Back in Studio and Printing

Posted on by Sandy Webster

Before I get to printing, here is the man who will put in a nice winding trail for Lee to wander and place some of his rocks. It will go in and out of the woods and switchback in places too steep to head straight back to the studio door.

And the last four days of drawings a day.

Old oregano

has very sparse leaves and blooms.

But is still potent.

 

Grape vines continue

to stretch out with grasping reach

of aspirations.

A Eucalyptus!

I bought all that the store had.

Five of seven live!

 

Distorted effort

of one of the surviving

Eucalyptus trees.

 

Now to the printing I had a chance to try yesterday. On Wednesday afternoon I worked on a small acrylic plate from Melbourne Etching, First the drawing, then place the plate over and copy.

I was inspired by the butterfly bushes in the yard.

Here is the first print….paper too wet.

I am sooo out of practice! The first test prints while I get the feel of wiping the plate.

And the one I picked out to add watercolors.

It felt so good to be back in the studio. I can etch plates over drawings upstairs and then use the time Lee has a minder to get back to printing.

I have approved the samples of The Stoat Story so will also be working on those books. Most of them will be mailed with the rest of the Bush Books to Australia. So grateful for the supporters down under. And their payments will be to Kangaroo Island restoration.

More later.

What Keeps Me Busy Right Now

Posted on by Sandy Webster

The sudden changes from hot to cool rain take an emotional toll. Today I have four hours to get this blog done and then maybe, just maybe try to make a new print of something….anything! I worry my inks will dry up or I won’t find my tools or I won’t know what to make an image of or I will have forgotten how to do any of it. Hot humidity does that….makes you feel totally incapable.

Here is the back yard before rain last night.

And during the rain.

When the yard man returns I am going to have him carve a trail for Lee to walk down through here. Something winding that will bring him back to the house. He is now digging up rocks to place in lines around the driveway. I think I am beginning to not only see the necessity for him to do that, but how satisfying it must be for him to find a way to make an order out of chaos that must be going on in his head at times.

Normally he will drop off to sleep before I have read a paragraph to him but he stayed awake for the entire reading of Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens. It was fun to read. I cried at three places in the book which confused him because he was not getting the sadness of something happening. I just took another sip of single malt and got hold of myself, we laughed and I read on. It is that kind of story….relatable.

So just because, here is the front yard in the rain last evening.

Thank heaven the tree trimmer came last month or I would not be able to see through the leaves.

I am now helping Lee get dressed after his shower. Making sure his shorts are on with the fly in the front, helping him steer into his undershirt and sweat shirt. He can do socks and jeans with zipper, button and belt buckling and strap the velcro on his shoes. He can brush his hair, part it but forgets to then brush it away from the part. He can brush his teeth but needs the toothpaste put on. He can still use his electric shaver but misses quite a bit. And I must say it is hard to use that shaver on someone else’s face. I can’t seem to have him make all those necessary contortions that men do to tighten their skin in different areas. But it was fun trying. Once he can’t feel any more whiskers, he says I am finished, and thanks me for doing it.

The other day I took out the Responsibility Hands sketchbook and started filling it in with some new things he has forgotten.

He had filled a glass with Worcestershire sauce thinking it was beer….I caught that just in time. I could see why it happened. The bottle was the right size, it was brown and what came out looked like a nice deep porter. I think I got him to understand that the beer is only kept in the garage refrigerator, not the one in the kitchen that holds too many strange and nasty things that look like beer. I think our dining out days might be over now. He gets confused on his utensils and piles up whatever he considers non-edible on his napkin or on the table. Whatever is considered edible he cuts into the smallest pieces and mixes it all together.

I think I should write a book about living with dementia, how frustrating and funny it is at the same time. Document the slow decline and use these images as illustrations. I don’t know when I would have the time now.  Right now I am getting concerned with other ideas of things that I feel are important to get done. You know how it is when you wake up at three in the morning and say, “I really need to do that!” Then in the morning if you think of it again, you talk yourself out of it.

Well, I am not going to do that anymore. I am going to take care of it so I can sleep through the night and wait for the next idea to wake me up.

The drawings a day continue. I am making them larger, letting them run onto the facing page.

The inspiration for these drawings is this bed of black bamboo filling a stone-walled horse trough that we bought from a farm supply place for just that purpose….keeping the bamboo contained.

Within just a sprig

of black bamboo its elegance

is so apparent.

 

Old broken bamboo

fill in among all the new

and middle aged stalks.

 

Cautiously picked this

prickly stem of leaves and bloom.

Is it nettles?

 

Butterfly bush stem

of intense violet blooms

on ends of branches.

I still have three hours left of my four hour reprieve. I made new mailing labels on the printer. The very few books for a forest restoration charity in this country have mostly been mailed out. Only three of the ten Bush Books picked up interest in this country…the rest go to Australia and most of those mailed along with the Stoat Story.

