CMYK Screen Printing Weekend At Leicester Print Workshop

Untitled 4-Colour CMYK Screen Print (Test Piece) On Paper,
200 mm X 146 mm (Actual Image), 2019 

With a lot of time spent laboriously fettling cardboard boxes, fridge doors and abandoned trundle toys, over the last eighteen months - my printmaking excursions have been fairly few and far between.  I made an attempt to rectify that recently, and to reboot my enthusiasm for screen printing in particular - by attending Leicester Print Workshop's two day CMYK-specific training course.  It proved to be a thoroughly enjoyable experience, and has certainly inspired me me to get back into the workshop, now that the blessed school holidays have finally kicked in.

Untitled 2-Colour CMYK Screen Print On Paper (Test Piece),
200 mm X 146 mm (Actual Image), 2019

Untitled 3-Colour CMYK Screen Print On Paper (Test Piece),
200 mm X 146 mm (Actual Image), 2019

Although I'd done a fair bit of screen printing in recent times (prior to 2018's sculpture-orientated, spare time-devouring, energy-sapping endurance test), it had all been either single-colour photographic stuff, or featured the fairly unsophisticated layering of single, flat colours.  There's still plenty that can be achieved that way, of course (and certainly, I'd only scratched the surface of what's possible), but getting to grips with proper, CMYK separations, in order to play with the real potential of full colour, photo-derived imagery, felt like a missing piece of the jigsaw.

Untitled 3-Colour CMYK Screen Print On Paper (Test Piece),
200 mm X 146 mm (Actual Image), 209

Screen printing has always felt like a logical extension of the fact that nearly everything I produce, nowadays has  photographic origins.  Strangely - for someone who can often be pretty dim, or a bit 'analogue', where technology is concerned, the translation of imagery between different media, and the whole embrace of once wholly-commercial processes of image reproduction, feel pretty intrinsic to my process, nowadays.  It probably  has a lot to do with the resolutely urban nature of everything I do, and the way that such imagery contributes to the urban landscape.  Certainly, the insertion of oversized (usually highly idealised) commercial photo-imagery, into an otherwise physical (and possibly less than 'ideal') context, can provide some pretty thrilling shocks to the perceptual system, I find.

Untitled 4-Colour CMYK Screen Print On Paper (Test Piece),
200 mm X 146 (Actual Image), 2019

Untitled 3-Colour CMYK Screen Print On Paper Test Piece),
200 mm X 146 mm (Actual Image), 2019

I'm far from the first to notice all that, of course.  It's been a staple of the Post-Pop sensibility for 60-odd years.  Nevertheless, the interaction between the 'real' and the imagistic remains a key feature of the actual environments in which I spend most of my waking hours.  The appropriated, printed imagery of Warhol or Rauschenberg, the 'stolen' photography of Richard Prince, or Christopher Wool's boundary-hopping slide between paint, photography and print (and back again) all seem like pretty appropriate accompaniments to my daily experience.  Of course, younger artists might scoff at this - pointing out that these are all quite elderly exemplars, and that the physical or printed artefact is itself now 'well-obsolete'.  The integration of secondary imagery (or text) into our routine experience has, after all, become an all-pervasive, virtual process, at this stage of the cultural game.  The effortless negotiation of simultaneous parallel 'realities' is something many folks now take for granted, and hardly worthy of comment.  In which case, sue me! - I'm old enough for some kind of techno-historical perspective to actually make sense.  Also, staring at electronic screens, all day gives me eye strain.  Besides, aren't a bit of 'craft' and a degree of retro-appeal what all the really cool kids crave, these days?

