Tony Linde

Long time since I last posted here. I have done various bits of work myself and attended two courses at Leicester Print Workshop (one on Mezzotint ad one on Collagraphs), all of which I ought to have blogged about but simply haven’t got around to it. I will try to do better from now on.

Major workload for the past couple of months has been preparing for the Surface Gallery Volunteers show. Those who volunteer at the gallery get an opportunity to show off their own work during an annual exhibition. The range of talents amongst the volunteers is huge and, as 17 of us are showing work, this ought to be a really great show. Many thanks to Colette Griffin and the Exhibitions team for organising it all.

When I found out about the opportunity, I figured I’d show a few of the prints I’ve produced over the past few months. Then the team suggested a theme for the show: Testing Ground (see the website for more on this). I decided to take up this challenge and work out a mode of painting that suited me. I knew that it would have to be abstract painting: I’m really not into anything figurative.

I began with the idea of exploring my own location — here, in Kegworth, in the East Midlands. I looked at where I live using Google maps satellite images and the surrounding area, translated these into abstract shapes and marked out these shapes using acrylic pens then filled in the shapes using acrylic paint. This was interesting but just too forced. I then used torn and cut pictures from magazines collaged onto the paper, drew around them in pen and then painted over and around these — still too ‘realistic’.

The approach that did seem to produce results I could be satisfied with was to layer and build up the torn and cut out shapes into a sort of abstract collage and then work over them with paint so that the colours and shapes painted would work with and against the underlying shapes. I had moved from following the ‘sense of location’ idea into what I hoped was a pure abstract approach. I expected that I needed to work from the idea in the first place but also needed to abandon it.

I was really enjoying the challenge of painting abstracts: it really felt as though this was the way I needed to work (in painting, at least).The above are the first two of the paintings that I produced that I thought worth keeping. #1, on the left (I’m not going to try naming the paintings), was a matter of adding colours and shapes over the collaged pieces, building it all up, until the painting seemed to come together. The same approach with #2 didn’t work. I’d tried a looser approach to the painted shapes and it wasn’t cohering. In the end, I painted over a couple of areas with yellow and scraped parts of that back and over other parts of the painting and, with a couple more scraped shapes, it suddenly made sense (well, it did to me: I have no idea what anyone else will make of any of this stuff).

I then came under the influence of some real abstract artists, attending the wonderful The Indiscipline of Painting at Warwick Arts Centre Mead Gallery. I was especially taken by the Karin Davie piece, Symptomania no. 7, 2008. I wanted to try and create something similar. I started from the same type of collaged shapes, geometric ones overpainted in red in #3, on the left, and torn, organic shapes overpainted in green in #4. With #3, I then tried overpainting using brush strokes but could not get the same flow of paint that Davie achieves. Maybe it is acrylic vs oil but more likely it is her years of experience and brilliance. I continued adding layers of different coloured swirls but it really did look rubbish. I then returned to my usual approach of painting colours and shapes over the piece until it came together into something I could stop messing with.

The second attempt at this, #4, on the right above, I tried using card to scrape coloured swirls over the underpainting and shapes. This produced a better looking painting but still not one I was happy with. There was no depth to the painting. In the end I loaded a larger piece of card with multiple colours and scraped this over the painting. I liked the effect this made, especially where the card ran over ridges from the collaged shapes. This produced a texture that I thought worth keeping.

In the end, I wasn’t totally happy with these two paintings; maybe because they were so different from what I intended. I nearly left them out of the exhibition but the two guys at the gallery who helped me hang them actually picked these out as their favourites. Que sera.

With the next two paintings, I took a more linear, structured approach. #5, on the left above, was an attempt to play with the approach I’d been taking so far. Instead of collaging shapes onto the paper, I drew them on using acrylic ink pens, having first masked out a grid of rectangles (the grid may hark back to my obsession with the Kandinsky circles; see here and here).

