I’m a big fan of the montage — a device in movies used to move the story along. The characters grow, change and learn, all while accompanied by a great soundtrack. I need this for my studio. I am back printing my large (25 x 40 inch block) linocut, and patience has been required at every turn.
My latest linocut, hanging to dry after a trying printing session.
My image is a large cloud formation, over a small area of flat land. I couldn’t decide whether this was summer or autumn land, so I did some of each. With such a large block, I would hate to guess wrong. I used a frisket (or a mask for non-printers) to help me lay down some of the bright colors of the land which will contrast with the darker, more monochromatic clouds. This is not an exact process, as I discovered when I printed the first layer of blue. My measurements must have been off, because it overlapped the land in a small band!
My initial reaction was to try and carve away a thin strip or linoleum, but this a dangerous operation. I could carve away too much, and would then be left with an inexplicable slice of exposed white paper. Like a very itchy insect bite, I had to tell myself, don’t touch! This area will be covered by the darkest ink anyway.
More problems came as I printed the first and second layers of transparent blue. There is something about the combination of lots of transparent base and just a touch of pigment that leads to a gummy residue on the block. After every four prints, I had to clean off the block to prevent this residue pattern from transferring onto my paper. I have found that the first transparent layers of a linocut often look terrible, but are incorporated into later layers with no trouble. Again — don’t touch and don’t fret!
Wouldn’t a fast forward button and a great soundtrack be perfect right now?
Elizabeth Busey. Hope Despite the Evidence.
Linoleum Reduction Print, 17 x 25in, 2013.
In the last post I related the saga of my ruining a block and having to start over. This print is the final result of a new block, new paper and many more hours of carving. On the previous block I carved away those crucial corn stalks that extend over the water. Without them, I don’t think your brain would have been able to make sense of things.
Summer in the Midwest has been a combination of searing heat and unrelenting drought. I feel as out of shape as if it were February, hibernating in my basement studio dressed in shorts. Questions abound — when is this going to end? What does this mean regarding climate change? Should I change the front yard landscape to cactus? Will we still be able to get that fabulous bi-color corn from the Farmer’s Market? Will future summers also be this hot?
Elizabeth Busey. Détente.
Linoleum Reduction Print,
(28 x 9in), 2012.
My latest print looks at the world within a much longer time frame. A Bloomington collector friend suggested I look at the mountain ranges in southern Colorado. I learned that these mountains were formed by several different geological upheavals over a vast time span. This movement, along with the punishing effects of water, wind and sun, have created ranges that are alive with serpentine energy.