From both a curatorial and an art-making standpoint, 2018 so far has been all about completing unfinished projects. This focus is far from coincidental. As I get ready to start a new chapter of my life in Williamsburg, I've felt compelled to revisit some old sketches or concepts and bring them to fruition, as I probably won't look at them again once I move.
This idea has been iterated numerous times in my art projects, beginning with these skull prints I made at the end of 2017. By printing a 2016 drypoint on some unfinished monotypes from 2015, I was able to resolve two unfinished projects in a way that felt satisfying
During the first weeks of 2018, I took this idea one step further when I combined some color block studies with an old silo sketch to make this print:
About a month later, I made another print that paired my color blocks with an intaglio of a sycamore I'd been meaning to make for at least four years:
As I had mentioned in that post, however, I had bigger plans for the intaglio sycamore, which I recently finished in May. In keeping with my interest in the movement of time and the changes that gradually unfold through our daily routines, I wanted to make a series of prints that explored the passage of a year through that most mundane of routines, my daily commute to work.
Over the past five years, I've walked by the same sycamore tree nearly every day, four times a day, at least five days a week. I've seen it in full foliage, in winter's dormancy, and springing leaf buds. I've experienced a spectrum of emotions during these walks, from joy to dread, and the ongoing mental rotation of exhibitions and projects has changed as frequently as the seasons themselves. Despite all this profound and ongoing change, however, the walk has remained more or less the same, and its familiar, comforting route has had a strong grounding presence in my life. Regardless of what may happen, or when, for the last five years I've more or less known exactly how I'm going to get to work, and I wanted to pay homage to that commute.
I decided to do this by making a series of layered prints, not unlike the work I did in Vermont. I began by printing twelve impressions, one for each month of the year, with the intention of painting a different group of colors over them. Like my commute, the sycamore I've observed would be the consistent backdrop to a group of diverse works. Initially I had planned on printing them all in black ink, but after reflecting on the seasonal theme, I decided to print them in four different colors, one for each season. After all, the sycamore may still be there every day, but it too changes subtly throughout the year.
For spring, I printed in brown ink, as the relentless winds at this time of year never fail to blow around all kinds of debris and dirt. This year I even got hit in the eye with it and had to take an antibiotic for almost two weeks.
For summer, I used a pale green ink. Roswell does get green in the summer, but being a relatively arid place, it's not the plush, dense foliage you find back east. It's more spare, so I felt a light sage tone would work better than an emerald hue.
For fall, I used a crimson ink. By the time I was getting to this color, I had already printed in brown and green. While I had washed the plate between colors, there was still a little residue, so the red came out more of a burgundy. I liked it though, again for its subtlety. Roswell can get red foliage, but you don't get the big maple leaves here. Rather, you find it in shrubs and other small plants, so you really have to look for it.
Finally, I printed winter in blue, primarily for symbolic value. Winter in Roswell is mercurial when it comes to temperatures. It could be snowing one day and 70 degrees the next, but everything is still dormant, and I though blue epitomized that quiet quality best.
I ended up liking these prints enough to make a second edition, just so I would have a few impressions of the trees themselves. For this first group, however, I had only just started working, and there was much more to be done.
This idea has been iterated numerous times in my art projects, beginning with these skull prints I made at the end of 2017. By printing a 2016 drypoint on some unfinished monotypes from 2015, I was able to resolve two unfinished projects in a way that felt satisfying
During the first weeks of 2018, I took this idea one step further when I combined some color block studies with an old silo sketch to make this print:
About a month later, I made another print that paired my color blocks with an intaglio of a sycamore I'd been meaning to make for at least four years:
As I had mentioned in that post, however, I had bigger plans for the intaglio sycamore, which I recently finished in May. In keeping with my interest in the movement of time and the changes that gradually unfold through our daily routines, I wanted to make a series of prints that explored the passage of a year through that most mundane of routines, my daily commute to work.
 |
| The tree is right ahead, in front of the truck. |
Over the past five years, I've walked by the same sycamore tree nearly every day, four times a day, at least five days a week. I've seen it in full foliage, in winter's dormancy, and springing leaf buds. I've experienced a spectrum of emotions during these walks, from joy to dread, and the ongoing mental rotation of exhibitions and projects has changed as frequently as the seasons themselves. Despite all this profound and ongoing change, however, the walk has remained more or less the same, and its familiar, comforting route has had a strong grounding presence in my life. Regardless of what may happen, or when, for the last five years I've more or less known exactly how I'm going to get to work, and I wanted to pay homage to that commute.
I decided to do this by making a series of layered prints, not unlike the work I did in Vermont. I began by printing twelve impressions, one for each month of the year, with the intention of painting a different group of colors over them. Like my commute, the sycamore I've observed would be the consistent backdrop to a group of diverse works. Initially I had planned on printing them all in black ink, but after reflecting on the seasonal theme, I decided to print them in four different colors, one for each season. After all, the sycamore may still be there every day, but it too changes subtly throughout the year.
For spring, I printed in brown ink, as the relentless winds at this time of year never fail to blow around all kinds of debris and dirt. This year I even got hit in the eye with it and had to take an antibiotic for almost two weeks.
For summer, I used a pale green ink. Roswell does get green in the summer, but being a relatively arid place, it's not the plush, dense foliage you find back east. It's more spare, so I felt a light sage tone would work better than an emerald hue.
For fall, I used a crimson ink. By the time I was getting to this color, I had already printed in brown and green. While I had washed the plate between colors, there was still a little residue, so the red came out more of a burgundy. I liked it though, again for its subtlety. Roswell can get red foliage, but you don't get the big maple leaves here. Rather, you find it in shrubs and other small plants, so you really have to look for it.
Finally, I printed winter in blue, primarily for symbolic value. Winter in Roswell is mercurial when it comes to temperatures. It could be snowing one day and 70 degrees the next, but everything is still dormant, and I though blue epitomized that quiet quality best.
I ended up liking these prints enough to make a second edition, just so I would have a few impressions of the trees themselves. For this first group, however, I had only just started working, and there was much more to be done.
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