So, some of you know about tanuki statues– (here’s a brief description)- you see them in front of Japanese restaurants and bars. They’re kinda gimmicky in a charming way.
I have a friend that I’ve known for over 30 years who traded me this fellow. He’s had it since he was stationed in Japan during the mid-60s and (as far as I can tell) is stoneware from Shigaraki (ESE from Kyoto).
I think this one’s a relatively handsome example (about 19″ tall) and not quite as ‘pie-eyed’ and cutesy as some touristy tanuki statues (there are female ones, anime ones, hello kitty ones, etc.).
I hope that he (obviously) will bestow luck upon his new namesake business.
Now that my semester is winding down, I wanted to get some serious printing done. As you might know, I’m in the process of printing 1,600 copies of 14 designs fo my Appalachian Trail print project. Right now, I’m finishing up 200 copies of my first design, “Springer Mt”.
While I was proofing the prints earlier this year, I naturally learned a lot though trial and error plus observation. I had watched other printers use two barens before- it looked as if several simply used one (presumably the weaker baren) to smooth down the paper onto the block and following up with a stronger one for the real work.
While printing very fine-lined blocks in Japan, I noticed that it doesn’t help to always man-handle printing- fine lines (both positive and negative) need finesse unlike large flat areas. This makes sense: When printing fine and/or sparse lines, the pressure from the baren is concentrated into small areas. Too much pressure and the paper is too deeply embossed, under too much pressure, the paper tends to wrap around the inked lines causing blurred edges, etc.
So, I’ve made a video showing a good example of why printers may want to use two barens- the block I feature has both fine lines and large flat areas.
Getting thick stacks ready
In extension to the paper prep entry I posted a few weeks ago, I mention a way to allow for more ease in grabbing paper from the “to be printed stack”by slightly staggering the stack’s leading edge. To do this, gently bend the face-down stack inward in a slight “U” shape. Gently squeeze with one hand and let the sheets naturally stagger. I’ve seen the trick in China where bankers handle stacks of thousands of yuan bills to make it easier to count.
Don’t use this technique with newly-dampened sheets of paper. Dampen them and let them relax for many hours- overnight is preferable before you bend them as newly-dampened sheets tend to stick to neighboring dryer sheets.
I’m very pleased that eight of my prints are on display at Constellation Studios in Lincoln, NE from Dec. 1st until Jan. 26th. Owner Karen Kunc is a very well-respected printmaker and it is an honor to be chosen to hang alongside the five notable printmakers in the exhibition. For more information, please follow this link.
If you manage to attend the opening, please comment!
This post kind of confirms (and consolidates) several techniques I have learned from other people in order to prepare paper for mokuhanga.
1. Go with the Grain
While I was printing in Tokyo, I was having a terrible time with registration issues while printing the “Heron and Crow” design by Koryusai (1735–1790) . Dave Bull cut to the chase and asked how I had cut the paper.
I explained to him that all I really ever considered was to be most efficient with the dimensions because of cost and mitigating waste.
I was embarrassed to hear that I should always cut the long dimension with the grain (see diagram for reasons why). Apparently, the Heron and Crow paper grain was at odds with the wood which compounded problems greatly. I also mixed and matched in that I had the grain going horizontal in some and vertical in others which amounted to insanity. Dave explained to recognize the grain direction and just “go with it” for all of the printing steps.
2. Protect the Corners
When prints require numerous colors- my current prints average 20 impressions, the corners that fit into the kentos (registration guides) take a beating. When I watched Dave Bull print in Ōme, Japan during Dec., 2002, he showed me a trick for printing shin-hanga– using nail polish to strengthen the corner. I use two coats of SuperDry® nail polish from the local DollarTree store- 95¢ and is DA BOMB!
I must admit that fingernail polish aroma adds a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ to the studio.
3. Keeping Track
I also number the prints on the verso using pencil. I can’t tell you how many times this was come in handy- especially during printing the first impression which allows me to orient the paper correctly since there is no previously-printed image as a guide.
4. FLAT is Where It’s At
I have come to the conclusion that conditioned maru bake brushes are good, smoothly-ground pigments are very nice, and a good hon baren is a treasure, but second to using a quality paper- having flat woodblocks and flat paper are the key to getting smooth impressions.
About year ago, I have discovered (and extolled) the virtues of a flat wood block. An uneven or unsmoothed block allows for splotches and woodgrain (unless unintentional). In a nutshell, my prep process is as follows: (1) planing (2)rough orbital sanding- 120 grit (3) fine sanding -1500 grit (4) wet sanding (5) fine sanding-1500 grit (6) bluffing with rouge to a near-mirror finish.
As a printmaking grad student, I heard about flattening the paper to prepare for printing, or, calendaring. I thought at the time that that must be a complete waste of effort. I later heard letterpress printers talking about the presses “kissing” the plate- meaning that the paper made a gentle contact with the inked block to retain sharp printing. Such finesse just couldn’t happen with a a rough paper.
To get a good impression with Japanese-style woodblock, the same is true- if not more so.
“In mokuhanga, a smooth paper is even more important.”
Apparently, washi– even the highest quality- is getting rougher as the years go on. The planks that the paper is dried on are eroding without easy replacement and instead of planing them smooth, the old, rough boards impart their rough surface to the paper.
A not-smooth paper gives a non-directional blotchiness similar to goma-zuri (sesame printing) that results from light printing and not using paste.
If you want a pronounced goma effect, you might print the goma first, then calendar the paper- although this may stretch the paper resulting in bad registration… maybe- I’ve never attempted it…
Initially, I had first smoothed the prints with a beta (clear color impression) block using a ball bearing baren. This worked OK, but really didn’t get the paper very smooth and I ran the risk of baren suji (printing marks).
While working at Mokuhankan for a month, I saw David Bull use an etching press. I tried this recently and yes, I don’t think that any human can compete with the utter silky smooth results.
Here’s a video of me calendaring paper (with a groovy trip-hop soundtrack):
The process takes a while, but unlike the ‘younger me’, I am sure that it will save time in order to get smoother impressions.
NOTE: I would also add that several folks over-size (re-coat the paper with animal glue and alum) with dosa. The present John is too chicken to do this.
A little less than one year ago, I set out creating 14 prints- one design per 14 states along the Appalachian Trail. Well, I finished the designs, blocks, and trail proofs yesterday!
Here’s the last print, Mt. Katahdin which is apropos.
With a few minor revisions, I will start with the main edition:
Springer Mt., GA- the southern terminus (200 copies)
Clingman’s Dome, NC (100 copies)
Roan Mt, TN (100 copies)
Shenandoah, VA (100 copies)
Harper’s Ferry, WV (100 copies)
Raven Rocks Shelter, MD (100 copies)
Lehigh Valley, PA (100 copies)
Sunfish Pond, NJ (100 copies)
Bear Mt. Bridge, NY (100 copies)
Great Falls, CT (100 copies)
Mt. Greylock, MA (100 copies)
Killington, VT (100 copies)
Franconia Notch, NH (100 copies)
Mt. Katahdin, ME – the northern terminus (200 copies)
The reason for twice the number of the first and the last prints is that I will be producing 100 copies of the bound “Appalachian Trail Terminus Print Collection” (two prints) in addition to the bound 100 copies of the “Appalachian Trail Complete Print Collection”.
“This project has required 158 individual cherry blocks. The final edition will be a total of 1,600 prints from over 30,000 color impressions by hand.”
A detail of a color impression proof print
As I have been printing the proofs, I have taken individual color impression on copy paper. Since many of the colors overlap in these prints, I need a way to faithfully reprint these proofs for the final edition.
I also take a few notes- where to wipe, how to make improvements, etc. I have found that as I went on, there were fewer and fewer notes- presumably that I’m getting better rather than laziness…
So here are the proofs: (hint: click on the image and use your ARROW key to navigate).
