Subscribe: Woodblock Dreams
Added By: Feedage Forager Feedage Grade B rated
Language: English
block  blocks  blog  bokashi  dreams blog  dreams  fire  made  paper  print  printing  prints  woodblock dreams  woodblock 
Rate this Feed
Rate this feedRate this feedRate this feedRate this feedRate this feed
Rate this feed 1 starRate this feed 2 starRate this feed 3 starRate this feed 4 starRate this feed 5 star

Comments (0)

Feed Details and Statistics Feed Statistics
Preview: Woodblock Dreams

woodblock dreams

Studio blog of Annie Bissett, an artist working with traditional Japanese woodblock printing (moku hanga)

Updated: 2017-12-10T22:08:48.886-05:00




Watercolor woodblock (moku hanga)
11 x 17 inches (28 x 43 cm)
Made from 5 blocks, 16 hand-rubbed applications of color
Edition of 8 on Yukimi paper
Shapes derived from four video stills of fracking flares.

Gas•light [gas-lahyt] verb
To cause (a person) to doubt his or her sanity through the use of psychological manipulation:
How do you know if your president is gaslighting you?

Gas•flare [gas-flair] noun
A gas combustion device used in industrial plants such as petroleum refineries, chemical plants, natural gas processing plants as well as at oil or gas production sites such as hydrofracking operations:
The gas flares, which are bright enough to be seen from space, turned a peaceful little life into a nightmare.

The shapes in this print are derived from a video of gas flares from a fracking well, but I couldn't resist the double-entendre with the psychological term "gaslighting," which is being used often this year as people discuss the condition called narcissistic personality disorder and whether or not the president of the United States suffers from it. Gaslighting is one of the things that narcissists do.

Here are some process photos.

Dumpster Fire


Watercolor woodblock (moku hanga)
11 x 17 inches (28 x 43 cm)
Made from 5 blocks, 11 hand-rubbed applications of color
Edition of 8 on Yukimi paper
Shapes derived from five video stills of a fire in a dumpster.

Dumpster fire. Because it is.

The challenge on this print was getting a dirty look. I had a few hair-raising moments getting to the end, so I don't have very many process photos, but here are three.



Watercolor woodblock (moku hanga)
11 x 17 inches (28 x 43 cm)
Made from 5 blocks, 8 hand-rubbed applications of color
Edition of 8 on Yukimi paper
Shapes derived from seven video stills of a molotov cocktail being thrown at a wall.

About a week ago, just as I was finalizing this print, I visited the Rubin Museum of Art which specializes in art from the Himalayas and I noticed this descriptive text about a class of Tantric Buddhist deities who are shown as wrathful:
One of these kinds [of deities] includes enlightened beings that assume fierce appearances to remove obstacles or perform other protective functions. Though they may look like demons, these deities are said to be wrathful manifestations of wisdom and method.
When I first proofed the shapes that resulted from superimposing seven stills from a video of a molotov cocktail exploding against a wall, I noticed that they resembled some kind of a cartoon monster. That monster likeness plus my musings on fire and anger combined in my mind with this text and so I decided to mimic the flaming hair and "aura" that I had seen on the wrathful deities at the museum for one last layer.

Detail of the Tantric Buddhist inspired flames.
Black Hayagriva from the Rubin Museum



