Shorthand Sketches

I had reason to sift through my many Moleskine sketchbooks in search of little landscape roughs this week. I usually carry a pocket Moleskine around with me on my walks and often stop to scribble something down. It's never anything wonderful, just a form of shorthand, catching the design which I've spotted in a part of the landscape.

I understand my notes, though I don't know if anyone else would. Very often I'll draw them in a frame. Even though I've only started lino printing again recently, I've never stopped designing print ideas, knowing that one day I'd find time to recreate them. Some of them are very small indeed - this one below is about 5 cm/2" wide;

Sometimes I can *see* a whole colour print as I sketch and make notes accordingly.

Sometimes my notes come right out of my head and are so garbled that not many people except myself could work them out.

This one below is actually an idea for a decorative mount with corner vignettes - hot air balloon (really) in the top left corner, lost balloon in the top right, trio of trees bottom left and solitary house bottom right with winding path. It is the crudest of notes, but to me it makes perfect sense. Had I not quickly jotted it down, I would have forgotten all about it.

At other times - if I am waiting for something - like a bus - l can be painfully neat. All the observational drawing feeds into doing believable imaginative work.

These notes have turned into more stylised designs - it's like banking ideas for a future date.

Even if they start out quite realistic.

Here's a more natural sketch, but still making a feature of the curved frame the old beech tree trunks make.

I can often remember the exact moment I drew something, and what the weather was like, even if the sketch is many years old. These were drawn from life but with a definite view to make into lino prints.

I used to be painfully shy about my rough sketches, many years ago, but now I don't care what anyone else thinks - scribbles they may be, but their practical use is just a first step towards the finished product and for that reason, they are priceless to me.

Monsieur le Roitelet and the Birds

Nearly everything I buy comes from the internet; the village has a couple of food shops, but that's it for anything useful to me; I don't drive and what buses there are, are infrequent, expensive and take a long time to get from A to B. Buying something like good paper, which really needs handling, is a problem.

However, handily, there is a brilliant paper merchant Paper Resources, literally just down the road from us. So in search of some really nice papers, I popped in to see them. Unlike a lot of paper suppliers, they are more than pleased to sell small amounts to individuals and the choice is fantastic; hence I emerged with a decent amount of gorgeous smooth, specialist papers, for about ten UK pounds, all handpicked by the merchant and myself, with much deliberation, including a wodge of hard-to-find Mohawk paper from the USA. Happiness!

So commenced another round of remembering how to print. Lino printing seems to be a bit of an ugly duckling in the art world - not regarded as sophisticated as etching, more akin to stamping or potato printing. However, there is a bit more to it than that. For a start, to get a really good, smooth print, the ink has to be rolled just so, the paper chosen to go with the ink viscosity and then the actual rolling of the ink onto the lino block is in itself a delicate operation, to get an even surface. I don't want edges on the print, so it mustn't be too thin or too thick.

That up above is a nice vintage Speedball brayer, which I was trying for the first time; I'm going to stick with it from now on as the roller is nice and densely soft, making the ink go into the block better than the harder rollers on my other brayers. I roll the ink out about an hour before using, to let it harden a little and get the right 'tack' - then it is rolled out thinly and again on a tray and then on a glass slab, until it starts making the right kind of light hissing noise. And only then it is carefully rolled onto the block, checking it from every angle to make sure that all areas are covered evenly. I look for a velvety surface like this;

To minimise ink getting where I don't want it, I use a mask while I'm inking up the block. The bed of the proof press I use has also been carefully raised up with various layers of paper and card, to get the depth of impression I want - even slipping a single sheet of newsprint underneath makes a difference.

And then yet another mask, for the actual printing.

The paper is held into place with a bit of tape, but I also like to hold it down lightly with my thumb as I make the first pull across, to stop slippage and misprinting.

I do two 'pulls' - quickly but carefully, not taking the roller off the paper, or it will slip minutely and give a double, blurred impression. It's a single, smooth movement and often goes wrong for me, with the first practise pulls. Here we go, with the first - the impression showing through.

And after the second pull. Now you can really see the deep indentation. Taking care to remove the paper so that you don't smudge anything, you peel the print from the block...

Breath a sigh of relief, as this time it came out well.

