January 16, 2018

Printmaking Mini-Workshops

        This weekend I once again ran two printmaking mini-workshops at the Arisia sci-fi/fantasy/fandom convention in Boston.  You may be asking whether there’s any intrinsic connection between relief block printmaking and sci-fi/fantasy, and I have to answer that no, there really isn’t.  But I did my best to make one with the following blurb: Relief block printmaking is a magical, sci-fi art form: it’s like carving with light into darkness, and then cloning the result.
        Of course, the disadvantage of actually being busy is that I don’t have much chance to photograph the participants’ work, and this year I didn’t get any pictures at all from my second session, but I do have just a few pieces to share.
        The charming moon rabbit at the top was actually not done during a workshop.  It was made by a woman who participated in my workshops in 2016 and '17, and this year gave me this card she had made at home, having gone out and gotten supplies of her own.  Yay!  I’m spreading the good news about printmaking!  It’s a really lovely little piece, and it was really lovely of her to share it with me.
        The other pieces here are a small sampling from this year and I think they show a nice array of styles, all quite successful.
        Meanwhile, my own display in the art show was also very successful.  Because I don’t sit with my exhibit all weekend like at an open studios show, I usually don’t know who buys my work at Arisia.  But this year I was really delighted that I just happened to see my Young Unicorn, framed in a special gilt filigree frame I found, going home with a young girl in a purple princess dress.  I feel sure that my unicorn will be extremely happy in its new home!

        Thank you to everyone who bought my work, or took part in my workshops.  I hope the good news about block printing is making you happy, too!  If you want more, I will be running a 4-evening printmaking workshop in March through Needham Community Education.  I’d love to have you join me.  You can see the details and sign up here.

[Pictures: Rabbit in the Moon, rubber block print by Alyse;
Rubber block print by Annalise?, 2018 (photo by someone on Arisia staff);
Demon Elk, rubber block print by Angela, 2018;
Cthulhu symbol, rubber block print, 2018.
(Anyone who would like their work credited differently, please just let me know!)]

January 12, 2018

Mapping the Fantastic

        This weekend I’ll be at the Arisia sci fi/fantasy/fandom convention where I will be exhibiting in the art show, presenting on a couple of panels, running a couple of block printing mini-workshops, and doing a reading from The Extraordinary Book of Doors.  I think I’ve got everything prepared and packed for all these various activities, although with a wide variety of events from both the art and writing sides of things, there’s a lot to keep track of and I hope I’m not forgetting anything vital!
        At any rate, the one event that really does tie together both the art and writing is a panel on the use of maps in fantasy.  Our panel members have been putting together a Pinterest board of map pictures to share with the audience, and it looks like there should be lots of interesting ideas about both larger concepts of cartography in world creation, and nitty gritty art tips about making cool-looking maps.  Here’s the link to the Pinterest board.  I’ve written a bit about my thoughts on fantasy maps previously here (or click the "maps" label in the sidebar),  but for this panel I also put together a simple graphic about the way I’ve broken down my thinking on fantasy maps.
        Roughly, the breakdown is that there are 1) the maps the writer/creator has for her own use in keeping things straight and visualizing a world in accurate, consistent detail, and then there are 2) maps that are intended for the reader/viewer/audience.  The maps intended for the audience can be divided further into A) the category of maps that reproduce a map within the story that the fictional characters see or use, and B) the category of maps that exist outside the story purely for the benefit of the reader.  Maps for the characters need to be consistent with the world in which they exist: What is the map for?  What kind of technology and materials exist in this world to gather information and depict it?  What kind of world view or religion would be reflected in a map made by this culture?  What priorities or agenda would it convey?  On the other hand, those maps that exist outside the story don’t need to worry about anachronistic style or accuracy.  They are often made to look as “realistic” as possible, in order to help the reader navigate or keep up with the story, and to help with the illusion that this world is indeed a real physical place that can be surveyed and mapped just like any place on the Earth we know.
        In case you don’t recognize them, the maps illustrating my graphic are, from left to right, top to bottom: a selection of my own notes for the Otherworld Series, the map from Tolkien’s The Hobbit, map of LeGuin’s Earthsea, map accompanying Goldman’s The Princess Bride, and a map of Gurney’s Dinotopia.
          Of course, I won’t know how the conversation with the panel goes until we get there and start talking, and hear what questions and ideas we all bring.  I certainly look forward to it!

[Picture: graphic by AEGN, 2018, using the maps noted above.]

January 9, 2018

Cat + Night + Magic

        There’s a long, deep, connection between cats, night, and magic, well captured in this poem by Elizabeth Coatsworth (USA, 1893-1986).
     On a Night of Snow

Cat, if you go outdoors, you must walk in the snow.
You will come back with little white shoes on your feet,
little white shoes of snow that have heels of sleet.
Stay by the fire, my Cat. Lie still, do not go.
See how the flames are leaping and hissing low,
I will bring you a saucer of milk like a marguerite,
so white and so smooth, so spherical and so sweet —
stay with me, Cat. Outdoors the wild winds blow.

Outdoors the wild winds blow, Mistress, and dark is the night,
strange voices cry in the trees, intoning strange lore,
and more than cats move, lit by our eyes’ green light,
on silent feet where the meadow grasses hang hoar —
Mistress, there are portents abroad of magic and might,
and things that are yet to be done. Open the door!

