'Constructed City' 6: Blueprints

All Images: Leicester Print Workshop, November 2019

My visits to Leicester Print Workshop have settled into a reasonably consistent routine, as my 'Constructed City' project progresses.  With any creative undertaking, a certain rhythm of working generally establishes itself, and it's no different in this case.  At present, and by necessity, my current periods of actual production, at LPW, follow a weekly (or possibly - fortnightly) cycle.  Any available time in between is devoted to the on-going collection of source imagery, work in the sketchbook, or attempts to plan my next move - once the meter's running back at the workshop.

This is an unaccustomed situation for me - not least because it's the first time I've relocated my activities off-site, as it were (in my case - simply out of the back bedroom).  As ever - there are identifiable pros and cons.  Undeniably, it can be a little frustrating to wait at least six days between each burst of real production.  However, in a year when the demands of my day job have, if anything, intensified; when other concerns and distractions have vied for my attention; and when physical energy reserves have noticeably failed to restore themselves to pre 2018 levels - a degree of structured routine has actually proved rather useful.

The need to get my rear end in gear, and to seize those available windows of opportunity, lends a degree of discipline to the enterprise - making weekend laziness or undue procrastination, unfeasible.  Similarly, paying for that valuable time by the hour, spurs me into having some kind of reasonably considered plan of action in mind (regarding how to start, at least), once I walk through the door.  Those midweek periods of preparation and reflection start to become far more important than might at first appear.

But, as it turns out - a kind of recognisable push and pull [1.] is starting to apply itself internally to those studio hours also.  In this case, the routine begins with my going in with 
that aforementioned plan of action, proceeding with it, in a possibly over-meticulous or tentative fashion, and (almost inevitably) feeling somewhat underwhelmed with the result.  However, with a determination to salvage something from the day, and following some frenetic washing down, or swapping-out of screens - I'll then work with greater degrees of improvisation and intuition, and usually make greater seeming progress in a hour, than I'd made in the previous three.  Often, this will involve imposing something over the top of a recent layer with far less care and attention than it was itself laid down, but with much greater resultant satisfaction.

In this respect, and for the time being, at least - it seems my printmaking M.O. is pretty similar to that which I exhibit as a painter (or whatever else I am, when producing other 2D work).  In musical terms - some form of score seems really important, exactly up until the point it gets discarded, and the improvised sax solo begins.  And to paraphrase someone far more accomplished than I - creation results from a series of destructions [2.].  If that means I'm unlikely to start producing seamless editions of technically immaculate and inherently marketable prints, anytime soon - well, I can live with that.

Certainly, the above certainly describes the experience of my two most recent studio sessions.  A week ago, I went in with the express intention of addressing the problems I described in my most recent printmaking-related post.  In this case, the plan was to augment a problematic white layer, with denser and more arbitrary passages of the same.  The hope was to 'make it look like I meant it', in essence.  Sadly, the results continued to feel stilted and generally disappointing.  Instead, I turned impulsively to another pile of images, grabbed alternative screens, and laid down a couple of layers of rapidly-mixed blues - which ultimately felt far more fluent and promising.

And the yellow and white ones?  As I secretly suspected would happen all along - they got hacked up, and temporarily reassembled, in the week.  As component parts of something with greater elements of chance or surprise involved once more - they already make far more sense again.  Am I a proper printmaker, painter (or even, sculptor)? - Nah, mate - I is a collagist, innit?




[1.]:  See what I've done there - screen print fans?

[2.]:  Is that Picasso? - it's usually Picasso. Cue also, all sorts of cliched truisms about abandoning comfort zones, killing one's darlings, it always seeming darkest just before the dawn, etc, etc.