Inclined Plane: (What will it take to move me?).

 

The Inclined plane is one of the 6 simple machines, used since ancient times to aid in construction or move masses of stone, or materials up or down.  By increasing the distance traveled, the amount of force needed is decreased when compared to hauling the same weight straight up or down. Blocks of stone were hauled up long ramps to build the pyramids and the blocks of Italian marble were slid from the quarries, miles to the sea using sloped ramps and rolling logs and teams of oxen to ship by boat to Rome and the rest of the world. The forces acting are gravity, pulling downwards, inertia, a body's resistence to movement based on it's mass, and friction, the resistence to sliding based on the nature of the materials and their surfaces. Increasing the slope, decreasing the coefficient of friction (by oiling or wetting the surface), or applying an outward force (pushing or pulling) will all aid in moving any object up or down the ramp. 

But this was intended as a metaphor and not a physics problem.  I've been stuck for a while, not with creative block, I have a book of ideas of prints and images I want to explore, but with something else.  I can't seem to get anything done.  I've a desk and studio full of unfinished work and many more never started.  And the BIG things, changes I need to make in my life and for my career, sit in a stack, getting taller as it also gets buried, by all the things that I let pile up and take precedence over the important, or distract me, long enough, so it's too late most every day to even think about tackling my problems.

So, it's been a long time since I really worked on a new woodblock print. The combination of the COVID-19 pandemic, quarantines and lockdowns and the political upheaval in the USA and Italy have had me fairly paralyzed, glued to the computer trying to figure out what's happening next or wondering about the future.  So when the Barenforum called for participants in their next print exchange,  in a simple format and without a theme,  I decided to take the hint, and sign up, hoping that the deadline would help push me to start working again. 

This was meant to be a simple image of a dark block, sitting on a steep slope at the borderline of what would visually feel like it might want to move, or slip, on it's own, or with a little help. One has to imagine the forces preventing any movement--inertia, maybe laziness, fear of failure or habits of self-sabatoge, the frictions of daily life: my duties as parent or husband, taxes, a mortgage, family conflicts very near and far away, ageing parents and troubled children, the quiet and odd newness of an ageing body and the subtle return of hints of illnesses known but never really conquered or new, disquieting symptoms that whisper menace with all the things that any little thing might portend. 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                What to do?

 I can increase the slope. Sooner or later, I'll start to slip and then accelerate downhill.  I can try to smooth the rough parts on the path, make the rough and irregular road, smooth and slippery. Or I can wait for some inevitable, eventual, external force--maybe positive: such as an invition to participate in a print exchange or residency, or a commission, or an exciting idea that just begs to be worked on, or negative one--a major life event or disruption--that forces me finally to change or startles me into flight.  But either way, like it or not, I have the sense that once it comes, and I start to slip and accelerate downhill,  it may not be possible to control how fast or far I go, or stop if I want to.

"Inclined Plane" "What does it take to move me?"  8" x 10" Mokuhanga watercolor woodblock with handwritten text. Edition Varié, 30 copies on off white or beige Japanese kozo paper.  9 color impressions from six plywood blocks with Sumi ink, watercolor pigments and rice paste. 

 

An early sketch

 

 

I may never finish my novel....

The blue-gray of the ferrule isn't showing up in the scan.

  This print began as an etegami--another of the small Japanese mail-art cards I make.  It was done during my first Etegami workshop, where I used a small pencil stub to make 3 different simple sumi ink and watercolor drawings, with added text.  I knew right away one would become a print.
I also have a novel and probably a few short stories in me--although I doubt any will ever get written.

This is a simple image, but getting it carved and printed has posed a few hurdles.
I enlarged the size of the work from postcard-size (3"x5") to an easier to carve 8" x 10" to make it less likely that I'd have too much trouble cutting the text but I still had the top half of one of the "e"s pop off;  I had to re-glue and re-cut a repair 3 times due to glue failure the first time, wrong glue (too elastic) the second time, and (fingers crossed) the last repair seems to be holding.  Mostly I've had a hard time getting into the studio with enough protected time to just get it done.

The above copy/proof is on Fabriano Artistico--a thick, Italian watercolor paper but there are still a few things to work out:
   The original drawing was done on a postcard--so it had a natural boundary (the paper edges) and the drawing "happened" with that scale in mind, but printed on a bigger sheet, it now has a much larger outer border of white paper--and I can either leave it like that  or print a very faint rectangle of very pale color (it's called a Beta-ban block)--that would recreate the original horizontal, small format on the bigger sheet.  This variant still needs to be finished as well as a few more that have a different block order to see if it changes the final look.

Here's the original etegami watercolor and sumi ink postcard.

This print, is pretty close to recreating the original--I did tweak the pencil in a few places, lessening the slightly phallic droop of the point. I also pushed the text over a little bit, and reversed the chop (white letter on red field).









Tomorrow, I'll finish printing the rest of the proofs. That will allow me to see what they look like with the background block before I cut down the rest of the paper and print the final version or full edition.



This set on Japanese paper is almost done. They lack just the two yellow layers of the pencil wood and the sumi ink "keyblock" and text.  I'll post a finished version of these too as soon as they're done.

You can't see the beautiful gray-blue of the metal ferrule--it won't pick up with the scanner but it really goes well with the orange-y pencil and pink eraser.

October News-Tattoos, Mokuhanga and Etegami

October is just around the corner and I'm busy preparing for some new experiences.

DEMO: Next weekend, as a guest of the Lacrimanera Tattoo Studio, I will be demonstrating Japanese woodblock printing at the Florence Tattoo Convention.
This year the 11th edition of the Florence Tattoo Convention is partially dedicated to the history of Japanese tattoos (and their inherent relationship to modern tattoo's ever increasing interest in the works of the Ukiyo-e as subject matter.  Thanks to Ivan Pengo and Milan's Stamperia 74b and Florence's Lacrimenera Tattoo Studio, there will be an exhibit of the wonderful Adachi Institute woodblocks reproducing well-known masterpieces of the Ukiyo-e by Utamara, Kunioshi, and Hokusai and as part of that show, I've been asked to demonstrate Japanese woodblock printing during the Convention.  I'll be present all day Friday (3p-2a) and Sunday (noon-2am) and I'll have a dedicated table where I'll have blocks, prints, paper and other materials and hope to be carving and printing and working on a new print during the convention.  If I'm not too exhausted, I'll try to be there also on Saturday, and I'll be working on a new print with both carving and printing demos during the day.
So If you fascinated by tattoos, or fascinated by mokuhanga, there will be both at the Fortezza da Basso in Firenze next weekend.  I'll be at Stand 4, just inside the main entrance.

WORKSHOP Later in the month, if you are tired of just watching, you can learn how to make your own woodblock prints at my next mokuhanga course. For the weekend of  October 19-21, I'll be in Ravenna, Italy for my next 3-day, beginner's Mokuhanga Workshop. I'm hosted by Enrico Rambaldi and Ink33 and there are still places in this usually sold-out workshop in a wonderful city famous for it's phenomenal Byzantine mosaics. For information: infoink33@gmail.com

ETEGAMI And on Sunday afternoon, October 28th from 2pm-6pm I'll be giving an Etegami workshop at L'Appartamento, Via dei Geraldi,  in downtown Florence.   Well use sumi ink, watercolor and Japanese paper postcards to marry art and text with a lighthearted technique perfect for writers who want to illustrate their writings or artists who want to try adding text to spontaneous sketches drawn/painted on absorbent paper postcards.  Save the date and I'll post more information soon.....