create layers, and also thinking about manipulating the source image a bit more in Photoshop and printing from the original image rather than reversing etc. I’m not sure whether I’ll get straight to it, or do something else in the meantime – sometimes I go hell for leather with something and then exhaust it, or myself, or become disenchanted with it. I don’t want to get too far down a rabbit hole, so maybe I should leave a bit of space before going back to it, to allow for some more subconscious reflection. I suppose the clue was in the opening sentence: “Last summer I became obsessed with cyanotypes”, and I haven’t done it since.
Kate McCalmont-Woods 