1. Springer Mountain, GA
2. Clingman’s Dome, NC
3. Roan Mt, TN
4. Shendandoah N.P., Virginia
5. Harper’s Ferry, WV
6. Raven Rock Shelter, MD
7. Lehigh Gap, PA
8. Sunfish Pond, NJ
9. Bear Mt. Bridge, NY
10. Great Falls, CT
11. Mt. Greylock, MA
12. Killington, VT
13. Franconia Notch, NH
14. Mt. Katahdin, ME
For the next phase for 2019, I will be printing the 200 or 100 editions- actually, I am a month ahead and will have a head-start in December.
Starting November of 2019, I will begin binding to finish before September, 2020. Binding seems from my standpoint to be the most unknown of all of the steps. I taught bookbinding and papermaking, but still don’t know how you create a real production bindery? I dunno.
If you’re not familiar with shin-hangaor ‘new prints’ from the 1920’s, 30’s and 40’s, there was a group of artists that were assembled by Shōzaburō Watanabe. Of these artists, the most notable being Shinsui Ito, Kawase Hasui, and Hiroshi Yoshida.
The last two are my main influences- they both were originally painters and brought a western-style flavor to landscapes.
“To emulate their paintings shin-hanga artists used ukiyo-e (by then a long-dead period) style woodblock printing techniques which were hybridized by introducing multiple layering and other innovative techniques. This allowed for a ‘mini-renaissance’ for woodblock.”
I hope that people like Paul Binnie (London), Matt Brown (NH), Leon Loughridge (CO), Yours Truly and others can give some life back to the movement- should we call it “Western shin-hanga“?
During the video I mention that I’ve wondered how such technically complex shin-hanga prints were made using such a small number of blocks. Blocks are very often used multiple times for different colors, but they are generally separated by some space to avoid inking the wrong area. By using a mask, the printer could isolate areas without this concern. Wiping also allows for dual duty as you can see in one of my prints “Sunfish Pond, NJ” #8 fromThe Appalachian Trail Complete Prints series.
The green on the lake reflections is produced by the same medium green block as the trees, but before printing, I wiped the reflection areas which gives a hint of color rather that the full value. The same is done with the orangy cloud color.
In addition, I add a little paste at the wiping area and leave it out of the main part in order to create “goma” or blotchy printing to emulate the texture of rocks.
All of these effects are vastly different than the usual ukiyo-e techniques and, to some degree, resemble the act of painting on the blocks- something that is very difficult to be consistent.
Here’s my finished proof featured in the video- #13 another one from The Appalachian Trail Complete Prints series.
At the risk of sounding ‘cocky’, I think that I’m getting there!
My students like to tease me by using the misnomer ‘rice paper’ to describe asian papers just to watch me cringe (rice paper does exist, but is made for candy wrappers which dissolve in your mouth). Like my students, most of you know that most oriental papers are not made of rice, but of inner bark from a variety of sources.
One such source of bark is the paper mulberry (kozo) which produces the preferred type of paper for woodblock printmaking. The fibers are long which allows for a thinner yet durable sheet. The best kozo papers are also ‘fluffy’ and have a beautiful sheen to the surface.
I have made many sheets myself and have taught oriental papermaking which makes me appreciate the hardships in making this wonderful product.
Steps for making paper
It starts with the arduous process of harvesting the mulberry’s new growth. The branches are steamed and then the bark is stripped off of the wood. Next, the bark is dried and the black outer bark (chiri) is scraped off of the white inner bark. The strips are washed, then
boiled with soda ash- traditionally in large pots fired by the mulberry branches and the ashes were used to make the alkaline soda.
The resulting strips of inner bark are then beaten which retains the long fibers. Any small specks of dark outer bark are painstakingly picked out. The macerated fibers are mixed with water and neri (a mucus-like thickening agent derived from the tororo-aoi root that keep the fibers suspended) to create a slurry which is poured into a large vat.
The papermaking mould or sugeta is expertly dipped into the vat over and over to create just the right thickness and consistency.
The new sheet is then transferred from the sugeta to a stack of previously-made sheets by ‘couching‘ (a french term meaning to put to bed). A weight is then applied to the stack so that the sheets can ‘weep‘ or drain excess water. One by one, the new sheets are then transferred to very wide, smooth wooden boards which are left in the sun to dry. The surface quality of the boards affects the resulting paper’s smoothness.
The dry sheets are removed from the boards and sizing (called dosa– a hot mixture of animal glue nikawa and alum or myoban) is brushed onto the sheets and then hung up to dry. Sizing both strengthens the paper and prevents the ink from bleeding (like water on tissue paper) when printing.
papermakers in Echizen
The price for each sheet of Kitaro Washi‘s kizuki (pure) kozo is almost $20 which includes shipping to the US! That sound like a lot, but I believe that it represents a massive amount of work and skill on behalf of the papermakers.
“Paper, in my opinion, is the most important element for successful printing and it is worth the investment.”
At Kitaro, large paper purchases are is made to order- so it took around 2 months for me to receive it- and here they iz!
Last month, I gave a brief description of color mixing theory that has worked well for me. I have also posted an earlier entry about very traditional ways of hand-mixing color with a wooden mortar and pestle while I was a guest printmaker in Japan.
Since I’m in the middle of a very large project- over 1,600 prints using water-based processes, I need a lot of ink. I have a large ceramic mortar and pestle, but I feel that I haven’t gotten a fine enough particle with manual grinding- maybe as a result of my impatience. I have looked into electric mullers- Hoover test mullers are pricey (like $5KUSD pricey) and produce very little- albeit they are very accurate.
Caveat: I still do use watercolors from Windsor Newton for dark colors for skies to insure smoothness. I doubt I will ever get the pigments as fine as these folks.
Reason#1: “Grinding your own pigments saves money hands-down from buying tube, dispersion, or pre-mixed inks.”
Most of my pigments come from Sinopia. I have found that Sennelier‘s dry pigments are not as powerful or dense. Kramer is OK (very limited and a very non-descript selection) as is Gamblin.
It’s Muller Time
OK, Soooo… in my quest for mass amounts of pigments, I found a Vidiem wet grinder- It is designed to mix Eastern-Indian sauces. It works by using two grinding wheels on an abrasive surface and has a tension knob to control the grinding pressure.
I would recommend wearing a mask while working with dry pigments. Combine water (add a 1/4 cup water initially for a full jar of pigment) and most likely a little 1 teaspoon? of ethyl alcohol to break the surface tension (Everclear® grain alcohol works well!). I also add a few drops of clove oil for a preservative which smells a lot better than rotten hydrogen sulphide smell.
Here’s a noisy Youtube video of the mixer in action. You can see me scoop out the good stuff.
The grinder does well in my opinion- I let it run for about 20 minutes and slowly turn the knob tighter as it grinds. I would suggest keeping the pigment’s consistency peanut-butter-like as it’s a lot easier to get out of the grinder. I use a rubber spatula and scrape the wheels while they spin and put the paste into small mason canning jars, label them with the color, pigment maker, and date.
Other thoughts: The grinder’s plastic ‘innards’ become a little staind, so I have started grinding the yellows, gone to the reds, then the blues to keep the color contamination down to a minimum. To clean, I add water into the mixer, turn it on and use dish scrub pads.
So, I took color theory back in the mists of time. I never really thought about it much and followed my intuition along with the standard color palettes that were recommended to me at the time. Later, woodblock printmaking required me to think deeper- primarily in order to simplify and make more efficient my color choices- especially using shin-hanga techniques which involve layer over layer of colors and values to emulate watercolor painting.
During the 90s, I followed the traditional ukiyo-e palette using indian yellow, vermillion, ultramarine blue, indigo, bengal red, carmine, and sumi. This system allows for a good range of colors- what I saw was a lack of a warm, light blue, so I later integrated cerulean blue.
After discussing color with Paul Ritscher of Salinas, California, I bought Blue and Yellow Does Not Make Green by Michael Wilcox. It’s a handy book that goes into detail, but what I gleaned most from it was something that I had intuited for some time but didn’t pursue enough: That the single Red, Blue, Yellow primary palette wasn’t nearly enough and using a split-primary system: a warm red, cool red, warm blue, cool blue, warm yellow, and a cool yellow provided cleaner and broader options.
