The snow’s here. Everything’s white. Well, some things are a bit white and everything else is just cold. But it matches my mood: 2016 has started crisp and fresh and bright for me. After a period of resistance to New Years’ Resolutions I made a few, and one of them was to take Black Prints in a new direction.
My little lino printmaking business had begun to languish at the end of 2015 as I wrestled with a welcome onslaught of writing work. My handmade artworks were starting to look like a financially misadvised self-indulgence which would have to be kicked into the leisure time section of my life.
Leisure time or not, my resolution was to spend less time worrying about making art for sale, and more time exploring new styles and techniques, developing my artistic voice, whether or not it would turn a quick buck. The chances are that longterm, this adventurous attitude is more likely to strike a seam of gold, but with writing work paying the bills, Black Prints doesn’t need to be my workhorse any more.
Today I had the freedom to put that into action. I had finished a commissioned print. I had turned some illustration in for feedback. I had written the introductions – in two languages – to a book I’m working on, and the next paid writing project had not yet landed in my lap. So I had the luxury of a full day in which to carve away at my artistic boundaries.
And that’s what I did. I found a photograph of the central figure in my book – Fr Allan MacDonald, priest of Eriskay in the late 19th century – and I sketched the image directly onto lino. Instead of my usual flat, almost naïve black and white carvings of Amsterdam canal houses, here I was going to flex my hatching muscles.
And that’s what I did. Improvising as I went, I hatched the face, and I hatched again. I hatched a little too much, to be honest, till I began to lose some of the detail. I carved the oilskins at speed, only taking a chunk out of the dinner table once (oops), and I headed out to the shed with a smile on my face.
I couldn’t feel my fingers. I switched the heater on. I mixed up the ink and pulled the first print. It was much better than I expected, but there were smudges where the empty areas were picking up ink, so I grabbed the carpet scissors from the toolbox and I chopped those out. The ink was playing up in the freezing cold so I added some oil, and then I was flying.
I printed six good ones – 14 good ones – 20 good ones, and then it was 15.30. Oops, one child waiting to be picked up from school. I flew there on the bakfiets (a bike with a sort of wheelbarrow at the front, to the uninitiated), one handbrake frozen shut and the gears stuck in third, and I brought him and his pal back.
Then I ran straight back to the shed, and I marvelled at my creation. I cleaned up. I marvelled again.
This is going to be a good year.
_______________________________________________________
About Catriona
I love to tell stories. My career has covered many bases, but communication has always been at the heart of everything I do. From journalism, politics and PR to art and design; from broadcast animation to published picture books and copy editing, it’s all about making people look and listen, and love what they hear.
Looking for a copywriter to help you tell your story? Get in touch!