Untitled 4-Colour Screen Print On Paper (Test Piece),
225 mm X 150 mm (Actual Image), 2019

Untitled 4-Colour Screen Print On Paper (Test Piece),
220 mm X 145 mm (Actual Image), 2019

Anyhow, I digress.  LPW's two-day course gave me all the new learning and techno-tricks I needed to make colour separations in Photoshop, and a useful refresher in the fundamentals of screen printing technique, to boot.  I was pleased to find that my muscle memory for things like photo-emulsion application, squeegy angles, and pulling pressure, hadn't deserted me in my recent absence.  I could just concentrate on the things that are crucial to full-colour halftone printing, like precise registration and relative colour density - without having to go all the way back to Square One.  As a result, the prints I produced (whilst they can only be regarded as experimental practice pieces) turned out to be encouragingly successful.  In fact, I've even sold one, without actually trying  (who'd've thunk it?). 

Oh, and if any eagle eyed visitors here should notice that not all my registration was exactly spot-on - I blame an initially loose pair of hinge clamps.  The only sensible course of action was embrace the error, and designate the wonkiest of my early prints as  'experimental', as the cyan and black went on.  That's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it.

All Remaining Images:  Sneinton, Nottingham & West Leicester, January - July 2019

It is worth noting that the image I chose to reproduce was selected from an ever-expanding tranche of recent photographs, concentrating on major construction and redevelopment activity.  There's a lot of that going on in my neck of the Leicester woods, just now - with several major new buildings already nearing completion, and a lot more scheduled to follow over the next few years.  This is all part of the grand plan to redevelop a significant tract of West Leicester, between the inner ring road and my own neighbourhood.  It will transform the riverside area formally known as Blackfriars/St Augustines, and extend into the equally neglected post-industrial Frog Island area beyond - to exactly what effect, only time will tell.  Those particular environs have featured on here, several times, and I'll confess, I'm already slightly mourning the loss of one or two of my old favourite derelict hot-spots. 

But to live in a city is to embrace change and celebrate often-dramatic physical transformation.  If the region is to be transformed from a marginal playground of creeping stasis and desolate reverie, into a sleekly designed and heavily marketed zone of new-found density and intention - so be it.  The changes now unfolding are undeniably exciting - as new structures emerge, and empty sections of the map, and equally vacant intervals in the city's skyline, are suddenly filled in.  My lens already loves the intricate networks of scaffolding, complex geometries of newly-erected steel, jointing patterns in incomplete cladding, and glistening curtains of fresh glass.  The insertion of functional constructors' signage, developers' marketing babble, and aspirant, hyper-real architects' impressions all feel like valuable grist to the mill too.

Certainly, it all feels far too significant to ignore - particularly for an artist who constantly bangs on about being so in tune with their urban surroundings.  If, as seems likely, it all provides fuel for another eventual body of work - perhaps there's no reason why that couldn't be a largely print-orientated enterprise.  As ever - we'll see.  In the meantime, I'll conclude this post with few more taster images - possibly to prime the pump, as it were.

Thanks to Katie, Harley, and all at LPW concerned with organising the CMYK Screen Printing Weekend,  29-30 June, 2019.  I plan to be back soon, to implement some more of my new learning.

Work In Progress: 'This S(c)epic Isle' . 'Fridge Door Paintings' 1

'Fridge Door Painting' (Work In Progress), Acrylics & Mixed Media On 
Salvaged Refrigerator Door, July 2017

I’ve all but given up hoping that 2017 will start feeling less like hard work.  For whatever reason - this year has so far been largely characterised by a lack of urgency and dynamism.  A suitable word to describe the overall sensation might be ‘lacklustre’.  Nevertheless, although my artwork might have slowed a bit, it has remained extant (and relatively steady).  The various ideas and nascent projects I identified at the start of the year all still feel more or less ‘live’ in my own mind, even if I’m forced to acknowledge that there’s only ever time (or energy) to address a small part of it all.  Anyway, the arrival of the blessed educational summer break helps a lot in that respect, so it feels like time for another work-in-progress post.

'Fridge Door Paintings' (Work In Progress), Acrylics & Mixed Media On 
Salvaged Refrigerator Doors, July 2017

As implied above, my current habit is to mentally organise my work (or projected work) into discrete projects, each with its own themes or implied agenda.  It may be an unnecessarily anal approach, but does allow me to prioritise without feeling overwhelmed by all the thought of all the stuff I might (but aren’t) doing at any given time.  For the time being, the main focus remains on my ‘This S(c)eptic Isle’ project [1.].