Below is a chart that I put together to help me look at split primary interactions. I am neglecting tints (lighter hue combinations) which, in woodblock printmaking are created by weaker ink mixtures and shades (darker hue combinations) which I use a combination of compliment hue mix to darken. Payne’s Gray is made this way I believe.
Things above might look a bit complicated, but I think for me, charting this out helps to cement my understanding- both intuitively and rationally. It’s interesting to see that the chart isn’t ‘symmetrical’ in that the pure green isn’t on the outer end of the secondaries as the pure purple and orange is. Also, there is some ‘criss-crossing’ going on between the reds and blues. I think that this is a result combining a ‘dualistic’ system (a single color mixing with another single color) with three 2-primaries. I feel that this palette allows for solutions to common problems and produces nice reds, pure purples, a range of greens, etc.
If I had continued with the 3 primary system, in order to get a nice orange (product of a warm red and a warm yellow), I would have to compromise with producing a muddy brownish purple which would have to be a product of a warm red and a cool blue (see the swatch above “pure purple” for an approximation). Incidentally, while I was a graphic designer, I was told that “Coke” (Coca-Cola) red required a five-color printing set-up since the CMYK color system couldn’t produce the proper red from Magenta and Yellow.
In the defense of mud, I think you will agree after looking at the middle of the secondary “Y” in the chart, that there are some rather handsome subdued colors that are a product of a cool and warm combination.
“Why does a mixture of a warm and cool primary appear muddy?”
I found a nice, albeit scientific explanation to how light is reflected within the visual spectrum. At the risk of comprehending this, it appears that molecules are ‘excited’ in different ways by photons hitting them. The wavelength and amount of the reflection depends on the molecule’s ability to revert back to its normal state…
Inversely, (from what my limited understanding can gather) the molecule’s inability to ‘calm down’ results in its absorption of the color’s wavelength- maybe the vibrations are interference… Anyway, if there is absolutely no reflectiveness, then black occurs. On a side note, vantablack uses texture to not reflect light. How can you see colored velvet then?…
It follows that if a wide area of the spectrum is absorbed, then a muted color is perceived by the eye. Inversely, if a narrow part of the spectrum is reflected, then a purer and lighter version of the hue is perceived.
So , how does this relate to warm/cool combinations? It seems to me that using say, a cool blue and a warm red covers too wide of the spectrum- therefore the wider the range of color, the less the reflection, the muddier the color. Whew! my feeble brain hurts, but maybe, just maybe this makes sense. Color is a complicated endeavor fraught with emotion and many, many variables.
As far as the support (in my case, mostly-white thick mulberry paper) effecting color- I was told that the advantage of using the combination of white paper and transparent inks is that light first passes through the pigment, then bounces off of the white paper, then travels back through the pigment to create an addition effect. I’ve never printed on black paper, but I think that we can imagine the results.
An interesting reference for more detailed information (it’s free to download the .pdf) is The Color Book.
I apologize for a lack of posts lately- we took a 3-week family camping trip to Canada which was wonderful BTW. I also found out that I had become a full professor- yea!
Since then, I’ve been working on moving my printing operation from my university office (see right) to my basement (below) before the semester starts. I had outgrown the aburdly-small office space long ago and I physically found it hard to safely navigate around all of the heaps of stuff- especially the accumulating 90+ woodblocks (soon to be 150+) for my Appalachian Trail Series.
Maybe I delayed the move to make a point to administration that we, as faculty, need some support to create art- something that is a large part of our job description. Anyway, in reality, I think that the only impression that was communicated was “What the hell is this mess”? or “Why doesn’t this guy simply have a computer and a clean desk like everyone else”?
On the other hand, I did enjoy the occasions when a curious student would stick his or her head in and ask what I was doing. Either way, the situation was completely unsustainable and I’ve given up dealing with these limitations.
Fast forward 3 weeks: This is what my new space looks like! It’s in my basement but I think I’ll be both safer and happier using my own resources- however troglodyte-like it is.
Here’s another view of the printing desk area. You will notice a foot-high printing platform with a foot well. This was inspired by what I printed on for a month at Mokuhankan- thanks to Lee-san and Dave-san for the idea. I also want to thank my wife, Margaret and son, Robert for helping with both support and muscle.
In another adjacent room, I have built a pigment/paste mixing brush washing, sharpening area.
Now, on to the garage for establishing a carving area next! Many trips to the dump in my future. I fully expect these areas to fill up- but until then, I’m lovin’ the space in the meantime!
Waddya think? I think that it’s time to start making prints again…
As a continuation in my quest to print the smoooothest color I can, I am turning to wet sanding blocks as a part of the prepping process. Keeping in mind that traditional Japanese artisans use yamazakuraor mountain cherry (preferably hand-planed) which has a much more tight grain than the black cherry from the US I am using. However, I want to make the best with what is at hand.
Recap- In case you have not seen my earlier entries on block prep, here they are:
OK, so until about two months ago, I would simply laminate the 1/4″ cherry to 1/2″ birch plywood, plane, sand, and buff using polishing rouge. This produced a
almost mirror finish. When I printed, the smoothness went away somewhat and I had to resort to using a #5000-grit nagura stone to polish the wet block when the wood grain started to appear. This can be tricky as it’s easy for the corners of the stone to wear the edges of carved areas of the woodblock- plus is makes a little slurry.
So, I thought-What’s this non-sense? Why don’t I wet-sand while prepping the blocks?
I was familiar with wet sanding- the idea is to raise the grain with water and sand it smooth so that when a finish is applied, the wood grain will expand again and as the finish dries from the outside in, the surface will be locked into a smoother surface.
Now woodblock printmaking is a different animal, but the re-introducing of water during the process (in woodblock, it’s the printing) is similar in a way.
My New Way
Once again, my earlier process of block prep concentrated on judging the smoothness of a block while it was dry. I now decided that I need to judge the smoothness of a wet one since that is the condition of the wood while printing.
Here’s a diagram that may communicate better visuallyTo re-iterate: After the block’s grain has been ‘knocked down’, the dried block surface will not appear smooth until water is re-introduced while printing. I have always charge my blocks with pigment and covered with a wet towel for at least 5 minutes. It allows the pigment to soak into the wood which produces a much more clean and consistent result. I have found that if I follow this, it really does limit the number of those early bad impressions.
Dave Bull had mentioned to me years ago that Woodlike Matsumura’s very smooth laminated blocks were sanded -underwater-. Instead of imagining guys in scuba gear, this concept led me to wet-sanding by hand using fine #800 and #1200- grit emery paper with a block submerged in a developing tray. This is OK- a little awkward, but for the present series I am working on, (80 blocks done, 80 to go) this is too much for a wimp like me, so I decided to buy a wet orbital sander designed for car refinishing.
It works pretty well- a water feed from a bucket (blue hose) allows for a steady stream of water. It’s powered by an air hose from a compressor.
The blocks are then washed off and dried. I learned the hard way once- don’t stack wet blocks as they will mold!
OK, so I had pretty good results printing using this latest block prep technique. You of course don’t need fancy equipment- the key concept, IMO, is that knocking down raised grain is a good idea if you’re into smoooooth impressions.
Sorry that I’ve been pretty ‘mum’ about any prints lately. Since December I have been very busy designing and printing a series of hand-made fourteen 5″ x 7″ (8″x10″ paper size) shin hanga– style woodblock prints featuring an image from east state along the 2,100-mile Appalachian Trail. This is at least a 2.5 > 3-year project for me!
I was a thru-hiker back in 1980. 38 yrs later and counting, I continue to re-hike sections of the trail which conveniently starts at Springer Mountain- which is about 30 miles from my home in the North Georgia mountains.