In my experience, anger is one of the best reasons to do spiritual practices. By spiritual practices, I mean meditation, contemplation, attention to the present moment, lovingkindness, mantra repetition, prayer, and other techniques and tools for focusing the mind and emotions. Last week, Uma Thurmond was asked about recent allegations of sexual harassment and abuse by Harvey Weinstein and others in Hollywood, and her answer was a brilliant display of working with active anger. allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="" width="560">I started this series of images about fire in light of my own anger after the election of Donald Trump almost one year ago today. Anger is compared to fire in our language for good reason—although useful, both anger and fire can easily grow out of control and become overwhelmingly destructive. Anger also spreads like wildfire. I believe that anger is the most contagious of all the emotions. Observe what happens in a room when an angry person walks in, or how quickly a small incident on the road can escalate into a full-blown physical confrontation. If you want to offer something of service to the world, learning to manage your own anger is a great beginning.I’ve spent a lot of this year learning to be responsible about my anger. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this much intense and sustained anger before. Yes, I’ve felt bursts of anger, and even simmering resentments that have lasted for long-ish periods, but never sustained white-hot undiminishing rage like I’ve felt this year. It’s nasty and I don’t like it, but it’s here so I’m trying to learn to handle it and to use the energy for something creative rather than destructive. As we’ve seen this year, watching the white house wrecking crew, it’s much easier to destroy than to create.This next print is based on eight still frames from a video of someone throwing a molotov cocktail at a wall. Here are the first few color passes.Two passes here. First a full uncarved block printed with yellow, with a patch wiped away to show the white of the paper, and then an orange on top, with a bit of blotting in the hopes that it will soften the flow of one color to another in the final result.A third layer, a more orange red. Again you can see the blotting I'm doing before I print so that the sharp carved lines between the colors will be less distinct.Layer four, with a wash of what is actually a red oxide tone. The blotting is doing what I wanted it to do—hooray!Copyright Woodblock Dreams blog[...]



Watercolor woodblock (moku hanga)
17 x 11 inches (43 x 28 cm)
Made from 5 blocks, 7 hand-rubbed applications of color
Edition of 10 on Yukimi paper
Shapes derived from four video stills of a bonfire.

I've been working on these prints for almost a year now. After the 2016 election I was so upset and thrown off my game that I could barely tear myself away from the news cycle and drag myself into the studio. When I finally got going again, it was images of fire that matched my inner felt sense* (see below for definition).

My usual way is to just dive in and go once I choose a direction, but for reasons unknown to me I spent most of the spring and summer test printing the blocks for this series. For the past two months, and probably for another couple of months ahead, I'm editioning the prints, probably 10 or 11 different designs in total. So today, I give you "Bonfire."

Less intimate than a hearth, a bonfire conjures up a larger gathering, in a park or on a beach or in a back yard — like a campfire, but bigger. On a darker note, the image of a bonfire can also suggest a ritual burning of objects deemed immoral, a "bonfire of the vanities" such as book burning or burning of art as conducted by iconoclastic religionists or authoritarians. Bonfires can also be included as part of a protest or riot.

As with all of these prints, I'm depicting the flames, not the fuel.

Below are the blocks showing the four different shapes derived from a video that make up the print.

* Felt Sense*
This is a term from a psychotherapeutic technique called Focusing. A felt sense is a body sensation that is meaningful and that points to and somehow matches a vague, elusive and often pre-verbal inner experience. I think that locating the felt sense of any particular experience or situation is useful for artists and is in fact often used by artists intuitively — that moment of aha, when an image just feels right.



Watercolor woodblock (moku hanga)
11 x 17 inches (28 x 43 cm)
Made from 6 blocks, 9 hand-rubbed applications of color
Edition of 10 on Yukimi paper
Based on five video stills of a fire burning in a fireplace.

Hearth has the word heart in it, and for many centuries (or maybe even forever) the cooking fire has been the heart of human life. It wasn't until 200 years ago that the open hearth was replaced by a fire in a "box," with a flat top and oven, and it was another 100 or so years before modern ranges, gas and then electric, became common. My own grandmother's electric range had a small attached wood stove that she used for heat and for warming food as late as the 1970s.

Lynn and I heated with wood for three years when we lived in Taos, New Mexico. It was messy and a lot of work, but I loved it. Chopping wood, hauling it into the house as needed, banking the coals overnight and then firing the stove back up in the morning — those rituals became embedded in our days and connected us to natural rhythms that you just don't experience when your "home fires" are unseen in the basement and you simply turn a dial to make heat. I recently read that watching a fire in a fireplace or fire pit lowers blood pressure, and the longer you watch the lower it goes, so who knows, maybe our love of hearth is biological.

