Diary of a Residency, Day 7, February 22, 2009

Day 7, Feb. 22. I think it’s Sunday.

I am back at the House after two days of intense thinking about the qualities of wood blocks. And some  intense cutting of wood blocks. I didn’t get to the printing of wood blocks except for barren (hand) pressed proofs, and I only managed 3 of those. But I found the cutting mesmerizing.

It was being in the zone, much like painting, where you stop only when bodily functions demand your attention. And my zoned out state was in the midst of a very busy way-station for a lot of people coming and going — many Beatty folk dropping by to see Suzanne and David and check out what was happening at the Red Barn. There were also the six participants, including Suzanne, as well as Maria, our instructor. Much swirling about and conversations, while I sat in the midst of it, watching wood curlings move ahead of my tool, totally immersed in the pushing of the knife across the surface of the walnut-stained wood.

Maria has that touch of the good teacher, not apparently asking too much, but  being available at all times, checking to see how everyone is doing, always “on” as the go-to person. Not only were her instructions clear and easy to follow, but her question, “Having fun?” was really meant as the query “how can I help?”  She managed to make it sound like a greeting, so we all felt free to say, “hey, how do I keep my edges from looking like a beaver was chewing them.”  At least that was my question. And she answered it as if it were a natural problem, easily overcome. Every person in the group worked with great intensity and intentionality. All of the participants had more experience than I did, but we were all equals in interest and concentration.

I’m too old to get into wood block prints, but if I had an extra twenty years of artistic life on me, I would be tempted. And that’s even though I’m a mushy painter, a lover of the butter of oils, someone who hasn’t a graphic, black and white gene, anywhere in my DNA. Maria kept saying “it’s all about process” and for me, it  was. I felt totally out of my element in design and composition, what with black and white and mass and reverse imagery, but the tools fit my hands perfectly. They felt right.

I got prints from most of the other participants, who in the two days not only carved and proofed and printed but actually printed in two/three/four colors, which meant doing two/three/four blocks. That concept, of printing multiple colors, was way beyond my capacity this first time through, so I didn’t even pretend to try it. And I really wanted to do a second block, which turned out to be more demanding than the first, so I only got one proof from it.

The first block I cut was from the Clarno Palisades painting that I used for the postcard for an exhibit in Fossil, Oregon.  I had brought the postcard with me, so I could use it to look at.  Here’s the first wood cut block:

Clarno Palisades, Wood Cut Block, about 5 x 7, draft 2, no prints as yet made.

The second block I cut today was a version of my textile piece, Miocene, that I did after the John Day Residency:

This is Miocene, silk and cotton, reverse applique, painted and machine stitched, about 6 feet x 7 feet, 2007. (This data is approximate; my database of info isn’t here with me and my brain isn’t functioning fully after the long day.)

This is the image of the wood block carving that I made from a photograph that I did have with me:

Miocene, 5″x 7″, wood block, no prints yet made (second pass through with the knives).

I’ve enhanced this image a bit with photoshop, so the carving marks (and the first proofing ink bits) are still visible. I’m not ecstatic about this wood block. I think I’d like to do a couple more until I get what I want  — I can imagine more presence of the central figure, more — or maybe less- mass. A bigger block? Or the same size block but with more empty space and edge work?

At any rate, it’s been two terrific days of art working. The others, with their multiple prints and multiple colors, generously “traded” prints with me in return for the as yet undone prints that I will send them. Promises, promises.  And Maria sold me a print, for a price that was really a gift.

So it’s now been the first full week. I’ve set out 7 stones. This morning, before we began, I found the spot to “build” my desert installation, which won’t include stones. [ed. note: like some other goals, this one got lost during the following month].  I have been told that I should just be “mindful” about rattlesnakes, which advice makes me crazy, for if there is anything I am full of mind about, it’s the possibility of rolling over a rock and seeing a buzzing snake. I am now gathering my repertoire of Mojave rattlesnake stories  — gathering stories may be a version of knocking on wood. Or maybe people love to tell tales to someone who quivers at the thought — the tales always end with, “but it’s OK — just be mindful.”

I exaggerate only a little.

And oh, yes, after all her generosity, I still owe Maria 6 dollars. I write this down as a testamony, and so I won’t forget it. Hopefully.

Reported from Beatty Nevada, at the Goldwell House, February 22, 2009.

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