I then brushed over these rectangles with acrylic. I loved the way the different colours interact with the ink. I tried to get a range of brush stroking going along with the different colours used, trying to balance them out. I’m pretty happy with the result. One day, I want to go back to this approach and explore some other combinations of inked shapes, colours and brush strokes but, for this series, I wanted to push on to another approach.

This time, with #6 on the right above, I painted the paper in a lime green, to give a clean starting base. Over this I laid a set of masking lines to create set shapes. I then painted swirls of umber and ochre over it all, and peeled back the masking lines. I then applied a different set of masking lines and used card with several colours on it to drag over the painting. It was okay but still not working as well as I wanted it to.

I’d been making some notes about my working practices and thought processes during this project (not as much as I’d intended from the start – what a surprise). Re-reading these brought back the ‘sense of location’ ideas I’d had at the beginning and I started thinking about how landscapes are appropriated and abused, how people will take areas of virgin land because it is clean and new and then mess it up to conform to their own idea of what a nice piece of land should be. That gave me the idea of how to bring the last painting together: I masked out some simple squares over those parts of the painting that still had ‘virgin’ green underpainting and blanked those parts out with white paint. This made the painting work for me.

Anyway, that is it for my works being shown in the exhibition. The idea of the exhibition is that we should continue to work and add to our pieces during the exhibition. I’m not sure whether I’ll do that as I’d marked April down as my poetry writing month. If I do add to my work, it will probably be in the form of collagraphs, but who knows.

I hope you can get to the Surface Gallery to see the show sometime. The Private View is tomorrow night, 6-8pm; all welcome. I’ll take my camera along with me tomorrow night and post about the show afterwards.

I decided to enter some work into the Surface Gallery Postcard show and have been working on ideas for a couple of months now. I’m going to submit the ‘Caliban’ print that I prepared for Laine at the Leicester Print Workshop (see previous post). I also prepared a set of collagraphs at LPW and have been working on some monotypes over the holiday period.

Now I just have to choose three from the following set of nine.

Decision, decisions! I know, I’ll get wife & daughter to choose

The following is an automated post…

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 3,900 times in 2011. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 3 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Have got behind on my blog postings recently. There are two or three printmaking sessions I need to cover but, just to fill in, I thought I’d post a couple more iPad paintings. As before, these are done with the ArtRage app. I love the way it blends paint as in real painting. I’ve not painted in oils before so don’t know how accurate it is but the colour muddying produces some great effects.

First painting is an abstract from a seascape photograph I found somewhere and downloaded:

I like the blue/pink/yellow effect in the top half of the image and the rust effect on the lower right. The swirls in the bottom middle — taken from where, in the photograph, the sea washes against the pier — are less effective. The marks themselves don’t fit, they unbalance the mark making in the rest of the image. Might try erasing that part of the image and see if it is possible to repaint — like scraping back a real painting. Or, maybe just take the lessons forward and have another go at a similar image. I did do a second, darker, one but it was even worse. What would be useful in ArtRage is a notepad alongside each work where you can record thoughts as you go along.

Today, I wanted to mess around with more muddied colours, so had a go at the good old circle again — one only this time instead of a grid of them.

I really like this one. The brush marks, the textures, the blurring and muddying of the colours. I like the balance of the colours as well. Maybe I should stick to painting abstract circles

I wonder how this would work as a collagraph. Hmm…

I still don’t ‘get’ life drawing. Yes, I know that ten hours is not going to make anyone proficient in anything. But, I seem to be struggling with drawing in itself. I don’t know if it is just that I find the struggle with proportion a little pointless in these days when a camera can capture it all for you instantaneously, after which you can simply take the photograph as a starting point for the actual art. Do I want to learn how to capture exactly what I see without any aid but my thumb? I’m more interested in translating what I see into what I want to represent but am bogged down in the basics. Maybe it is just that, at my age, I don’t really want to spend the next ten years learning the basics.