If you've never seen Michael Pollan's series, "Cooked," it's pretty interesting. The first episode is about fire.

allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="" width="480">

I Love a Fireplace


I grew up with a fireplace. My dad loved making fires, and he showed me how to open the flue, how to warm the chimney and get the draw going, how to bank coals, and how to add wood so that it wouldn't smother the embers. When Lynn and I bought our first house, having a fireplace was high on our list of must-haves and we used it a lot. Now we have a gas hearth, which is nice and easy and not at all messy or smelly, but I miss the rituals involved in tending a wood fire.

So the fourth print in this "Playing With Fire" series is a hearth.

Here are some in-progress photos.

Two colors with some yellow wiped away to reveal the white of the paper.
Another block printed. This block had a fairly strong grain pattern.
Six colors shown here.

Next I'll be darkening the background and adding some bokashi (gradation).

Candle In Wind


Watercolor woodblock (moku hanga)
11 x 17 inches (28 x 43 cm)
Made from 6 blocks, 10 hand-rubbed applications of color
Edition of 10 on Yukimi paper

This print was created with shapes derived from four selected video stills of a candle burning in a windy place. A steady flame is lovely, but more often than not the wind blows. I used to smoke, and I remember lighting a cigarette outdoors was like this. Or keeping a candle lit at an outdoor vigil, or trying to light a campfire on a damp windy night. Or candlelight on a porch, or near an open window.

The bokashi glow appears quite strong in this photo. It's a little less so in real life.

Here are a couple of shots of the print in progress.
After four impressions of color
Five color impressions

Steady Flame


Watercolor woodblock (moku hanga)
17 x 11 inches (43 x 28 cm)
Made from 5 blocks, 11 hand-rubbed applications of color
Edition of 15 on Yukimi paper

This image is again based on shapes derived from video stills, this time a video of a candle burning. Even a very steady flame has some movement. Fire always moves.

In the tradition that my meditation practice comes from, the image of a steady flame is used to signify the light of consciousness, the self or center of one's being, which is constant and cannot be perturbed. Making contact with that part of oneself is one of the goals of meditation. A candle flame is evocative of other things, too — religious ceremonies, holidays, winter, romantic dinners, a small beacon of hope or home. There's something comforting in it, I think.

For you print nerds, let me talk about that little smudge at the base of the flame. It's another kind of bokashi, called atenashi-bokashi (gradation without definition), which is used to make rosy cheeks or other circular shapes. An uncarved area of a block is dampened with a wet cloth or brush to define the border where the fade is to occur and then pigment is applied with a small brush. It's difficult to get a consistent effect.

A circle of water has been applied first and then brown pigment added to the center and allowed to spread on its own.
A light rub with the baren transfers the circular smudge to the print.

Pulling Some Grain


I've added a few more color layers to this flame image, bringing the total number of color passes to eight. You can see that I've just begun to build a circular bokashi (color blend) to make the flame glow. More layers to come. You can also see some wood grain in the print. Wood grain is another of the Mysteries of Mokuhanga.

I'm using shina plywood, which I almost always use, and shina doesn't have much in the way of wood grain, but every so often there's a piece that prints a pretty strong grain and I saved this block for the last impression because its grain looked promising. Sure enough the grain is printing. I may not be able to keep it as I add bokashi, though. Printing shina grain requires a somewhat dry block and a great deal of baren pressure. You can use a wire brush on the surface to try to enhance the grain, and I've even heard of folks using a blowtorch before the wire brush. The idea is that the torch and/or brush takes away the softer parts of the grain and leaves the harder parts. I'm not planning to go to those extents for grain, though. Just trying to see if I can do it with pressure and careful registration. It very well might not work!

A closeup of the block itself. The grain mirrors the flame shapes.
A closeup of the printed grain pattern.

Hand Made Washi


Here's the print in process with two more colors (two more blocks) added. This makes a total of five impressions so far, and the paper is holding up much better than it did for the previous print, when I noticed some paper fibers lifting during the printing.