Basically, my idea with this project is to combine two of my interests: backpacking and woodblock printmaking. I’d like to think that it mirrors other historical pilgrimage print series such as Hiroshige’s Tokaido Road.
As an added connection with the trail, I am taking soil samples from each site and integrating the actual dirt with the ink!
Proofs are in the pudding
Here are my printed proofs of the first 7 prints. I hope to finish with all 14 proofs by Dec., 2018 (fingers crossed). The remaining images to be designed and proof printed (the last half) are: NJ, NY, CT, MA, VT, NH, and ME. After all of the 14 prints are proofed, I will then print 100-200 copies of each design– no small feat as the average number of impressions for each design average around 20 colors each- the number of blocks are averaging around 11 each design. The 80+ laminated cherry blocks are stacking up already with an anticipated total number of 165 by the time I am finished. The paper is Iwano Kizuki from Kitaro Washi which will cost at least US$5,000 for the final editions…
It’s interesting to note that this printmaking process has been similar to long-distance hiking- planning is important, but mainly keeping moving with one step at a time and ignoring distractions are the key.
The final edition will be 1600 prints: 14 designs, 20 passes each which equals to 32,000 impressions! My guesstimate is that this will take around a total of 140 8-hour days to print- and at least 3 weeks to bind them- about the same number of days it took me to hike the 2,100 miles of the trail. I’m interested to see which is more difficult…
The ultimate goal is to market 100 sets of these 14 prints to hikers and trail enthusiasts- in 2019 to an institution that I hope is interested. At some point, I will make presentation cases to contain them.
As one of my friends once said “I don’t need luck, I have patience”.
It’s getting a bit more efficient and my turn-around time (while working full-time) for a design from start to proof has gone from around 3 weeks to 9 days! I’m pretty pleased at my ability to accurately print the values and coloring of my initial computer designs.
Below are the individual impressions for the shin hanga print “Flower Street After the Rain” or “Kagurazaka Dori” by Hiroshi Yoshida, 1929. I hope it’s not too much of an esoteric subject, but hey, I’m a geek about this stuff.
For my (and others’) sake, I have added some of the artist’s hand-written notes along with some of my own about what I believe each impression’s technical considerations were and how it was designed by the artist.
Folks that are not familiar with overlapping colors may be surprised with how much stronger the impressions on the left sides (no.’s with A) appear in context with how they appear in the cumulative print on the right. This can be explained in two ways: (1) the perception of value contrast as the solitary colors are surrounded by blank paper and (2) often colors on top of others are not absorbed into previously printed colors- especially if the paper is damp which creates somewhat of a resistance. Often the newly-printed colors merely appear to tint the previous colors rather than darken them.
I’ve heard that if a woodblock design or printing wasn’t going that well, a publisher would decide make it into a night scene. In this print, however, it’s clear to me that this design is all about featuring a night-time luminosity of reflections and glowing interiors.
Since I did not take these images, there may be a lot of variation in lighting value and temperature. I believe I remembered the individual color sheets to be of a lesser quality paper that has become darker that the washi used for the cumulative impressions- this makes sense cost-wise and registration is not an issue. Either way, thank you again Florida State University’s Art Collection!
Number of impressions (lightest = least, darkest = most)
Once again, here is an the animation from the first entry:
Sometimes, unexpected things are nearer than I think. Florida State University’s Art Museum houses a 67-impression series from Hiroshi Yoshida’s (1876-1950) oban-size “Kagurazaka Dori” ( the English title is “Flower Street After a Night Rain”) from 1929.
Since I am a printmaking professor, I asked the Associate Director of Collections if there were any archived images available as an academic resource. To my delight, she was very kind to send all 67 files (33 cumulative and 33 individual impressions plus a chop mark impression) to me!
I have no idea where (or when) FSU got these, but they are very, very rare. It is my understanding that this is the only set of it’s kind outside of Yoshida Studios in Toyko where Tsukasa Yoshida stores such things along with the blocks of his grandfather.
From what I am told, Hiroshi Yoshida’s prints are rarely re-printed (if ever). Since the hand-written notes are in English (apparently in Hiroshi’s hand), I’ll bet that this was a keepsake gift (probably for a US army officer family during the occupation) rather than the normal instructions for printers to follow.
Despite that this is not exactly my favorite print of Hiroshi’s, I am so obsessively-interested in producing shin hanga-style prints- specifically in the Yoshida-style, that this is a real find for a geek like me.
I’ve actually seen the set once before- as a grad student, I went down to Tallahasee in 2002 and attempted to record the set by using slide film- which turned out terribly because of the low lighting. The idea was to take them to Japan where Dave Bull and I were mapping out another shin hanga-style night scene of my design, “Milton”, as part of his Surimono series. At the time, I wasn’t very ‘deep’ in such printing techniques and now I feel that I can see and glean the information much more.
I know that while looking at the animation that it’s difficult to get all of the subtleties of each cumulative layer. After looking though all of them, there are several things that quickly struck me- particularly the use of fukitori or (“wiping off”) technique. Since you can’t skip to frames in this animation, I wanted to point out the 1st image of the keyblock where the brown ink in the street lamp’s lighted areas were wiped off. In the 2nd image, the keyblock was re-printed in red (to indicate the lamps and wet street’s glare) in conjunction of where the 1st impression areas were wiped off. It’s pretty obvious that the printer (Komatsu-san?) used a stencil overlaid onto an inked block. Design-wise, using the isolated red instead of the darker brown creates an environmental effect that is… well, very effective.
As I said, there are also the other 34 individual impressions that I hope to add with notes soon.
Sets like this are like preliminary drawings for paintings- they provides a lot of insight that tends to get buried in the final product.
Side note: It’s well known that most of the Yoshida’s keyblocks were made of zinc and glycerin was mixed with pigment to adhere to the metal.
There are many more 89 year-old mysteries yet to be unfolded.
If you’re looking at this site, you’re probably familiar with the use of paste (nori) in mokuhanga: It allows the pigment to stay in suspension and produces a smoother color impression. I go through it pretty quickly lately.
paste in the past (love the smell)- it’s apparently made of tapioca starch and the ‘word on the street’ is that it sometimes makes printed areas shrink while prints dry which can buckle the paper.
I’ve also made my own paste from a variety of flours (rice primarily) before working each day, but it’s nice to have a ready-made supply on hand.
While printing in Japan, I was introduced to Ashipen shoji screen glue. Suga-san and Ayumi-san of Mokuhanakan didn’t know what it was made from. They were generous enough to translate the ingredients for me and we found out that it is made from potato starch! The price of this shoji glue for westerners via Amazon.jp is steep-$27.51! Luckily, I was able to buy 2 containers in Tokyo for next to nothing ~$2US ea. It’s amazing to see the markup on esoteric things.
So, as I watched my precious supply of Asahipen nori dwindle, I considered doing some experiments to make and package my own batch nori with a long shelf-life for med.>long-term use.
I recalled my early backpacking days and bought 4 fill-able camping squeeze tubes from REI with my member rebate (price- about $2.50 ea.).
I also purchased an 8 oz. bottle of preservative (Germaben II) on eBay for $15 which is used for cosmetics production. I did some layman’s research about preservatives- apparently, a high or low pH is an attribute for most natural preservatives. Germaben II however, has a neutral pH (~7) which is important for archival reasons and multiple websites state that it is the best choice among non-toxic preservatives. It rates especially high on the anti-fungal chart- another concern for print-makers.
For the nori, I also bought Bob’s Red Mill Potato Starch which was a bout $6 at a local health food store. It’s pure potato starch. All of these ingredients should supply my nori needs for 5 years if the moths don’t get to the starch.
Recipe and Process
1. I used the following recipe to make a lot (around 1/2 gallon) of the stuff:
2 quarts water (~2 liters)
1 cup starch (~240 ml)
1/2 teaspoon (~2.5 ml) Germaben II preservative (I think I did the math roughly to the recommended .5>1% concentration).