I’ve already shown some ofthe initial ‘Flag’ pieces belonging to it, and alluded to the extended found text piece which triggered it all in the first place.  Undoubtedly, the initial stimulus for the project was my feelings of disillusionment/bafflement/anger around the E.U. referendum, and the wider contexts of rising Nationalism, ignorance, division and misguided or pernicious agendas swirling around it.  However, whichever side of that particular fence one falls on, it feels more like a symptom of a much wider psycho-sociological situation, than just the single, identifiable cause of all our current ills.  In reality, technological acceleration, the joined-up nature of our digital age, the logics of Capitalism and trade, and an increasingly insecure environment, all make the fraught negotiation between the global and the parochial feel like an inescapable theme of the century.

'Fridge Door Painting' (Work In Progress), Acrylics & Mixed Media On 
Salvaged Refrigerator Door, July 2017

In my mind at least, ‘This S(c)eptic Isle’ is evolving into a kind of wider address on the current ‘state of things’, with a very clear parochial connect – but hopefully with a strand of implied self-critique of such localism built-in.  Perhaps a more apt descriptor would be ‘The State Of Things (Round Our Way)’ [2.].  With my local hat firmly screwed down, it’s perhaps worth noting that the neighbourhood I inhabit provides plenty of raw material for all this - being a once-productive tract of ‘working class’, inner city habitation.  It now presents as a relatively down-at-heel mélange, comprising lingering vestiges of that older population; immigrants from several continents; white-van tradesmen; gig-workers; low-paid carers and public sector workers; the opportunistic; the ‘Just About Managing’; and the Grimly Hanging On.  It’s neither wasteland or conflict zone as such, but is certainly sufficiently frayed and torn to reflect many of the societal tensions or challenges of 21st Century Britain.

It also provides the resonant motifs around which ‘TSI’ is increasingly coalescing.  If my early adoption of (and visual violence to) the flag motif is a pretty blunt, (and possibly trite) instrument, some of the others feel a little more potentially nuanced. It’s my hope that they might tend slightly more to the allusive than the merely polemical.  The current list would include: discarded white goods (particularly refrigerators), furnishings and household goods; abandoned children’s toys; cardboard boxes (and street trash generally), white vans (certain other colours are permissible); the empty silver capsules of laughing gas enthusiasts; and (a possible new addition, this -) mopeds.  Each is in plentiful supply, and a short walk round the block with the camera, on any given day, will generally throw up new examples.

Each category feels feels freighted with potential associations, and totemic of the way we live.  The common themes of refuse, ‘street-disposal’, and of stuff being discarded generally, can’t really be ignored.  Whether this reflects a sense of disenfranchised populations, lost generations, discarded values, voracious consumerism, or disposable and low-grade aspirations – I’ll leave open to interpretation.  More optimistic spectators might also see evidence of a still (partially) functioning society, in which the local council will (eventually) send a street sweeper or a truck to remove some of the pavement debris, or a scrap-merchant might do the same, in the hope of lucrative recycling (and with slightly greater alacrity).

West Leicester, July 2017

Most specifically, the images here all relate to discarded fridges, and the fact that photographing them quickly led to the realisation I might salvage their doors to act as actual painting supports.  If more interpretive clues where to be offered, they might include ideas about ‘preservation’ generally; about fluctuating occupancy and the provision of ‘mod cons’ and ‘affordable’ accommodation; reluctance or inability to pay the costs of appropriate disposal, insights into the way we eat (or ‘Just Eat’); or even some perceived ambiguity in the term, ‘White Goods’. 