I still have one more five-session course and a weekend one early next year at Embrace Arts so we’ll see whether anything ‘clicks’. What I would like to learn from these courses is how to model form correctly. Maybe I should start practising this with still life compositions, but focusing on just parts of the composition without worrying about the whole. Maybe even start from photographs of a composition, line drawn on the iPad and printed and ruled up.

Anyway, back to the life drawing. Weeks 3 and 4 were pretty disastrous. We had a male model for those two weeks: I hope he never sees this post as he certainly wouldn’t recognise himself. I’m not great at drawing the female form but am really crap at the male form.

As always, 90% of my time is spent in just getting the proportions roughly right, so these are little better than line drawings. I was hoping to do better the next week, but no such luck! Diane had us try blue pastel on black paper for a change:

Can’t say that was a success. The last, longer, pose was a little more successful in terms of getting the proportions right.

but the problem is that the whole thing looks wrong with such a complicated pose without proper modelling of the forms. Aargghhh!

Week 5 saw our female model return. I still had to spend all too long on getting proportions right, but at least she looks (reasonably) human!

I think this last drawing is probably my most successful (phew!). I’d been able to capture some of the negative spaces correctly and was much better at sizing up using the head as the basis for all other measurements — something I’d not been able to do before.

Anyway, that is it for 2011 life drawing. I found a website with posed models and have created a couple of iPad line sketches from them. I may try, over the xmas break, to work on modelling form better. We’ll see.

The artist in residence at Leicester Print Workshop, Laine Tomkinson, is working on a project around Shakespeare’s The Tempest. She asked members of LPW to contribute images printed from 6″x4″ linocuts. After dithering about whether someone at my level of expertise ought to contribute, I eventually took a piece of lino home to work on.

I had a number of thoughts about the tempest itself and then about the feast but, on reading through the play, was struck by the stage direction at the beginning of II.2: [Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard].

My study of Shakespeare at school predated the arrival of feminist, post-colonial, psychoanalytic, etc reading of texts. But I’d read a lot of such analyses since and decided to produce a more sympathetic image of Caliban than would normally issue from a straight reading of the play.

Caliban lives on an island on which Prospero, a European intellectual, and his daughter, Miranda, are marooned. Prospero promptly enslaves Caliban, forcing him to do his bidding using his ‘magical’ powers, torturing him if he disobeys. Most of this is explicitly stated, though with the explanation that such treatment is justified because Caliban is a savage (read, non-European).

I wanted to make an image that made this slavery explicit. I drew some ideas on the iPad using ArtRage (my main art program on the iPad now) based on images found on the internet and out of books. Since the final image would be b&w, I loaded ArtRage with a black canvas and drew using a white pen. I exported this image, printed it as 6×4 and then traced the image onto the linocut using Tracedown White. After a couple of proofing prints, I found the right pressure on the hydraulic press and left the block with Laine to work with.

I also printed one fair copy for myself on nice paper:

The cut has a few problems — the lines on the face are too fine to reproduce easily. The pressure has to be just right. And the mouth did not work properly — bit too big. But not too bad for my third or fourth linocut.

I’m thinking of placing this in the Surface Gallery Postcard Show next year, if I can think of two more images to produce. We’ll see if anyone thinks it is worth £15

Although my preference is more for abstract art than figurative, I still think it’s useful to be able to draw properly. After quite some effort, I can usually essay a reasonable likeness of what is in front of me, but am pretty dire at the human figure. So, I signed up to a couple of five week Life Drawing classes at Embrace Arts, the arts centre of the University of Leicester. The one that I am on now is ‘Life drawing: catching vitality‘ with tutor Diane Hall.

Week 1

I was somewhat nervous starting out. Mainly that my attempts would be ludicrous and everyone else would be producing much better work. I confided this in Diane beforehand and she reassured me that I was not the only beginner artist. I was still worried.

The class was a lot bigger than I thought it’d be – 16 of us, in all, plus one medical student doing an elective that involved attending the first few classes. The room was large enough to accommodate us all. 16 easels circling the centre where the model would pose.