2. I mixed the starch and cold water together and mixed it VERY well.
3. I used medium heat and stirred, stirred, and stirred.
I can’t emphasize constant stirring enough.
The starch will settle and cause lumps if you don’t!
4. I heated it until the mixture becomes translucent- right before it boils. The process is called gelatinization. I initially used 1.5 liters of water and added .5 liters later.
5. I let it cool for about 20 minutes and added 1/2 teaspoon of preservative (the online directions warned against adding to anything too hot) which equates to the recommended 1% solution. I stirred it thoroughly. It has a pleasant smell and the aroma and strangely reminded me of Halloween makeup from the late 60s… it’s weird how smells haunt the memory.
6. While the nori was still warm, I filled the squeeze tubes and the two empty Asahipen containers. I still had about 2 more containers worth that I chucked outside.
7. If you use the squeeze tubes, fill them about 2/3 of the way to keep the excess nori from squeezing out when you put the crimper on.
The cool end-result should look like a clearish, semi-firm gel (the retrogradation of the starches).
I think I have about a year’s supply of TanukiBrand® Nori. I trust that it’ll keep for several months or years. If things go bad in the far future, I’ll be the first to tell you!
Either way, this could save me a bundle!
Thanks again to Suga-san and Ayumi-san for turning me onto potato starch!
I’ve always wanted to to an irregular bokashi or gradation– (yes, my desires are irregular).
The classic example of such a thing is Hiroshige’s Sudden Shower Over Shin-Ohashi. The problem with irregularity is consistency of ink application within an edition.
Last week, Shimoi-san of Ukiyo-e Reproductions showed how he recreated the dark rain clouds while he was printing “Sudden Shower”. I asked him if he used a jig and he said “no, jigs didn’t work as well” and posted a few pics showing his technique of directly inking which is probably the traditional way to do it. However, I’m not good enough to trust myself with placing the pigment, brushing, and printing consistently.
I had remembered David Bull using a jig in 2009 to create a very smooth bokashi arc for a fan print he was working on. He used a Lazy Susan to help with the brushing- I thought that was pretty ingenious.
I cannot imagine how someone in the Edo period could brush freehand that cleanly and I’m sure there was another trick at the time. Anyway, Dave’s print really looked nice and I squirreled that information away.
I am printing a third print of a series of 14 (much more on that much later) and wanted to capture a rainstorm in the mountains.
You can see the similar effect as in Sudden Shower that I am looking for: A dark, foreboding cloud just as the rain has started, but not as undulating as Hiroshige’s design.
For this print, I am using 11 blocks with 17 impressions in the shin-hanga style. The rain, incidentally, is printed with gofun, or Chinese white. The rain is my first attempt of Kyoto-style printing: Unlike the Tokyo/Edo ukiyo-e transparent style (like the rest of the print), opaque pigments require more pigment- under very light baren pressure. In this case, it’s the last thing to print.
I’m at the proofing process and wanted to get everything ‘just so’ for a much larger edition. I know how gradations tend to ‘creep’ over time- a little or too much there cumulatively can lead to a little or a lot too much there. So, to that end, any fluctuations in the bokashi would render the edition too variable and I wanted some help.
I remembered Dave’s jig and made one of my own, albeit not as clever.
Here’s a few pics:
Given using the zokin, nori, and hanga bake correctly (note in the above photo, the black dot indicating which side of the brush is loaded with sumi), the jig worked well- I had to keep the brush at a consistent angle, but overall, I’m quite pleased with the relative consistency!
When I traveled to the IMC2017 conference in Hawaii, I had the pleasure of talking shop with the Scottish printer Mr. Paul Binnie. If you aren’t aware of his work, please do yourself a favor and check it out. His prints had always been very inspiring to me on many levels- and even more so in person. We quickly ‘got into the weeds’ technically. He’s a great guy- very humble, warm, and helpful, and seemed to be excited to talk about my prints and the processes he uses. While going through his portfolio, I pointed out that his colors were especially vibrant and his large print registration was -dead- on.
I asked him question after question about choice of pigments, paper, etc., but one technical difference struck with me the most: Instead of keeping his printing stack damp throughout the edition, Paul would print a color, then dry the prints, then re-wet them before the next impression.
Moisture control is the name of the game IMO-especially in shin hanga which requires many overlapping impressions and large areas of printing. I also observed that Ayumi-san, at Tokyo’s Mokuhankan, would ‘start over’ her shin hanga moisture process by drying the printed sheets at some point and re-wet them within the middle of her edition (see pic #2).
My process is, up to now, to print (with each impression adding moisture to the areas printed), to stagger the prints in order to distribute the moisture within the stack- see photo#1 (this is sometimes impossible to allow the newly-printed areas from overlapping), and throwing the stack in plastic into the fridge or freezer overnight to help further distribute the moisture within the stack.
This keeping the stack damp works “OK”, but I have found that it’s difficult to truly distribute moisture overall- plus the condensation of a cold paper stack can add water to the top and bottom. I also feel that the printed pigment doesn’t get a chance to become fully absorbed into the paper. Either way, keeping that proper dampness just right is very difficult. I also feel that Paul Binnie’s vivid color is partially a product of drying and re-wetting.
I was intrigued about drying and re-wetting during an edition (I hope to print 200 soon). In order to dry the prints, I have simply been interleaving them with chipboard underneath a weight and letting them sit overnight. I found that occasionally, the prints took more than 12 hours to dry completely. This could slow down future production EEEK!
So, What is a Printmaker to Do?
So, in an earlier entry,I described using my hand-made press to glue/laminate cherry onto birch blocks. I searched online for various ways that other printmakers dry prints and came across Crown Point Press’ forced air print dryer. It uses corrugated cardboard (I bought a stack from ULINE) that channels warmed forced air through the stack with pressure. So while designing my press, I kept this in mind as a secondary purpose for the press as a forced air print dryer. Please keep in mind the direction of the corrugation when you purchase the cardboard!
Front (outflow) side
All-in-one laminator and print dryer
I then re-purposed a marine fan I was given by my parents and enclosed its electronics within a wood frame. It started to look a bit like a middle school science fair model of an engine block…
Initially, I was a bit concerned about how the air flowed length-wise through the 10″ x 15″ stack (under light pressure) along the corrugations and decided to direct the airflow to draw through the press rather than blowing through it. To aid in drying, I also interleaved the prints as follows: blotter paper, damp print, corrugated cardboard, blotter, print, cardboard, etc., etc. Also, I did not add the heating element as does Crown Point, but could easily add a ceramic heater on the intake side of the stack.
After loading the press, I positioned the fan snug against the cardboard stack and gave it a whirl- the airflow seemed to work well passing though the corrugations suprizingly well.
“Within an hour, I had a very flat, VERY dry stack of prints!”
I removed the prints and let the fan run for another hour to dry the blotters and cardboard. The arrangement surpassed my expectations and I believe that will greatly expedite the process. I believe that this press can dry 50 small prints at a time- 100 if doubled up each hour. Maybe by adding a heater, this can be even quicker!
A big thanks to standing on the shoulders of Mr. Paul Binnie, David Bull, Ayumi Miyashita, and Crown Point Press!
I have since both built a press which I am also using as a forced-air print dryer (more details at a later date). In addition to making drying more efficient, I am looking at making the process of making cherry blocks more efficiently- both in material, time, and money. As I’ve mentioned on Facebook, I order 1/4″ thick, 6″ x 24″ black cherry thin stock from Green Valley Wood Products. Some cherry plywood blocks available online have only 1/8″ thick cherry veneer- too thin for my tastes…
In order to become more efficient, I have looked at material dimensions of the wood and paper first, then designed my prints accordingly.
As you probably know, the kento registration system is great, but there is wasted wood around the margins and it’s very difficult for me to clear the margins in order to create a clean area around the carving. You can see a keyblock separation and the finished block from one of my latest prints in production below.
Instead of using a printing jig, I have been laminating separate pieces of cherry for the printed area and where the kentos will be carved. It takes some precision, but as you can see on the keyblock, I allow for a large margin of error by cutting the cherry oversized by around 1/2″ in case things are off a bit.