Paper is another Mystery of Mokuhanga, another of the variables that can make or break your print. I mostly use Japanese hand made washi, a strong type of paper made from long fibers of kozo or gampi. The fibers are hand pounded, mixed with some stuff, and then hand molded using screens. (See this blog post about a paper-making family I visited in Japan in 2004.) The paper I'm using for this series of prints came from Woodlike Matsumura in Japan and is called Yukimi. To be honest, the main reason I chose this paper is because of its name — yukimi means "snow viewing" and I liked the idea of making fire prints on paper named for snow. I was able to take a chance on an untried paper because I almost always like whatever paper I buy from Matsumura-san.

Anyway, just as my bokashi vary from print to print because I'm not a machine, had made washi varies from batch to batch and sheet to sheet because it's made by human hands. So it's quite possible that the paper I'm using for this print is literally different than the paper I used for the Strike a Match print, even though it's the "same" paper.

For the record, I like Yukimi — it's strong and fairly thick, bright white, and colors don't dull on it.

More Than One Way to Make a Bokashi


In a quest to keep my printing momentum going in spite of the fact that I have other work plus an "active" puppy, I'm moving right along to the next print. For this one I'm basically scaling up the candle flame print that I made in December for a small print exchange with some of my mokuhanga tribe members. That little print turns out to have been the test run for this whole series.

Fire glows, so for this series of fire images I'll be using a lot of "bokashi" — graduated color blends. There are a number of ways to create bokashi, and I began this print using a wiping method to create a gradation. First I covered an uncarved block with a yellow pigment, then I used a rag to wipe away a small circle of the pigment where I want to keep the white of the paper. Here's the printed result:

I then overprinted the yellow with a pale orange using a second block with a flame shape carved away:

Strike A Match


STRIKE A MATCH Watercolor woodblock (moku hanga)11 x 17 inches (28 x 43 cm)Made from 5 blocks, 14 hand-rubbed applications of colorEdition of 12 on Yukimi paperFourteen applications of color is as far as the paper would let me go, so this print is finished. I have some more circular bokashi ahead of me, so I'll be a pro by the time I've got this series (Playing with Fire) completed, but my technique still needs work.A friend on Facebook noted the other day that limitations are an excellent fuel for creativity, which made me aware of how I often establish rules for myself prior to making a series of prints in order to keep things manageable. The limits/rules I set up for this series are:- all images come from video stills of fire- same color palette for all- I will show only the flames, not the fuel being burnedFirst I selected some shapes from a slow-motion video of a match being struck:I transferred individual shapes from this sketch onto five different blocks and then carved them. Then I tested how the shapes looked when printed and played around with different ways of doing the printing. I often regret showing this kind of background work because invariably someone says that they like the proofs better than the final, but I feel strong enough to take it, so here are some of the proofs I made:The shapes are really interesting and look like a kind of flower, but I wasn't happy with how "solid" they looked. Not at all like fire. I wanted it to look more ethereal and very bright at the center, so that's how I ended up printing 14 layers of bokashi instead of these more solid shapes.One of my bokashi in the final was more like a rainbow roll (below). Except with water and a brush instead of ink and a roller. And round instead of straight across. And yes, that's a shoe brush. Not the highest quality brush I own, but just the right size. Above is a shot of the full edition all laid out on my kitchen floor so you can see how consistent (inconsistent) my bokashi is from print to print. Not bad, but they're definitely not all exactly the same. That's OK with me.Copyright Woodblock Dreams blog[...]

Circular Bokashi


As I mentioned in my last post, making a circular bokashi (color blend) is tough. I don't feel accomplished at it yet, so I don't really have any tips. I can tell you what to watch out for, but not how to do it correctly. Too much water will give you speckles (you can see speckles in the top photo), which isn't necessarily wrong but it's wrong if you're trying to make a bokashi without speckles. On the other hand, not enough water and/or too much rice paste will give you distinct lines between your color shifts (see bottom photo). What's exactly the right amount of water? You've got me.

Here's the printing I did over the weekend.

