The Ghost of Christmas Past

My life as a (former?) artist haunts me. In the past 6-7 years I have let it slip away. It's been over a decade since I've worked in a darkroom. Writing this right now puts a lump in my throat and tightens my gut.

About six years ago I was invited to see someone's jerry-rigged darkroom here in Albuquerque. There was no ventilation, so the unfiltered smell of the developing chemicals hit me hard when I walked in the door. Before I realized what was happening there were tears running down my cheeks. My host seemed surprised and asked if I was okay. My response was something like, "I'm okay, I guess I didn't realize how much I miss being in a darkroom." He told me I was welcome in his anytime. I never took him up on it.

Eric's mom gave me an Annie Leibovitz book for Christmas. I've seen most of the images in a variety of contexts over the years. But something changes when you look at images on the glossed pages of a book in your own living room. Holding so much life and imagery and history in your own two hands connects you to it in a way that can't be attained from a magazine in a doctor's office, or a snip-it seen somewhere online. I've spent most of this Christmas Day so far looking through the pages of this book again and again; reading the interview with Leibovitz in the foreward of the book. She talks about her work with a voice very similar to how I remember my classmates and I sounding in college in Atlanta, GA during the late 90's.

Art books give me flashbacks. Flashbacks to days spent on the floor with big, gorgeous books in my college library. Days and nights where creativity took over and hours evaporated. Critique classes where conceptual conversations about art and life, and the blur in between, bounced around large rooms with endless windows. Flashbacks to the unknown hours that slipped past while rocking chemical trays in a massive stainless steel darkroom sink.

I want my past life to be tangible again. Tangible like this gorgeous book I've devoted my morning to. Perhaps this is my Christmas gift to myself this year? A revelation to reunite myself with the ghosts of my past.

Printmaking For A Non-Printmaker!

I love printmaking. I love the smell of the ink. The sticky sound the ink makes when you roll it out with the brayer. I especially love relief prints. There's only one thing holding me back from being a "real" printmaker... I can never keep my hands clean.

And so begins this blog. No more excuses about why art no longer has a role in my life. In less than a month I've gone from beating myself up about why I haven't made creativity part of my daily for over 6 years (!!!), to printmaking in my new studio! Lovely.

Here's a peek at what I've been up to this week...

Printed cards drying on my laundry rack.

Sewn details make the handmade-ness more tangible.

Finished cards ready to be sold.

If you're curious... these cards were printed using "scratch foam" as a printing plate. You can get the same effect by drawing on/pressing into a flat styrofoam tray with a ball point pen.

* First, I created drawings and/or text on multiple styrofoam printing plates.

* Second, I squeezed tubes of water based printing ink onto a cookie sheet, spread the ink out evenly with a brayer, then rolled the ink onto the styrofoam plate with said brayer. 

* Next, I laid the inked plate on a piece of card stock, evenly pressed and rubbed the back of the plate, then pulled the plate off of the card stock... VOILA! Gorgeous holiday cards! 

CAUTION: If you try this process, remember to write any text backwards on the styrofoam, thus making your words print legibly. Happy printing!