I start by cutting the thin stock cherry. You can see me using a “stop” on the radial arm saw. I also cut 1.5″ x 1.25″ little cherry blocks for the kentos– 2 for each block.
I have very limited space to print as you can see. It’s doubles as my office at the university and is a mess most of the time. I hope that someday soon, I can locate to a studio where I am not falling over stuff- or stuff falling on top of me.
As you can see, I have pretty much all I need except space and time… I am presently building a forced-air print drying press (from a conversation I had in Hawaii with the gracious Paul Binnie)- details to come on that [UPDATE: here is the print dryer post]…
I had the pleasure of spending a month working at Mokuhankan Studio in Asakusa, Tokyo from May to June, 2017. One of many new experiences for me was, under the direction of Natsuki Suga (who worked under Kenichi Kubota at the Adachi Institute for 5 years) to make relatively large batches of color using wood board mortars and pestles. This is to assure the pigments’ quality and to create a well-mixed supply of color paste that is ready to use later. Each color requires it’s own sanded cherry board and pestle (pine with cherry faced using epoxy glue) that was made by Lee-san.
Like most printers, I generally use a mortar and pestle for a far too short of a time in order to grind pigments into a paste [for beginning printers, this resulting color paste is then later added by the printer to the block with varying degrees of water and nori (starch) paste while printing]. For the record, I’m pretty slack and sometimes just mix the pigment out of the bag with water (sometimes w /alcohol to break the surface tension) using only a brush/tokibo or hakobi. I am learning that mixing the colors thoroughly helps create much smoother colors and avoids a print being spoiled because of stain blotches which sometimes show up during printing from not mixing the pigments well enough.
“Warning: It takes a long time.”
This process of grinding on a board takes a long time but, unlike using a deep mortar, you can much more easily see the texture of the pigment on the flat surface.
List of colors:
Prep: Of the 5 colors, only bengara had pure ethyl (grain) alcohol added, mixed in the night before, and was allowed to sit open for the alcohol to evaporate. Also, pigments like bengara require more time to grind because the particles are coarser. You will need a wooden board, wooden pestle, a scraper (my credit card seemed to work well since it was not hard enough to damage the wood), water, jars.
(1) Wearing a mask, add a small amount of clear (preferably distilled) water to the dry pigments in a jar and stir.
(2) Approx. one tablespoon of damp pigment is then placed onto the top of the block.
(3) The wooden pestle is held at a slight angle away from the pigment to be ground and pushed with moderate pressure back and forth.
4) The processed portion naturally accumulates and builds up on the pestle which is then scraped off.
(5) Water is occasionally added, but Suga-san explained that too much water doesn’t allow the particles to grind against each other.
(6) After each pass, the color is then pushed back and the process is started over.
(7) The idea is to grind 4>6 times into a paste (refer to chart above it took on the average 45min. to process a tablespoon of dampened pigment). Suga-san said that the final surface should appear creamy-smooth.
(8) At the end of the grinding process, water is spread around and the residual pigment is gathered up.
(9) After grinding, enough water is added to the paste to be pushed through a fine sieve into jars.
(10) Water is then very carefully added to the top. Over time, the water and heavier pigment naturally separate.and stored out of the light in a cool area of the studio.
(11) Each morning, the water is drained carefully off the top. New water is then carefully added again to the top of the drained paste after it’s used and returned to a cool, dark area. This process or replacing the water reportedly keeps spoilage down (presumably, by limiting exposure to air) as opposed to adding preservatives. The key is or course, not to shake or stir the jars.
Additional references: Preparing powdered pigments can be found in a “Tools and Materials” section David Bull’s www.woodblock.com Encyclopedia article. The idea of keeping a selection of pigments stored in ‘paste’ form in an alcohol/water mix is discussed in ‘One-Point Lesson’ #6 in another section of the Encyclopedia.
NOTES AND OBSERVATIONS:
Mokuhankan is planning to compare this traditional method of grinding pigments with using a western-style glass muller/ glass slab combination. I suspect that this will result in less hard-won pigment being lost and may go a bit faster.
As of several days later, both the Ultramarine and the Indigo did not separate to clear water. I was a little suprised at the Ultramarine since it is a mineral pigment.
I’m also not quite sure that the step of pushing the pigment through the sieve is necessary since the ground particles are much finer than the screen.
After printing, mixing bowls are left to dry around the printing desks and are reconstituted (unless starch paste had been added) by simply adding a little water and stirring with the tokibo without apparent problems. I’ve noticed that this reconstituting doesn’t work as well with commercial tube watercolors since there is gum added and it results in a grainy texture.
When I worked at Mokuhankan in Asakusa in May, I had the honor of trading one of my prints for a painstaking re-make of Katsushika Hokusai’s (1760 – 1849) 「富嶽三十六景 神奈川沖浪裏」 “Great Wave off Kanagawa” subtitled: “Beneath the Wave”. The print was originally designed by Hokusai c.1829 and was re-carved by Dave Bull and printed by Numabe-san. See Mokuhankan’s Great Wave Project
Hokusai’s ~9-color ōban print was part of his series “Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji”. Kanagawa is near Tokyo’s port town Yokohama- you can see Fuji-san in the background looking WNW.
“The Wave”, of course, is an iconic image– likely the most recognized woodblock print in history. I am always amazed when students have never seen it. Students who recognize it think that Hokusai carved and printed it also- I sometimes clue them in to the division of labor, sometimes not.
Hokusai’s use of the golden section based on natural observation has often been noted by academics.
I’ve also read that the Great Wave’s foam forms “claw-like” leading crests very similar to the way dragon claws are depicted see: Hokusai’s “Dragon Ascending Mt. Fuji” from ‘One Hundred Views of Mount Fuji’ (Fugaku hyakkei) 1835. The effect depicts an active nature’s power in the face of puny fishermen who prostrate themselves in fear.
It is also interesting (at least to me) to note that Hokusai made a series of ‘proto-waves’. Shown above left is one entitled “Oshiokuri Hato Tsūsen no Zu,” or “Fast Cargo Boat Battling The Waves” c. 1805. The style looks to me a bit like work from a later artist, Rockwell Kent.
• Although his studio and much of his work was destroyed in a fire in 1839, the artist is thought to have produced 30,000 works over the course of his lifetime
• Hokusai lived in more than 90 dwellings during the course of his life.
“When I was 50 I had published a universe of designs, but all I have done before the age of 70 is not worth bothering with. At 75, I’ll have learned something of the pattern of nature, of animals, of plants, of trees, birds, fish and insects. When I am 80, you will see real progress. At 90, I shall have cut my way deeply into the mystery of life itself. At 100 I shall be a marvellous artist. At 110, everything I create — a dot, a line — will jump to life as never before.” He died at age 88 hoping for ten more years in order to become a “real painter”.
The baren(馬連 or バレン) is the most important tool (other than hands) for a mokuhanga printmaker. As it’s well-documented, honbarens have three parts: the (1) shin, or coil that is twisted shirodake bamboo and sewn into a disc; the (2) ategawa, the disc composed of ~40 sheets of washi paper glued together with persimmon juice sealed with water-proof urushi lacquer; and the (3) takenokawa, a timber bamboo leaf covering. Barens are, as you can imagine, quite expensive as it takes upwards of 6 months for a craftsman to make and cost anywhere from US$800>$1400. The number of strands, the width of strips, and how they are braided dictate the coarseness, power, and/or finesse of the baren depending on the intended printing effect. An article from woodblock.com about hon barens and baren-making can be seen here.