This photo was taken after two applications of color on Block #4. Hard pressure and not too much paste gave me some nice grain. Too bad it will be covered up with subsequent layers.
And two more applications of color from the 5th block. I still want to heavy up the background to make the glow stronger.
This is a somewhat strange way to build a print, because the pigment is being added to the background rather than to the central image. The central image is formed by shapes carved away from the background, so those shapes are never relief; only the background areas are relief. It's difficult to anticipate how the pigments will build up, and it's also hard on the paper to build the layers up on top of each other like this. I've now put 10 layers of pigment on this paper, and some of the paper fibers are beginning to lift. (The paper is Yukimi from Woodlike Matsumura in Japan.) We'll see if it can take more layers or if I've reached a limit here.

Make It Work


Even if you do a lot of proofing beforehand, printing mokuhanga style is full of adventure because there are so many variables. The final result depends on the composition of the wood, how much water you use, how much pigment, how much rice paste, how you swirl the brush around on the block, how hard or softly you push with the baren, the type of paper, how damp or dry the paper is… you get the idea.Today I printed a couple more blocks, two passes on each block. I'm slowly building a circular bokashi (fade or blend) so that in the final print the flame will seem to glow. Any bokashi is difficult to do consistently and a circular one is wicked. Nevertheless I persisted.Two passes of a pale orange using Block #2Block #2 was pretty straightforward to print, but block #3 got interesting. About three pieces of paper into the edition I noticed that I was consistently getting "baren suji" — marks in the print made by the baren. I got panicky, which is usually my first reaction to making what I perceive to be a mistake, but then I took a breath and walked away. When I returned I knew just what to do. USE the baren suji! So I intentionally made baren marks moving around the bokashi like rays of light.Baren suji around the glow.This may not even show up in the final print after more layers are added, but I needed to treat it as if it would be visible, just in case.These prints are taking on a lot of moisture with all the water for the bokashi glow, so I'm letting the paper dry out now. I'll re-wet it tonight for tomorrow's printing session.You can see that the bokashi glow is a little bit different on each print. That's because I'm not a machine. The more layers I print the more varied the prints will become. That's just the way it is.Copyright Woodblock Dreams blog[...]

A Small Explosion


Because of its characteristic layering of transparent colors, I've often thought that mokuhanga (watercolor woodblock printing) could lend itself to representing movement over time. Movement being an essential quality of fire, this series seemed like a good opportunity to test that idea. I decided to use video stills of fire to derive the shapes for each of these designs, and I hope to see some movement in the resulting images.

Archaeologists estimate that human beings started using fire, which they probably harvested from spontaneous grass fires or lightning strikes, a million years ago or so. Fire usually starts with some kind of explosion, as the heat that's applied reaches a high enough temperature for the fuel to ignite, so I begin the series with the lighting of a match — a small controlled explosion. I was surprised to learn that the first friction match was invented quite recently in the long history of humans using fire:  1826.

Here is block #1 and the print that resulted after two pale applications of color from this block.

All of these images will be 11 x 17 inches

A circular bokashi (fade) is really difficult to do consistently.

Poised To Print


Hello September! Long time no blog. I think blogging is sort of over, but I do love this blog, both as a record of my studio practice over the years and also as a way to connect with other folks, so I'm going to try to revive it.

In my last post back in March I introduced a new print topic: FIRE. I've been slowly working my way through a series of images on that topic and it's been an interesting process for me in that I've done way more test printing than I've ever done before. Usually I just carve the blocks and then barrel through the printing, letting myself learn how the blocks print as I go. But for some reason I decided to proof these images before editioning. I think that's actually how most (or many) printmakers do it, but I've always found it more exciting to just cut and print.

Above is the stack of carved plates (double-sided) that I've accumulated since January, and I'm finally ready to print them in earnest. (You can see some of the test proofs hanging on my wall.) I'll be blogging each print as I go, so stay tuned.

Oh, and I should also tell you that I have a new studio assistant. Her name is Zuzu. She likes to work with paper.


Playing With Fire


Many people agree that the year 2016 was a crummy year. We lost beloved celebrities (Prince, Bowie, Gwen Ifill, Leonard Cohen, John Glenn…), Brexit happened, and Donald Trump was elected president. For me personally it was a crappy year, too, as we lost both our beloved dog Ty and my partner's father. But I have to admit, the election of Trump hit me hard and for several months I couldn't make any art.