        My cat is not allowed outdoors, but I suspect that she is not particularly attuned to magic anyway.  She’s not the most mystical of creatures.  Still, cats aside, it is easy to imagine elemental spirits abroad and magic strong on a dark, whirling night of snow.

[Picture: Old Town on a Wintry Night (guzhen xueye), woodcut by An Bin, 1998 (Image from Art Institute Chicago).]

January 5, 2018

Snow Day!

        Every winter when we have a big snowstorm I share a few relief block prints of snowy scenes.  There are plenty to choose from because snowy scenes are a natural for black and white, so I think a lot of printmakers must be inspired by a snow-covered world.  So let’s begin with white snow under a black sky: the still, clear aftermath of the snowstorm.  That’s what I expect here tonight, when we’ll be experiencing frigid cold under clear skies.  I like the big branches in the foreground balanced with the details of the trees in the background, and the natural world of frozen trees and water balanced with the human fence and church.  I also like the touch of the shooting star for just a hint of movement in a still world.
        Here’s another snowy church among trees, but this time with four colors: not just black and white, but also grey and beige.  The golden beige along with the shadows on the snow in the foreground capture a low, slanting sunlight coming in under the edge of the heavy, grey skies.  There’s actually very little white in this block, considering that it’s a snowscape.

        There’s plenty of snow in the next piece, where simple, rounded snow is heaped on the hills and roofs like puffy bonnets.  It’s almost cartoonishly adorable.  I like the simple sawteeth of trees atop the hills of this winter wonderland.
        Finally, a second piece by Sue Cave, with a particularly interesting pattern.  It’s too cold here for icicles - no water is melting enough to start them, despite the sunny afternoon - but I love how Cave has distorted the wintry scene behind in order to evoke the wet, shiny ice.  This one makes me think of a window, and today is definitely a good day to be inside looking out through a window (preferably double-glazed and insulated!) at the beautiful snow.

[Pictures: Drift, wood engraving by Sue Cave, 2009;
Kostelík v Nudvojovicích u Turnova, wood block print with multiple blocks by Karel Vik, 1929 (Image from Galerie09);
Houses in Winter, wood block print by Carl Schaefer, 1930 (Image from Masters Gallery);
Icicle, wood engraving by Sue Cave, 2011 (Images from SueCave.com).]

January 2, 2018

Orpheus and the Animals

        If you recall the story of Orpheus from Greek mythology, you will remember that there are a number of chapters, but the one I’m looking at today is Orpheus’s ability to charm all who heard his music.  The son of the muse Calliope, Orpheus lived with his mother and the other eight muses, so clearly he had plenty of inspiration around.  Apollo gave him a lyre and taught him to play it, while his mother taught him to compose lyrics.  He’s credited with inventing other musical instruments, as well.  And so beautiful was his music that animals were tamed, trees crept near, and even rivers might bend their courses to flow closer to his voice.  What artist wouldn’t wish for that level of mastery?  So it isn’t surprising that artists of all media - music, dance, painting, sculpture, poetry, fiction…- should be inspired by Orpheus.
        Printmakers are no different, so here are a few relief block prints of Orpheus and the animals.  This first one has a wonderful variety of animals, from the monkey in the tree to the ducks in the water, a turtle, and even a giraffe.  Also interesting is his instrument, which is held and bowed like a fiddle, but fretted and with a head more like a guitar.  This is probably something he invented, since it isn’t the lyre Apollo gave him.  Older prints often show Orpheus with a bowed instrument rather than a lyre.
        There are two interesting elements in this second image.  For one thing, among the members of Orpheus’s audience is a unicorn.  This was not uncommon in the renaissance, but I don’t know whether it was just for fun, or whether there was a particular significance to it.  Oddly, what seems more unusual than the unicorn is that Orpheus’s mouth is actually open.  Despite the fact that he’s supposed to be singing, artists seldom seem to show him with open mouth.  I guess it’s just too difficult not to have him look silly that way!
        Jumping forward three and a half centuries, here’s an art deco extravaganza, complete with geometric palm fronds, chiselled wildcats, and full sized harp.  I love the foliage, the antelope, and the birds to the upper right, but Orpheus himself is looking a little too emo for my taste.  It seems a little odd that none of the animals in the foreground is looking at him, and the bear in particular looks very worried about something.  Maybe they’re all mourning Euridyce?
        In my final portrait of Orpheus there aren’t very many animals - just a cat, a deer, and a couple pigeons.  Lest you fear at first glance that this is a dead cat with the hunter’s foot on its neck, just observe that feline smile.  You can almost hear it purr.  I’m absolutely tickled by the way Orpheus is petting the cat with his foot, something that doesn’t seem very high-brow artistic, and yet we do it all the time in our house.  I suspect that the artist, Gerhard Marcks, must have had a cat himself.  And while I may dream, with all the other artists, of being able to enchant all of creation with the beauty and wisdom of my artistic work, at least I know that pleasing my own cat is an achievable goal (though she probably likes my fairly uninspiring singing better than even my most inspiring art or writing).

[Pictures: Orpheus serenading animals, woodcut designed by Matteo da Treviso from Convivio delle Belle Donna, 1532 (Image from The Met);
Orpheus cythara ludens, woodcut by Virgil Solis from Metamorphoses Illustratae, 1563 (Image from University of Virginia);
Orpheus Playing for the Animals, woodcut by Henri van der Stok, c 1920-5 (Image from William P. Carl Fine Prints);
Singender Orpheus, woodcut by Gerhard Marcks, 1948 (Image from Luther College).]