I have used a number of low and medium-quality barens (murasaki, etc.) over the years, but I always felt that my equipment lacked hon (or “authentic“) barens. I experienced the advantage of using the real thing while printing at Mokuhankan in Tokyo where Dave Bull was generous enough to allow me to try many of them from his baren ‘strongbox’. Incidentally, there was fine 8-strand baren which we all politely fought over for detail work. Anyway, I found that the hon baren’s washi ategawa allows for the printer to pull on the baren sides in order to concentrate the power in several directions plus the bamboo coil really makes a perfect combination of power and finesse. I would also recommend using the standard 13 cm-size baren as it works as an ‘outrigger’ to keep it flat on the block while printing.
“After a while, I really felt as if the natural combination of a hon baren’s coil, disc, and covering was simply an extension of my arm and fingers.”
UPDATE: So I am always “trolling” Japanese auctions (Jauce.com,Yahoo.jp, etc.) for printmaking tools. I occasionally come up with jewels- last year, I purchased 32 Kintaro-brand maru bake (printing brushes). Anyway, after about 2 years of diligently looking for barens, I hit what I consider the ‘motherload’ of barens a few weeks ago- maybe a printer died 🙁 Although not cheap (especially with all of the fee$), I was able to purchase 7 hon barens! I wonder where they came from- most are very lightly used if all and one seems very old. I believe that there are (2) 16-strand, (2) 12-strand, and (2) 8-strands along with (1)a very old-looking 6-strand(?). I am patiently waiting for Hidehiko Gotou, who is purportedly the last maker of traditional hon barens, to help me identify them.
Gotou-san said that the baren coils can last a professional printer for up to 3 generations, the ategawa for up to a decade, and as you probably know, the a takenokawa covering lasts for a print or two depending.
This fall, I had the pleasure of meetingGotou-san at the IMC 2017 conference in Manoa, Hawaii. Earlier in the year, I had ordered two kiurushibarens (here’s the link to an earlier entry)from Gotou-san and I was quite happy with them. I found Gotou-san to be a delightful person (taller than the typical Japanese) and loves printmaking as well as baren-making. He’s now 65 (doesn’t look it) and announced while in Hawaii that he now has secured an apprentice to possibly ‘pass the baton’ for future generations of printmakers. People seemed very relieved at the news.
You can see in my Youtube video below how Gotou-san twists a 4-strand (ko) which can be then formed into any number of braiding combinations. The plant-end of the shirotake (white bamboo) leaf is cut into strips, the cuticle is stripped off (see pic above) and the strips are spliced while twisted and braided at the same time.
Some barens take around 12 meters (~36 ft.) of braid to make a single baren coil, As you can see, he is blazing-fast (no, this is not sped-up!) and amazingly consistent.
Afterwards, the 4 strands are doubled (8 ko), tripled (12 ko), or quadrupled (16 ko), and sewn together to form the flat coil. It’s then fitted to the ategawa and a softer rope is laid outside the coil to minimize ‘bumping marks’ from the sides. Gotou-san is, of course, also a master at wrapping the takenokawa around the whole enchilada. The presentation of a new baren is very clean using white bamboo to wrap (which is weak, but pretty), and a photo of the coil is included with the new baren. I have heard that it takes some time to break in a new baren. An article from woodblock.com goes into some detail- see: here
I also did a re-wrap of all of my 22? barens (hoarder?) which was good practice. Plus, I uncoiled and sewed together the old hon baren (seen in the bottom right of above picture. Pro tip: to sew a baren you have to use silk thread and tie an overhand knot in each pass through the coil by tying, winding the coil a quarter turn, tying, etc. and introducing ‘eighth pie sections’ 2/3 of the way through for stability. Very little tension is what you want in order to keep the coil really flat- which is VERY important. IMO, my final product doesn’t look that bad for a gaijin– and thus, I give myself a ‘gentleman’s “B” ‘.
If you’d like to check out Gotou’s baren webpage, here is the link. He speaks a whole lot better English than I do Japanese, but there is always Google translate. He can make a baren to order (takes some months to make and receive)- and he does now have a PayPal account- I think that I made him join! 🙂
A video I took in Hawaii showing Gotou-san twisting shirodake (special white bamboo) strips into a 4-strand (ko). Amazing!
Another baren-making site that you might be interested in is by Aiyumi Ohashi, who I had the pleasure to work with in Asakusa. She was a student of Gotou-san and has a brief how-to page of her own here.
I certainly am looking forward to seeing my woodblock friends at this year’s International Mokuhanga Conference starting tomorrow!
I give a presentation on Friday morning concerning the application of apprenticeship-based learning in higher education. I think that I’m prepared… I’ll take many pics and post them asap. I just wish that I could spend the rest of the week and see the whole shebang.
This process animation is from publisher Shōzaburō Watanabe “The Process of Color-Block Printing”, printed in 1935 from an Utagawa Hiroshige (1797-1858) design “Hamamatsu”, no. 30 from the series Fifty-three Stations of the Tokaido, 1850.
I’ve always loved senjafuda.Senjafuda (in Japanese- literally “thousand shrine cards”) are taken by travelers and pilgrims where they are pasted on rafters and posts. They don’t look as junky as you might expect- much better than graffiti IMO.
Making and collecting senjafuda (some are quite spectacular) is very popular thing to do in Japan. As an artist, they’re very convenient to make- you have some left-over wood? Perfect. Some extra paper scraps? A piece here a piece there, and voilà!
I plan to use this as a demonstration and simple print for my printmaking students to start mokuhanga. The idea is to print around 200 (this test batch is only 14) to bring and give away at my IMC2017 Mokuhanga Conference talk at the University of Hawaii in late Sept. Shhh! it’s a secret surprise…
Technically, it’s obviously a 3-color print- actually 5 impressions as the red and black are over-printed. I took a hint from Mokuhankan’s print parties in Asakusa and printed the black keyblock last- that keeps the lighters colors clean! Normally, the black keyblock is printed first, but sometimes the black bleeds into the later lighter colored blocks resulting in a dingy mess.
As Thomas Edison said: “There are no rules here- we’re trying to get things done”.
Incidentally, I’m using ‘black hole’ sumi or sumi no kaori (literally “scent of carbon”?)- anyway it’s velvety-smooth-nano-vanta-fiber-crow-in-a-coalmine-event-horizon bahahalackkkk! If you’re interested in buying this glorious stuff, the only place I could find is a calligraphy shop in France of all places. See: Comptoir de Secritures
Yoshida’s prints fall within the genre of shin hanga (or “new” prints)- a 20th-century movement started well after uniyo-e’s demise and provided a Renaissance of mokuhanga that lasted from roughly from the mid 1910s until the 50s. This movement was started by Yoshijirô Urushibara (1888–1953) through his collaborations with western artists such as Frank Brangwyn. Other notable artists include Charles Bartlett, Elizabeth Keith, Tsuchiya Kōitsu, and many others. The idea of shin-hanga was to use traditional mokuhanga printing techniques in a watercolor effect- lessening the importance of line while layering color over color in a realistic, western manner often creating atmospheric depth.
In the 1920s, two primary shin-hanga artists arose: Hiroshi Yoshida and Kawase Hasui. Even though Hasui seems to get the most credit through his influence on anime, I’d put Hiroshi over Kawase Hasui any day.
True, old man Yoshida couldn’t draw people worth a nickel, claimed prints to be “self-printed”, and used zinc plates, but- Oh!, his Values, his Colors, his Lines!…
As one of the shin hanga heavies, I believe one reason Yoshida’s prints were so consistently superior was that he published his own work early on. Unlike the Hasui/Watanabe Shōzaburō team, I don’t see lulls in quality over his career.
I’ve had Blakeney’s book Yoshida Hiroshi: Print-maker since the 1990s and it’s very informative. It describes his background, travels, and a catalogue raisonné.
Plus, it has a posthumously printed woodblock fronticepiece “Court of Lions, Alhambra 1928” (I have a soft spot for the subject matter since I really liked visiting the Alhambra).
As usual, the Court of Lions is beautifully rendered and printed. The woodblock is similar to the color prints found within Yoshida’s Japanese Woodblock Printing from 1929, the classic how-to guide that I also treasure. The hand-printed examples in both books are really inspiring- especially considering the thousands of copies that must have been produced.