Pantone, the makers of a color matching system used worldwide in design, announces a "color of the year" every winter, and the joke meme above enjoyed a brief but viral appearance on social media at the end of crappy year 2016. (The artwork is a 1562 painting called The Triumph of Death by Pieter Bruegel the Elder.) As it turns out, this feeling of burning seems to be following us into 2017, and in that spirit I've decided to do some woodblock prints exploring the element of fire.

More soon…

Your Land


YOUR LAND (click photo above to enlarge)Watercolor woodblock (moku hanga) with colored pencil, pochoir, and rubber stamp11 x 30 inches (28 x 76 cm)Edition of 27 + 2 A.P. on Japanese Shioji paperI spent the first six weeks of 2017 making a large (for me) edition of prints for a print exchange portfolio that will be shown at the SGCI Printmaking Conference in Atlanta in March. The portfolio, called Train of Ink, metaphorically retraces the journey of 72 Indians who were captured at Salt Fork, Oklahoma, and brought to St. Augustine, Florida, from 1875-1878 by train. This portfolio, organized by John Hitchcock, is the second work I've made on this topic. The first was a drawing which has been part of a touring exhibition called Re-Riding History.For this print, I chose to create an actual map that focuses on two conflicting movements: the motion of the text and train from from left to right (west to east – the opposite of the movement of colonization) in contrast to the movement of the horse from right to left. I also worked with depth, layering from bottom to top to depict colonization as a superimposing of one experience of geography on top of another. The undermost layer is a litany of Native American place names that are still in use to this day from the states that the train passed through in 1875-78. A map of U.S. state lines and the colonial place names that the train passed through are overlaid."This Land Is Your Land" is not a popular song in Indian Country, but I think it gains new meaning when I, a descendant of European colonizers, say it in this context. This land is your land.Here are a few process shots.The first carved block was the text for the Native American place names.I first printed a light tan tint using an uncarved block, then printed the place names in a darker tan on top. I left the edges uncarved on both blocks so that I could have brush stroke edges rather than sharp lines.Next I printed some blue to define the ocean in the map. That's Florida over on the lower right.Next, a horse runs from east to west. This was a carved block which I printed three or four times to get the dappling and the darker edges.I used colored pencil to add the state lines. (No way was it worth it to carve those lines!)Next I printed the train route, from Oklahoma to Florida. You can see from the block above the print that I used the same block for several printed parts. I simply added kento registration marks wherever they needed to be to get the element onto the paper in the correct spot.I hand cut an acetate stencil and used it to add the large black text. For ink I used Guerra lamp black straight out of the bottle and applied it with a stencil brush.Finally, I used a rubber stamp alphabet to add the train stops as the train made its way to Florida.Copyright Woodblock Dreams blog[...]

Happy Holidays


Watercolor woodblock print
10 x 7.5 inches on Japanese Shioji paper

Hello, dear blog readers.

It's been awhile since I've posted, largely because it's been awhile since I've made any prints. The sudden death of my father-in-law in November, plus emotional fallout from the U.S. presidential election, locked up my creative juices for a time, but I'm easing back into my studio with this small holiday print.

Wishing you light, warmth, love, and peace as 2016 draws to a close and a new year comes to us. Happy holidays to all.

xo Annie

Paint By Number Yellow Lab


PAINT BY NUMBER YELLOW LABWatercolor woodblock printSix hand-carved blocks10 hand-printed applications of color12 x 9 inch image (30.5 x 23 cm) on 15 x 11 inch (38 x 28 cm) Echizen Kozoedition: 15, plus 5 artists proofs and 1 "poet's proof"___________________Made for a 20-print portfolio called Traces (named after a poem by Annie Rogers which contains themes of memory, language and loss) this print is a tribute to my 13-year-old yellow lab Ty who died in June. After working for many months on the Relics dot prints, and then spending six weeks on this print of Ty's fur, it seems to me that the more closely you look at something, the less sure you become that you know what it is.The print and portfolio will be showcased by Zea Mays Printmaking at the Editions/Artists Book Fair in NY, November 3-6, 2016, so please go check it out if you're in NY!Here are photos of the print in progress:Copyright Woodblock Dreams blog[...]

