All in cyanotypes
Adapt, experiment and survive. That’s my motto, especially when it comes to artist residencies where the unforeseen can completely derail your best laid plans. Getting sick when away from home can be very debilitating. Yet it can also give you the impetus to adapt and experiment, abandoning all measure of control, sometimes with surprising results.
Experimentation is about taking risks. Pursuing a train of thought and organising the steps to get there gives you a better chance of success, even allowing for some ‘failures’ along the way. My blueprint for success is to plan, execute then let go of any expectations. It ‘s how I can adapt and improvise when at an artist residency.
Like Alice discovering wonderland, I have dropped down the rabbit hole of research into alternative photographic processes. Shocked at my ignorance relating to silver extraction for the photographic industry, I am discovering ‘kitchen compounds’ and botanical processes that promise to be an alternative method of image production.
Pest or Passion? I’ve had both reactions to the humble blackberry. But never would I have thought it could lead me down an interesting path of discovery about alternative photographic practices. Yet I now find myself regarding this plant with new eyes.
I never wanted to be a teacher as I was considered a ‘disruptive’ student even in primary school. So holding a workshop is really a ‘once in a blue moon’ event for me. Yet I did hold one this week as part of my mini artist residency in Mornington, Victoria. I learnt so much from the participants’ creative experiments that I have discovered new techniques for making cyanotype prints.
Have you ever felt your ideas have sprung from ‘out of the blue’? Yet the colours, processes and themes which have caught your interest along the way have all pointed you in your current direction. That is what I have discovered about my abiding love for the colour blue and the joy of cyanotype printmaking.
You don’t always have to ‘think big’. There is a move back to sustainable and small, like tiny houses that use less space and resources. So too with art, small is making a comeback with so many end of year exhibitions asking for artworks less than 30cm . It’s a great way to make art affordable and accessible for buyers and especially requiring less time and outlay for artists.
We are taught to reach for perfection, yet that sets us up for failure every time. Printmaking in any form has a strong ‘perfection’ element and to make blurry prints which messy edges is not considered to be technically correct. Yet what if you reframe that idea to turn seeming failures into successes. Perhaps it is a truer reflection of living life in all its messiness.
When one image is not enough to tell a story, then artist books are a great way to combine pictures with text. I have been wanting to find a way to show pain through its relief and have started planning the structure for an artist book. How the materials and narrative work together is an exciting journey of discovery.
Its a challenge of our times to find peace when all around descends into chaos. I have been repurposing circles of paper I made during the pandemic when we were all forced to stay within our homes. These circles became cyanotypes, the blue and white layers become portals of peace.
There's a big difference between stitching paper and stitching cloth. When I'm using cloth, I connect to generations of women who have created their own clothes and 'useful' household items. When I'm stitching paper its all about the story, the art of storytelling with paper and thread.
I love the way patterns can be interpreted in art through repetitive motifs. When printed as cyanotype images, the blue and white designs can be as simple or intricate as the project requires. A bold stencilled figure traversing a landscape created from cardboard boxes is another way to tell a personal story.
When you’ve got the blues - the best remedy is to make something. Deep blue cyanotypes are somewhat melancholic, but playing around with some unresolved cyanotype artworks suggested new creative possibilities. Something new from something old, one way to beat the blues.
I have always thought of site specific art as part of an external landscape, something ‘outside’. This changed when I started making art on flattened out cardboard boxes from things I had eaten, drunk or ingested. Adding actual coffee and wine to the mix has yielded surprising results.