West Leicester, May 2017

West Leicester, July 2017

Anyway, If Jasper Johns is a pretty obvious influence on the early flags, and Robert Rauschenberg – on the idea of street trash, generally, Richard Prince’s repurposed car hoods body panels and van doors should be acknowledged in connection with the fridge doors.  The obvious difference however, is that I choose to treat them more as image-carriers, rather than as wholly sculptural entities - as he has.  Either way, the last few weeks have seen me periodically amassing a small collection of them, before stripping away the unwanted interior elements, and renovating/prepping/priming the exterior surfaces.  With the arrival of the school holidays, I’m finally able to get on with resolving the actual imagery they will carry.

Sketchbook Pages, May - June 2017

Have I been unconsciously delaying the arrival of this stage? – I now ask myself.  It’s noticable that my recent return to working fairly diligently in a sketchbook (something I’d essentially ignored for a couple of years, of late) has somewhat slowed my progress – even as it proves invaluable in ordering my thoughts and considering my options.  It is, I’m convinced, a ‘grown-up’ way to develop ideas and imagery.  However, I also realise that using it to generate well-resolved images, for faithful transcription as larger, final pieces, is no longer really the most rewarding way to work.  If the sketchbook documents my internal monologue, the actual work flows better when many of the final judgments are reserved.  These days, the most meaningful resolutions feel like they’re achieved through chance events and the accumulation of happy accidents, and within the arena of an actual piece [3.].  Those breakthroughs feel more exciting – and are definitely stumbled upon more spontaneously (and rapidly).

Sketchbook Pages, June 2017

Could all this also be why many artists remain taciturn when asked what their work is about, or what it ‘means’?  Regardless of the interpretive hints above, it’s often all this procedural stuff that really comes to fill our heads.  Sometimes it simply means, “Finally, I’ve managed to arrive at something I could bear to stick on the wall – I wonder how, exactly”.  I’m not even at that stage with these.  For now it’s simply a case of , “Oh, these feel reasonably encouraging – I think I can imagine what I might do to complete them.”  We’ll see…

West Leicester, May 2017

[1.]:  This whole internal wrangle over how to word/spell this title continues, even though I thought I’d sorted it in my own mind. (Told you nothing feels easy this year).  Spotting the difference between British and American spellings of ‘Sceptic’/’Skeptic’ is all well and good, but doesn’t excuse the illiterate assumption that ‘Sceptic’ and ‘Septic’ are both spelled the same way.  So, the brackets are back, and now it’s ‘S(c)eptic’.  Am I just trying too hard with all these word games?

[2.]:  Again with the blinkin’ brackets!

[3.]:  And so - despite any professed aspirations to a greater element of conceptualism in my work, it seems that, in this respect, my natural inclination is more towards the organic, intuitive approach of painting.  You can drive yourself mad debating such stuff.  In the end, it’s better to just get on with being whatever kind of artist you can be – instead of mithering about what you think you should be. 

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'Faster, Faster', (Shifting Gear).

Willys Dragster

I’m conscious there haven’t been too many posts on here about my own artwork for a while.  Although work continues, progress has been slow and I’ve been feeling a bit bogged down and uninspired generally, not just in terms of my art, for a few weeks now.  The school Summer holidays are here now, bringing the luxury of unbroken, usable time, but I’ve decided to shake things up by deliberately doing some non, (or only tangentially) art-related stuff with my Summer alongside the obvious attempts to get on with the painting.

1957 Chevrolet Bel Air, Gasser Dragster

I wasted a lot of last year’s holiday really, then felt frustrated afterwards, so this year my intention is to avoid getting too intense about it all again by leavening the mix of my activities generally.  Whilst individual pieces can always cause dissatisfaction, I’m not too unhappy with the general thrust of my work, so the theory is that, if I’m feeling a little more stimulated and mentally refreshed overall, the painting will start to inspire me a bit more too.  Thinking about it, it may not even be the root problem at all.