We were asked to use charcoal for the first class. The model posed for half an hour as we tried to capture a likeness. I really floundered at this, trying over and over to get the proportions right. In the end, I had more erased than drawn. The model then took up the same pose after turning 90° to the left. I did better with this second pose although the upper body looks too narrow and the emphasis on the two legs is the wrong way around: at least this one looks like a human female!

After a break to give the model a rest (I don’t know how she does it), we started in on the third pose, again a quarter turn to the left. This one looks a little square and the lines are too same-ish. With the fourth drawing, I over compensated, I think, and made every line stand out. The proportions are better but the back leg doesn’t look as if it belongs to her. I gave up on trying to get the face right: I might have to resign myself to drawing people from the back! And with them wearing mittens and socks

I was quite pleased at the end of the evening. I had managed to produce some reasonable sketches in the time although I clearly had a long way to go. The worst part, though, was the screaming agony in my neck and shoulder. I’ve always had problems there and have learned to compensate by not holding my arm outstretched for too long. This does not work when you have a limited time to draw a pose. For the last drawing, I was holding and rubbing my right shoulder with my left hand while trying to draw and snatching my arm down every few seconds: the model must have thought me a real wuss.

Week 2

We began this week with the model walking around, moving her arms, changing body posture. I wasn’t at all sure what we were meant to do. The guys either side of me managed to draw poses out of the movement but I couldn’t even see how to do this. So, all I did was try to capture a few lines. Not a success. I don’t even think I got enough to turn it into an abstract and there really is no sense of movement there. We were given bundles of charcoal to use in drawing – three or four sticks taped together. I enjoyed using this: it produced some nicely textured lines.

After this session, the model held a pose for a short while. I used the bundle of sticks again for this drawing and tried to get a sense of dynamism into the drawing. I’m not sure I succeeded at that. It does look more ‘alive’ than those of the previous week with a better use of shading, and the proportions are better but the arm shapes don’t work and the legs are wrongly emphasised. Diane suggested that I needed to get more of a mixture of light and shade into the lines and I tried to take that on board for the final pose.

The last pose was a long one. She held it for about ten minus before the break and then the whole time after the break so we had plenty of time to work on our drawings. I did manage to get more variation into the lines this time, trying to thin the lines out where they were lighted and darken them where they were in shadow. I also made more use of shading, rubbing texture into the drawing with my fingers.

I know the drawing looks ‘wrong’ but, at the time, I couldn’t see how to fix it. Her right arm was bent inwards and tucked into her body with her weight leaning back on it and I feel I got the lines in the right place but the drawing doesn’t suggest that at all. It looks as though that arm is bent outwards and drawn badly. I didn’t get time to ask Diane how it might be made to look right – one of the problems of being in such a large class.

My neck and shoulder were in agony again. I’m going to have to find some strengthening exercises, some avoidance techniques or get a jab of cortisone before every class! Still, I was happy with what I’d produced and am looking forward to next week.

I spent yesterday at a wonderfully enjoyable workshop – Introduction to Letterpress –  run by Sat Kalsi at the Leicester Print Workshop. The day itself was very well organised and expertly run. Sat is a great teacher: knowledgeable, helpful and always encouraging. But she must have been exhausted by the end of the day.

We began with an introduction of how to set metal type using a composing stick. Sat had set out a number of type cases of different sizes, from 18pt to 36pt. I gravitated to an 18pt case as I had come prepared with some longish texts. I’d asked my wife and daughter for some texts that they might like set in addition to the Donne poem I was taking, The Sun Rising. Maggie chose Shakespeare‘s Sonnet 116 while Vick gave me some favourite extracts and poems.

It was obvious that I needed to choose the shortest piece to set and so began on the sonnet. Sat looked at the poem and recommended that I count the number of e’s and a’s in it to see if there was enough in the tray – there wasn’t, so she fetched me another tray, 18pt Garamond.