A now familiar sight in our little front room-cum-print-studio. Much has been discarded over the three hours of work and out of this lot, only a handful were deemed good enough to put in my shop.

Printed on the gorgeously smooth Mohawk Superfine heavy ivory paper, there are 14 copies of this printing of 'Monsieur le Roitelet and the Birds' for sale here at a princely £5.25/$8.

I'm really pleased to have managed that many, as it's a vast improvement on my other print runs and I think I'm getting back into the swing of it at last, after an 18 year break. Less bodge, more hurrahs.

If you are in or near Oxford, Simon of Paper Resources is going to be selling similar packs of paper at the Fine Press Book Fair on the weekend of 5/6 November at Oxford Brookes University, details here. I may well be going myself, to look up some old friends and seeing what's new.

(PS - There is a reason why my little man is called Monsieur le Roitelet, but I'll let you Google that one yourselves).

Hereford Cathedral

This week we had a little day trip over to Hereford, part of the Welsh/English border counties area where we hope to move next year. Visiting Hereford Cathedral was top of the list of things to do in our short time (as we had caught the train out). It is smaller than one of our local favourites, Gloucestershire Cathedral, and the stone is darker - a pinky, shadowy sandstone, unlike the light limestone we are used to in the Cotswolds. We were given a very warm welcome and there were so many interesting and quirky features, not the least being this wonderful - chandelier is the only word for it - poised like a halo or abstracted crown of thorns, above the crossing. Looking from this point towards the High Altar and far beyond to the Lady Chapel -

- and seen from the side, with a crucifixion painting just to the left which I instantly recognised as a Craigie Aitchison and later found that it has been loaned to the cathedral by the Jerwood Foundation. I'd love to see this area at night, when it is illuminated.

Prayers are said every hour, which is a welcome little spiritual breathing space.

Another familiar British artist is represented here, these three tapestries by John Piper. I found it quite difficult to get really good shots inside; it was as if the dark stone absorbed the light and colour.

Rather tickled to see the attention to detail here - behind the High Altar, a sight not often seen - the backs of angels.

I've never seen so much painted stone and wood, especially in the Lady Chapel -

We have, it seems, been a nation of animal lovers for a very long time - many of the great and the good have a companion situated at their feet and it's often a dog of some description.

Albeit sometimes headless.

Just off the Lady Chapel is the Audley Chapel, through which you can just glimpse the superb modern stained class windows made by the great contemporary artist Tom Denny, whose work we have also admired in Gloucester Cathedral, as seen here. It was actually heaving with admirers, despite this snap, so I left it for another day.

What I love about our cathedrals is that they are, on the one hand, vasty deep and magnificent - after all, they were built to be all about power and statement, both politically and religious.

And yet there is also such exquisite detail;

- and in the tiny, confined space of the Stanbury Chapel, dating from the late 1400s, it is almost claustrophobic, as if one were sitting inside a carved seashell.

Finally we wandered down the cloisters, where we noticed the unusual carved wood ceiling supports. And a few cobwebs.

And at the end, a neat pile of odds and ends of salvaged carvings, most of them look medieval or earlier to me. Not that I'm an expert.

I can spot a foliage man head in there...

We didn't look at the famous Mappa Mundi, because it would have cost £6 each and as ever, we are counting our pennies. But we should be living close by one day, so it will be a special treat for the future.

I am aware of how inadequate my photos are, for expressing the sheer magnitude and majesty of this wonderful sacred building, but happily there is an excellent 360 degree virtual tour of Hereford Cathedral, which can be accessed through the left hand menu on their home page here. Full screen recommended.

Thank you Mollie Makes!

I've been subscribed to the gorgeous and uber-trendy 'Mollie Makes' since its launch; I allowed myself a tiny twinge of smugness when issue one sold out within days and began appearing on a certain well known auction site, selling for silly money. The publishers seem to have got the design and content bang on the button with the trend for crafting, vintage and blogging - I look forward to my monthly copy arriving with the same excitement I used to reserve for my weekly and much loved 'Bunty for Girls'

However, knowing what I did, I was even more eager to rip this month's copy from the hands of the terrified Postie (before he could ram it into the letterbox) - allow me, if you will, a little preening - look who is on page ten - look, look look!!! Ooh, are those one or two of my little things featured there?

Talk about headless with excitement.

(Boastfest over, thank you for your indulgence).