The Finish Line

Thus, I found myself at Santa Pod Raceway in Northamptonshire to watch some Drag Racing the other day, - something that’s well outside my comfort zone of customary activities, and all the more enjoyable for that very reason.  So why am I telling you about it?  I guess, because it just reveals that, however deliberately outside the gallery or ‘studio’ I may put myself, I always end up experiencing most things through the filter of sensory stimuli, and relishing the essential strangeness and excitement of a new situation as an abstract mélange of sights, sounds, smells, and related sensations.  Essentially, that’s where being an artist really starts for me, and I love the fact that I can see pretty much anything in those terms, whatever category of activity or scale of spectacle it may represent.

Funny Car Dragster Supercharger

Willys Dragster Supercharger

Anyway, enough philosophy.  Regular readers will have noticed that, whilst hardly a petrol head, (just the opposite in many respects), I have a vestigial interest in slightly unusual vehicles, inherited from my late father’s love of all things mechanical, and vintage vehicles in particular.  This inevitably rubbed off on me, and often being drawn to the alternative or extreme, my particular adolescent enthusiasm was for hot rods and dragsters.  My interest centred far more on the aesthetics of it all than on the nuts and bolts, and the bizarre stylistic conventions of that scene allowed my imagination full range.  All this coincided with the 1970’s, - a period when it seemed perfectly natural to build a car that resembled a cartoon as much as possible, (it’s kitsch on wheels, essentially).  ‘Whacky Races’, Hot Wheels toys, Revel model kits and ‘Custom Car’ magazine were very much part of the zeitgeist for me at an impressionable age.

1932 Ford Tudor Sedan With Period Trailer.

1956 Chevrolet Bel Air

As another birthday approaches, and I move deeper into my fifties, I’ve started to list things that I’ve meant to do but just never got round to.  I think of it more as a ‘walking stick list’ than a ‘bucket list’, but either way it’s just a reminder to myself to avoid excessive routine and to keep enjoying new experiences while they’re still achievable.  Going to the drag racing, for old time’s sake if nothing else, was an easily realised item, and I enjoyed every minute.  The event in question was Santa Pod’s annual ‘Dragstalgia’ weekend, when older vehicles on the scene come together to recapture something of the 70’s golden age, (not just for me then, it seems).  When I realised that the venue was only just over an hour’s drive away, it seemed too good an opportunity to miss.  The fact that several of the drivers piloting their potential death traps down the strip were apparently of pensionable age helped to put my list into context too.  You can pay for a ride in a two-seater dragster at Santa Pod, - I wonder…?

Slingshot Dragster Reversing On To Start Line

For those unfamiliar with the sport, Dragster Racing involves accelerating ludicrously over-powered cars in a straight line, traditionally for a quarter-mile, in as short a time as possible.  Whilst two hopefully well-matched cars race alongside each other, the real competition is against the clock, with vehicles in a particular class returning to the strip repeatedly on an elimination basis, until the fastest is decided upon.  Competition classes relate to differing technical specs and the fuel used, (Methanol and Nitro Methane generally yielding higher performance than straightforward Gasoline).

Slingshot Dragster Reversing On To Start Line

The cars vary from the narrow, elongated and purely functional ‘slingshot’ or ‘rail’ forms, through bizarre, distorted mutations of something vaguely recognisable as a traditional car, to those not too far removed from regular production vehicles, (often termed ‘Door Slammers’).  There’s an appreciation of the retro and the incongruous, and flamboyant paint jobs, featuring flames, stripes and lurid signwriting, are de rigeur.  Rear wheels are massive, whilst front wheels can be minimal, (handling’s not really the issue here).  The preferred power source is a massively over-tuned American V8 engine, with short, open exhausts, and possibly, a huge supercharger with gaping air intake, mounted on top.  Ideally, the reimagined engine should be exposed, or too large for any bodywork to enclose, resulting in a very public display of ‘mines bigger than yours’ machismo.

Competition Altered Dragster, All The Way From Germany

Funny Car Dragster

If this all sounds pretty juvenile, I’d say yes, - gloriously so.  There’s a kind of cheerful numbscullery about the attempt to squeeze almost unimaginable amounts of power from relatively traditional technology, to the point where steering the thing in a straight line for a few seconds is a major achievement.  American automotive engineering is traditionally about ironmongery and sheer muscle as much as sophistication or anything distracting, like turning corners.  Drag racing is, I guess, the epitome of that.