The composing stick has a sliding end which is set to the maximum length needed for the whole text, in multiples of 6pt, and is left there for the whole page. So, I first set the longest line of the sonnet, the line beginning ‘Whose worth’s unknown…’. This took a long time. The type was set out in an ‘Improved Double Case‘ (though a few of my letters were in slightly different places), so each letter was a matter of hunt and pick using the layout sheet provided. Unfortunately, a lot of the letters had been previously replaced in the wrong slots so I had to check each letter as I took it out.

It turned out I needed a 36pt line length. I wasn’t going to reset that line again so placed a spacer underneath it and began on the first line.

When one of us had enough lines ready to take off the stick, Sat showed us how to remove the lines from the stick and slide them onto the galley tray (a metal tray with raised edges). I did this in sets of four lines. The composing stick got incredibly heavy. It is held, resting on the left arm with the thumb of the left hand holding the last placed type in place. Since all the type is cast in lead, you can imagine what a six inch by 2 inch lump of lead feels like resting on your hand and arm all day long!

This is a shot of the first eight lines of the sonnet in the galley tray. Each line has spacers at the end so that the letters are held quite tight and magnets (very powerful magnets – they take quite some effort to shift).

After the lines are taken off the composing stick onto the press, a proof is taken to check for mistakes. Sat rolled out some black ink (the same as for linocuts and other relief printing work) and showed us how to roll it onto the type. The whole galley tray is then taken to the Galley Press (a simple roller on guides) and a proof taken. Any mistakes then have to be corrected. This was not easy for someone with my clumsy fingers – I could have done with a pair of tweezers but I guess they aren’t used as they’d damage the lead type. Luckily, as my tray had so many letters in the wrong place, I’d been closely checking my work as I went along so only had about four mistakes in the whole text, e.g.:

By the time I’d set the whole poem, my back was killing me. Standing up, leaning over a desk all day is not fun. I’d got used to hunting out the letters so was able to sit down towards the end, but was still very sore.

Sat hunted out a nice gothic-style face, 18pt Light English Text, for me to use on the title for the poem and I set that and proofed it.

Setting such a longish text took me a long time. Others on the workshop set more sensible length texts and were able to do more than one. A couple of people moved on to setting wooden type to make sizeable posters. Another woman had brought some paper onto which she had painted a few colours and printed onto that – it looked great.

After checking the proof, I transferred the text to a chase – a heavy metal frame which takes your text block and uses quoins and other furniture to lock it into place in a much more stable way than with the magnets in the galley tray. I then used this on the Britannia Press to print onto stock paper:

This is my second-best printing. The best one went to Maggie.

I’d like to thank Sat for all the help she gave me during the workshop. It was a fantastic day and I’m very pleased with the amount I learned and with the printed results.

I’ve been playing with ArtRage on the iPad, trying to get used to how the different tools work. There are LOTS of them. I tried doing something similar to the Kandinsky squares that I painted in class with Rod (see previous post). I tried a couple of times while on holiday in Scotland the last two weeks (it was soooo wet, I had lots of free time) but wasn’t happy with the results. This time worked better. It is even less like Kandinsky than my previous acrylic efforts and, believe it or not, took much longer, but I enjoyed the process. I wanted a restricted palette but there seemed no way to do this in the ArtRage toolset, so, in my first square, I loaded a limited set of colours and then used the colour picker to select the colour I wanted at any particular time. At the end, I erased those colours from the square and picked unblended colours from the other squares.

I’m going to have to do a lot more playing with the tools and features of those tools in ArtRage before I can produce decent paintings but it should be fun trying them all out.

I have been working on a set of collagraphs, recently. When I attended the Leicester Print Workshop ‘Introduction to Print’ evening class (see here for next class), my attempt at a collagraph was rather a disaster.

We worked on mountboard card. Nichola showed us how to make dark lines by scoring into the card (using craft knifes) and how to add texture by removing the top section of the mountboard to expose the slightly fluffy card below (middle grade shading), adding carborundum (heavy shading) or just adding PVA glue (light shading, near white-out).