My sample of the Stoat Story should arrive this week for me to go over and assemble. What works perfectly in our heads needs to be tested in reality. I am glad that Gwen Diehn reminded me of her son’s printing business. He has been most helpful long distance and seems to get what I am saying in emails. As soon as I get those sheets and turn them into books with hard covers, I will mail them out.  Thank you again to those who wanted one and plan to donate to the National Forests Organization here in this country and another that benefits the restoration of forests on Kangaroo Island off the coast of South Australia. The exact addresses/websites will be mailed with each book.

Okay, I am going to sign off now.

Til later.

 

Mail Delivery

Posted on by Sandy Webster

When you are in isolation/lockdown/ quarantine…whatever this is where mobility is limited….the mail becomes so important. Even junk mail is worth perusing. Lee loves it because junk mail is usually addressed to him.  He can’t really read that well anymore but he knows what his name looks like. After looking at the pictures he will ask if he should throw it out. Yes, put that one in the trash.

My mail is like a life line. I can’t seem to throw it out. I keep it where I can look at it over and over.

There is actually a very big bowl on a large chest in the living room that has at least three years of Christmas cards in it. Once a year I used to take them out, put them in a zip lock bag and stuff it into a cupboard. Now I leave them in the bowl. It was the signatures that got to me. Their name coming to me through their hand.

The form letters about family members and social doings for the year hold little interest anymore. It is the signed name that matters.  I make my own Christmas cards like I have for many, many years. And I sign my and Lee’s name to them. No printed form letters for us. Each year there are fewer people to make and mail cards to. It gets easier to keep with the tradition.

A favorite sister that passed away several years ago never forgot my birthday. She was the only one who it mattered enough to to send a card. Usually a card of some sweet Nature drawing or painting, usually a Hallmark card. But she always signed it “Lovingly, Normae”. When she passed the first thing I thought of was that that was the end of cards signed, “Lovingly”. And it was. I never knew of anyone else who signed cards or letters that way. She also had a destinctively pretty handwriting. Her cards always made me feel loved. She was a very thoughtful person…probably the most thoughtful of the six siblings I was part of….most are gone now.

I remember a movie that starred Paul Newman and Sally Field. They played a couple falling in love and one night she said she had to write a letter to her father. He asked why she didn’t just call him. Her answer, “Because when I hang up, he has nothing to hold onto.” That has always stayed with me. Letters and cards matter.

I have a special drawer where the good cards and letters go. They are the ones I can look at over and over and over.

Here are some.

All of these are from Australia. I keep them in their envelopes so I can smell the country they come from. So many of these cards come anonymously and are so funny in the way they are collaged together. A simple thoughtful greeting on the back, tucked in envelopes bearing exotic foreign stamps.

Another one on the left is from a papermaker/printmaker and feels delicious in the hand. Some come with treasures inside that the senders know will thrill me no end. Lee loves how excited I get when one of these comes in the mail.

And here is one that came just the other day. Just reading her words out loud was impossible without them catching in my throat. She was sending love and wanted me to know she has conversations with me in her head quite often. How good is that!

The card is a reproduction of my most favorite Australian printmaker, Cressida Campbell, who carves one block, adds watercolors to it, dampens it before going into the press for one print only. I always showed pictures of Cressida’s work when I taught white line printmaking. I love that the sender remembered how much I liked Cressida’s work. Also inside was this perfect gift, hand printed by an Australian artist whose towels I dry dishes with daily….it’s a block printed handkerchief for crying into.

Isn’t that lovely?

More later….with drawings.

 

 

 

 

Something Special – Avocado Ink

Posted on by Sandy Webster

A friend in Australia posted how to make an avocado paint/ink. Thank you Trace Willans. I thought I would give it a go and see if I could get that lovely red/brown that she got.

Here are my steps with just two avocado skins and pits.

We ate the good part and then set the pits and skins on the porch for about three days to dry out.

Then chopped it all up.

Not a fine chop and then put them in a quart jar and added about three cups of water and let it sit in the sun.

After two days.

I left the jar in the sun for two more days. Then brought it in to cook it all up on the stove by bringing to a boil, then down to simmer for an hour. I did not have a tsp of washing soda so used oxyclean instead. Somewhere I read that oxyclean could be used for a substitute.

Oxyclean going in and then the boiling.

Then the solids were strained out and put back into the jar for another go in the sun.

A nice 1/2 cup clean jar has one clove added to prevent mold.

I strained the solids with a flimsy cloth so there was hardly any residue when I returned the ink to a cleaned pot to cook down to the thickness I wanted….actually I just wanted it to fit in the jar! It did not take long at a slow boil to get it to reduce. Keep an eye on it.

And here it is: My very own caput mortuum ink!

I also finished off the Bush Books and they are ready to mail out. When I send them out, I will put in the contact names of the two charities. ..National Forest Foundation in this country and a suitable one for the restoration of Kangaroo Island in Australia. Whatever you can donate to these causes would be greatly appreciated.

That’s it for now…just a little bit of something useful…an ink recipe.

Til later.