1960s Slingshot Dragster Engine

Reason has very little to do with it and spectacle is all.  The deafening racket and seismic impact of an unsilenced, high-revving V8 must be experienced to be believed, and flaming exhausts and massive clouds of smoke are routine.  The wheel spinning ‘burnouts’ undertaken to soften tires for improved traction are an important part of the ritual and acquire an added dimension when performed in deliberately ignited puddles of petrol!  There can be no justification for any of this on environmental grounds, of course, but the carbon footprint of a season’s racing in the name of a little entertaining release, is probably a fraction of that, globally, of routine air travel or the reluctant daily commute.

1939 Ford Pickup

Two Willys Hoods With Air Intakes

Watching a seemingly endless procession of vehicles, each running in a straight line for a few seconds, might sound like it would quickly lose its novelty, but I found it enduringly entertaining and strangely hypnotic.  Without a long lens, and with many vehicles achieving speeds nearing 200 mph, I found it hard to capture the action very well in my photos, but luckily, there are already several YouTube videos giving a better impression of the specific event.

In fact, my best images from the day were collected whilst walking amongst the competitors’ pits and the Hot Rods and Custom Cars in the ‘Show & Shine’ display.  I’ve mentioned before, my fascination with the aesthetic mannerisms and attention to detail exhibited in such vehicles, and many such styles were represented, from artfully contrived junk-yard chic, to the sleek, contemporary contours of a shimmering tangerine 34 Ford Coupe.

VW Microbus Rat Rod

Rat Rod Pickup

1957 Chevrolet Bel Air & 1939 Ford Pickups

1934 Ford Coupe

1959 Cadilliac Eldorado Tail Fins

What really cheered me most about the day was probably the laid-back, communal atmosphere of the whole event.  It was pleasingly possible to explore the pit area and examine at close quarters the very vehicles that had been breathing fire and making the earth shake just minutes earlier.  There’s something thrilling about stepping to one side to allow a crackling, polychromatic monster, capable of releasing horsepower in the thousands, to casually trundle past.

1956 Chevrolet Bel Air, Rat Gasser Dragster

1932 Ford Model B Roadster

A grounded blue-collar vibe prevailed, with none of the exclusivity and restricted access one would expect at many sporting events. The small encampments around each vehicle were as much relaxed family gathering as intense racing team.  The cars often undergo extensive mechanical re-fettling between runs, but as many people were simply hanging out and amiably shooting the breeze, as wielding spanners.  I often enjoy witnessing the tribal rituals of a particular subculture and, on limited acquaintance; I’d say the Nostalgia Drag Racing fraternity resembles a cheery, generous-spirited constituency.  Certainly, I was struck by the contrast between their down to earth demeanour, and the power-worship and potentially life-threatening feats being performed just metres away.

'Gas Attack', Ford Anglia Dragster

My few hours at the Drags were a world away from my regular beat of galleries and solitary artistic activity, and all the more refreshing for that.  In reality, of course, the kitsch tropes and Rock ‘n’ Roll aspects of Hot Rod culture have intrigued plenty of Pop and post-Pop artists over the years.  I’m left with memories of painted flames, burning rubber, (and a distinct ringing in the ears); but also with thoughts of Richard Prince’s found Muscle Car body sculptures, the Pop Paintings of Peter Phillips and the auto-fetishistic Photorealism of Peter Maier.  Mostly though, I’m left with the pleasure of having witnessed something taken to excess for the sheer fun of it.

Richard Prince, 'Second Place (Oak Hill, Preston Hollow, Canal Zone,
Haight-Ashbury)', GRP, Body Filler, Acrylic, Plywood, 2003-04

Peter Phillips, 'Art-O-Matic Cudacutie', Oil On Canvas, 1972

Peter Maier, 'Jaws', DuPont Cromax AT On Aluminium, 2009-10