My attempt was to try and create a shaded version of a photograph of my daughter sitting on a bench in Sherwood Forest. I got the lines pretty much in the right place and some of the shading looked ok but the image overall was, frankly, crap. That’s why I didn’t post about that class. The medium did not lend itself to representation imaging — not at my level of expertise, anyway.

I was determined to learn more about what I could do with collagraphs. I had the excellent book, Collagraphs and Mixed Media Printmaking by Brenda Hartill & Richard Clarke (one of the brilliant Printmaking Handbook series from A & C Black) and wanted to try all the techniques described.

I had bought a stack of offcut mountboard from Ferrers Frames, picked out five that arranged pretty well on an A3 sheet, and thought about what to do. I originally started with the idea of a series based on landscapes from our recent trip to NZ and did pretty much keep to that theme. I also tried several techniques. One plate had most of it lifted out and filled with polyfiller which I sculpted and tried to make into landscape-y shapes. With another, I took a photograph of windswept trees, laid it over the plate and cut through photograph and plate: it was interesting when bits of the photograph fell away as I was cutting so I could not use it as a guide any more. Another plate had bits of corrugated card (from an Amazon delivery — something we have plenty of), ripped paper and cotton threads glued to it. One long one, I cut on the coarse side of the mountboard to retain that texture. A fifth and final piece was simply built from geometric shapes. I added texture to the images using some fine sand since I’d been unable to get any carborundum (it cost more for the shipping than for the grit itself).

I varnished all the plates and they were ready only a day before I was due to go into the workshop (I planned to go in on a Wednesday as the workshop is open late so I would be sure to have enough time to get at least one print looking right).

I inked the plates up, laid them out on a piece of newsprint to which I had transferred the plate locations and printed onto a sheet of proof paper. It was a complete mess. I had not removed anywhere near enough ink and passing it through the rollers squeezed ink all over the paper. I was able to run a second sheet through and get a complete image without any re-inking. But I wasn’t satisfied with the results. I got on with a second print that I’d made — see below — and worked on that through until the early afternoon when I had that one right.

Then, even though I was knackered, I decided to have one last go at the 5-plate print again. I spent more time inking and wiping down this time. And it paid off. The print was much better. Still not brilliant, though. The top left plate was too dark so that the lines did not show — I ought to have wiped the surface down much more but had only put one coat of varnish on because of the thin lines and I think the ink had seeped into the plate. The corrugated card had made a nice shape but the carved polyfiller was a bit naff. The geometric shapes plate was okay but the vertical water flow one did not really work though I liked the texture of the reverse surface. Not a good set of plates but I learned a lot from making them.

I had made another, completely different, plate on the day before going in to the workshop. I just had in mind the image of a crow standing on a desert floor with a huge sun in the background. I couldn’t find an image of a bird I liked but did find one of a bird flying away from the camera. I created this one differently as well. I painted the mountboard with a couple of coats of acrylic gesso to provide a nicely toothed surface then used a drypoint needle to scratch the sun and outline of the bird into the plate. I liked the rough way the needle scratched into the surface: not making a clean line but a jagged, coarse one. I laid down some sand and glue into the image for more texture.

I managed to get a really good colour mix with this image, printed it and, again, had the ink run. This time from the bird where I again had too much sand embedded so that it was impossible to remove enough ink. I scrubbed the plate clean of ink, re-inked all the areas around the bird and asked Nichola how I might ink the bird to avoid making another mess. We looked at the plate and it seemed, even after all the cleaning that there was a lot of ink left so I ran the plate through. This image printed well but I didn’t like the colours.

I spent a long time on the third inking, trying to get the colours to blend and work together. I also rubbed the bird down quite a lot, even using cotton buds to remove ink from in the sand. I was very nervous wen lifting the paper but it turned out pretty good. All the hard work had paid off. Not perfect, but encouraging.

Overall, I was very pleased with the day, especially with the bird image. I may just have another go at collagraphs!