The End (Maybe) of Virtuoso Carving


Detail of Block #5 carving

Working from the photograph of Ty's fur I showed you in the last post, I used Photoshop to help me separate the image into six distinct colors, then transferred the separations onto six 12 x 9 inch blocks (30 x 23 cm). I started carving around September 1 and have been carving ever since, today being the 21st. I'm happy to say that I'm on the 6th block now. (The print is due October 15.)

In my own mind I call this very detailed, very tiny, very tight type of carving "virtuoso carving." I've worked like this quite a bit in my woodblock career — see my carving of page one of the Algonquin Bible, or the recent halftone Relics prints for example — and it's totally in keeping with the traditional Japanese method of woodblock printing (think ukiyo-e prints). It's also physically demanding and intense to carve this way. I've developed arthritis in my neck as I've aged and it's uncomfortable for me now to spend 100+ hours at my carving desk, even though I use an easel-like setup and a good chair. I never say never, because I know how I am, but this print may be my "virtuoso carving" swan song.

We'll see about that…  Meanwhile, I know the feeling I want this print to have. I want it to look just like my beautiful Ty's fur. I want it to look soft and inviting. I want it to cry out to be touched. And I think that requires hewing closely to the photo.

I made a mistake on block #5 and had to fix it. Obviously, a small slip of the knife on a print of swirly fur can often be ignored, but I slipped on an area where it really would have glared. Superglue to the rescue, as superglue doesn't soften with all the water needed in mokuhanga.

As tough as this carving job has been, I don't anticipate that the printing will be much easier. It will be an edition of 21 prints, per the portfolio specs. I have to pause before printing to get ready for Northampton's Printworks 2016! I'll tell you about that in the next post.

Hair of the Dog


Before I continue the story of the woodcut I'm making for my dog Ty, I want to clear up one thing. Something I wrote in the first post led several people to believe that I'm doing a series of prints about Ty. No. Just one. I'm making one print that will be part of a portfolio with Zea Mays Printmaking.In my last post I showed you some Photoshop sketches I made playing with the idea of doing a paint-by-number portrait of Ty. I landed on the idea of doing a winter scene with small figures representing me and Ty walking into the distance and I sat with that image for quite a while. Finally, though, I let it go. It felt too cliché. Something I learned as a commercial artist is to push beyond the cliché. People recognize and identify with clichés, but a visual cliché also allows a viewer to glance at the image, think to themselves "oh, right, I know that," and move on. I think the best images use cliché for connection but then add a twist to make a viewer look again.More importantly to me, though, the iconic mid-century paint-by-number look just felt too silly and ironic. It didn't match my feelings about losing Ty. So I began again, trying to locate an image that would better match the whole "felt sense" of my relationship with Ty and how it feels to not have him with me any more (see note* below for more about felt sense). I looked through my photos of him, and this one jumped out at me: This is a photo of my favorite part of Ty's body. It's above his left front leg, I guess you'd call it his shoulder, where the fur of his "mane" became the more regular fur of his hind quarters, and I loved the way it swirled right there. My eyes often landed on this part of his body when we were at rest together.This is the image of Ty that clicked inside me as "right"— as being true to my feelings about him. It expresses the intimacy of the relationship, the physicality of it. I'm a very mental and visual person, and I learned so much from Ty about being physical. He demanded that I inhabit my body fully. He wanted me to run and hike and throw balls and play and he wanted us to always be touching some part of each other when we rested. It's that physicality, the athleticism of him, and the warm comfort of touch that I miss so much. My fingers miss the beautiful softness of his fur and the strength of the muscles under the fur. So this is my starting point for the print._____________________* Felt Sense*This is a term from a psychotherapeutic technique called Focusing. A felt sense is a body sensation that is meaningful and that points to and somehow matches a vague, elusive and usually pre-verbal inner experience. I think that locating the felt sense of any particular experience or situation is useful for artists and is in fact often used by artists intuitively — that moment of aha, when an image just feels right. Copyright Woodblock Dreams blog[...]

