printmaking and the fog of living in a global pandemic

i learned a new sort of printmaking this weekend - collography. we used cardboard, rather than copper. i loved the elusive nature of it, though it felt like it took a couple of prints before i got my head around it and obviously i still have much to learn. it's different than linoprints. i also loved that each one only makes one or two prints. there's something appealing about it being a monoprint. i feel intrigued by the fact that there's only one chance.

i have cacti on the brain, so i made two. and i ended up feeling that what i really need is a scalpel that i can draw with. curves are a bit difficult. i also came away feeling that i need a press. you definitely need one that rolls the print through to do these, as just pressing down, like you can get away with on a linoprint, is not possible. there's always more art supplies that you can acquire.

i've been seeing people on instagram that are doing collography using packaging as the base. i took the packaging from my burrata and i really love the result.

having linocut experience, i hollowed out the small spots to make them, forgetting that they'd fill with ink and actually end up black. the instructor said i could cut out small bits of paper and make them be white. i like how that turned out. 

i did a quick last print, just before the end of the day, drawing a small bowl and decorating it with a couple of leaves. i actually made two of this print. i kept it simple, thinking that i'd maybe do some stitching on it or add a bit of my old favorite payne's grey. 

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january seemed so long. like it was the longest january ever. but i made it to today, the last day. it was also the last day of my current job. i reluctantly leave behind my very good colleagues, but i am looking forward to starting something new tomorrow, something that's perhaps a bit more up my alley. i love starting something new and i'm very much looking forward to jumping in with both feet.

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and speaking of never-ending, i've been thinking a lot lately and talking to people about this whole pandemic thing and what it's done to us. i don't think we even know. i just wrote a completely ragey letter to the church where sophia, the twin we lost, is buried. we renew the grave once a year and i somehow missed the first letter about it. so they send a reminder that horribly threatens to dig her up and throw her away. not quite in those words, but not that far from it. and even after 21 years, it upsets me greatly. i feel like i missed that first letter in the fog that has settled upon us with the monotony of the pandemic. tomorrow, all the restrictions are lifted here in denmark and i don't really know what i think about that. three colleagues today announced that they have tested positive and one more was sick as well, though i never heard a test result. i had a negative test yesterday, which i got on a whim because i saw that there was no line at the test center and i was there anyway. so, i've escaped the virus so far, but not the fog that has settled over all of us.

an old friend has been pondering the pandemic as well. read her take here.