"Traces" Portfolio for the E/AB Fair


Print portfolios are a tradition in printmaking, I've learned. A portfolio is a group of prints, usually united by a theme or technique, presented in a case of some kind. A portfolio can be created by a single artist, or more often by a group of artists. Sometimes the portfolio is an exchange, where each participating artist receives a complete portfolio, and sometimes the portfolio is designated for sale. For me, there are pros and cons to participating in portfolios (we can get into that in the comments if you all want to), but I was invited to participate, along with 19 other artists from Zea Mays Printmaking (ZMP) studio, in a portfolio that will be showcased in NY in November 2016 at the Editions/Artists Book Fair and I jumped at the opportunity.The portfolio is called Traces, named after a poem by ZMP studio member Annie Rogers which acts as the prompt and unifying theme. It's a strong poem with a lot of visual word-images that could be used as inspiration, and it contains themes of memory, language, loss, and childhood. As I wrote in my last post, my mind and heart were fixated on the loss of my dog Ty and when I read the poem I became also fixated on the mention of a paint by numbers kit.Vintage paint by number paintings are an iconic mid-century art form — low-brow and democratic, much like many types of printmaking. Paint by numbers is also a pretty perfect description of the traditional Japanese process of making a woodblock print. In this method, most of the major decisions about the image are made in the sketch phase. The carving and printing are executions of the sketch and literally involve carving areas for each color based on a drawing and then laying those colors down in the printing. Click this link to see an example of how the colors build during the making of a print, much like filling in a coloring book, and much like painting by numbers.So I started looking at vintage paint by number kits.Deer are a very popular motif in paint by numbers.Rivers are also popular, and Ty loved his rivers!I photoshopped a picture of Ty onto a river-themed paint by number just for fun.There's quite a bit of Asian-themed imagery in paint by numbers, too. That could be cool, to reference the Japanese roots of my chosen art form.Ha ha ha, here's Ty in Japan.Or why not just do a straightforward paint-by-number style dog portrait like one of these?Snow scenes are also popular paint by number themes. The top image here is a Kiyoshi Saito woodblock print (I love Saito). I was surprised to see how much the Saito looks like paint by number. A snow scene would also work with the poem "Traces," which talks about snow and a blizzard.This is one of my favorite Saito images, "Winter in Aizu." The solitary figure is so lonely and haunting. Maybe I could do a Saito-style winter scene of tiny me and Ty walking.The winter scene is where I landed and I spent a long time pondering what the scene might look like. In the next post I'll tell you about a subsequent shift in my thinking.Copyright Woodblock Dreams blog[...]

My Dog Ty


Three months ago my 13-year-old yellow lab Ty died. Actually, he was 13 years and 1 day old. We didn't even know he was sick, and the day before he died, on his birthday, I had a fantastic time with him. We went on a long walk at his favorite local place, the Mill River, and he had some canned tuna to celebrate his big day. The next morning I awoke to find him pacing around in the kitchen and I knew instantly that something was seriously wrong. After some visits to the veterinary hospital, it was determined that a tumor in his abdomen was bleeding and there was nothing they could do to save his life, so we euthanized him.

They say that losing a beloved pet is emotionally and psychologically as difficult as losing any other family member, and that feels true to me. I'm coming around now, but one of the things I've had on my to-do list while the grief is still fresh has been to design a print for a portfolio I'm participating in with Zea Mays Printmaking this fall. With Ty on my mind so strongly, I found that as much as I tried to not make my portfolio print about him, I couldn't get my attention to go anywhere else. So I'm working on a print and it's about Ty.

I started by looking at some photos of him. Here are a few pix, and I'll post again tomorrow to share the specs for the portfolio and how my ideas have evolved.

Ty was not allowed on the furniture. Except sometimes.
Ty as a youngster.