Well, after 200 hours of work, I seem to have finished this print before it finished me! I really don’t know the number of impressions at this point- but it’s at least 30. I have a total of 50 decent prints that I will post for sale soon. I ended up using 7 blocks- click on the image and you can see the hi-res version. Enjoy!
exploring the Japanese Alps from Hakuba (the site of the 1998 Winter Olympics). On my first day, just before the sun went down, there was a nice scene featuring alpenglow where the tops of the mountains (in this case, Mt. Goryu) caught the last of the sun’s red glow. Here’s the photo- obviously, I did a good bit of editing of the colors and scene.
I tried to capture this using shin hanga techniques.
I’m using 7 blocks- not sure of the number of impressions, but here’s an estimate:
(1) beta ban- light yellow overall (2) mountain keyblock (3) tree/frame keyblock (4) pink cloud bokashi (5) blue/neutral clouds (6) yellow bokashi in sky (7) yellow/neutral mountains (8) light gray mountain detail (9) light blue at base of far mountain (10) orange bokashi mountain detail (11) red bokashi on peak of mountain (12) mid mountain med. blue (13) mid mountain detail (14) near mountain green (15) near mountain overprint (16) near mountain detail green (17) side trees dark green (18) overprint side trees (19) middle tree warmer dark green (20) overprint middle tree warmer dark green
I plan to make 50 copies in the next few weeks. I look forward to seeing them all laid out.
Part of my time in Japan was spent producing my “Moon Rabbit” print 13.5″ x 9.5″. I’ll admit the image is creepy, but intentionally so as I like the “beauty in ugliness” so-to-speak of things. Although I do love the idyllic scenes often associated with Japanese woodblock, I feel as if I have to “cleanse my pallette” occasionally and push what I think can be done- similar to some yokai, or ghost/demon print themes. What better cutesy animal to flay than a rabbit?
This connection of the moon and the rabbit goes way back in oriental culture- we in the West see a man in the moon- others in China, Japan, Kora, Vietnam, native americans, etc., see a rabbit- resting under a tree or pounding a pestle.
The print itself consists of 6 blocks on shina plywood: (1)dark keyblock (2) red, (3) yellow, (4) slate blue, (5) background, and (6) moon details.
The color impressions are as follows: (1) dark keyblock, (2) yellow, (3) red body, (4) blue body, (5) moon details bokashi, (6) green background, (7) green background overprint, (8) bokashi top, (9) bokashi bottom, (10) red cartouche, (11) bokashi on cartouche.
Warning: This chapter contains a lot of geeky, technical information often going beyond the basics of Japanese-style printmaking. To add context, please refer to Woodblock.com’s extensive Encyclopedia entries.
I apologize in advance if you already know these things… That said, Dave Bull would regularly remind me [paraphrased]: “There are often more ways than one to do these things- you should look, listen, and try one way and then another, and then compare the results. One advantage is to think outside the box”. And he is right as evidenced by his, and others’ work and innovations. So to that end, here are a few things to consider…
Printing Brush Prep
Printing brushes (maru and hanga bake) have stiff hairs for a reason- you need the firmness to move pigment and paste around the blocks. On the other hand, a firm, stiff hair leaves a streak. Usually, mokuhanga requires smooth pigment application, so to get the best of both worlds, the tips need to be softened by a mechanical process of rubbing along a rough surface (sharkskin, ‘dragonskin’, coarse sandpaper, etc.). I was able to compare the “pre-conditioned” brushes from Matsumura and the ones at the print studio and the latter were noticeably softer. Here, I am conditioning a maru bake.
The first step: Singeing the Brush Hair
After you get a new brush, the next step is to form it (see brush profile pic above). The traditional way is to melt the hairs using a hotplate. I made my own setup to fit on top of an electric element. It’s a pretty stinky and hot process. Some folks simply trim with scissors although I find that the melting technique is a bit quicker and easier to be consistent.
The Next Step: The Old Grind
Shark skins have unique properties and are valued by craftspeople for a number of purposes. This angel shark skin features thousands of serrated tooth-like dermal denticles [see images]. 90-grit sandpaper can also work if you don’t have access- large sanding belts provide a longer surface to use. I’ve seen folks use powered machinery, but this really isn’t that much work to me.
The technique that works best for me is to:
Dampen the brush ends- I use a plate to pick up a few droplets of water.
Hold the brush flat and push from the tail to the head in long strokes in North>South>East>West degrees for about 50 strokes each direction.
Then on the side fins, vigorously grind the brushes in short, hard strokes pushing the hairs so that you can feel the hairs grab. It helps me to support the brush hairs from the back with my thumbs to make sure a strong contact against the sharkskin or sandpaper is made.
It should produce a kinda gross brown powder build-up.
If hairs protrude, it’s best to trim them with scissors rather than pulling them out since tightly-packed hairs are what’s keeping them in the brush.
When I was shown the process by experience printers in Japan, I aped what I saw. I wasn’t able to get anywhere for many hours. I did successfully rip the tip of my finger open which got me a little mad, [see pic of my finger] but this also got me thinking: I needed to rip the hairs just as I did my finger.
After doing the ~30 initial strokes to roughen up, I finally was able to feel the hairs ‘grip’ the sharkskin- really grip them.
To consider when to stop, look for a light brown color developing on the face of the brush- an almost velvety look indicative of a well-conditioned brush. I also diagnosed the softness of the tips by rubbing it against my cheek.
Problems: The middle of the brush had a slight dip. We concluded that that area had the most contact with the sharkskin.
I asked Kubota-san why the ‘dip’ in the middle and he explained to me that I should rub the brush 50 times FLAT. He said that I should rub each brush in the following directions: North, South, East, West, 45°, 135°, 225°, 315°, the on the ‘CORNERS’ of the brush in all NSEW directions top and bottom. I’m not good at math, but this is 16 angles x 50= 800 strokes. Maybe I’m lazy, but I found that the brushes didn’t need that much attention.
Here’s a short video to get a feel of it:
So, what are we looking for microscopically?There was a bit of deliberation on the question: Are the tips of the brush tapered or ‘frizzed’? Suga-san (who worked at the Adachi Institute for 5 years) and Mr. Kenichi Kubota, master printer at Adachi discussed this. I personally was at a loss with my lack of language skills to comprehend the vast majority of what was said, but I think that ‘tapered’ won out (see diagram).
Brush Jigs for Hanga Bake
Like I said earlier, I use my thumbs to keep the hairs from bending too much while rubbing against the skin (once again, this is a bit tricky to avoid fingers being ground). If you are sharpening a hanga bake (the more ‘paintbrush’ like tool), it’s advised to wrap the brush with a jig and twine so that only the tips are being ground. The printers wrapped them tightly using wooden strips with holes on both sides to keep things stable. If someone knows how to make a jig for maru bakes, please tell me.
Watching a Brush Maker on Asakusa Dori
I stumbled across a brush maker on Moto Asakusa near Ueno Park. I watched Mrs. Miyagawa work and the process looked relatively simple- I’m sure it’s a lot harder than it looks. Hanks of horse hair are cut and gathered, loop light wire through holes in the wooden brush base. The hairs are threaded into the wire loop half way and the hairs are pulled into the holes. I purchased a couple of smaller maru bake brushes and she gave me a small hanga bake. Nice lady! A more in-depth report on the shop can be found here.
A Comparison of Learning Environments: Academia and the Apprenticeship Models
I personally feel very fortunate in many ways: I have have a functional, supportive family and as a university professor, I am paid to learn, along with my teaching responsibilities. I have tried to not separate learning and teaching as much as possible.
A few opportunities came up for me via woodblock printmaking to consider my role: One was casual conversations with David Bull of Mokuhankan concerning the apprenticeship model and the other is an invitation to speak at IMC2017: the International Mokuhanga Conference in Honolulu, HI this late Sept. The subject that I chose for the conference relates to Environment and Social considerations of woodblock printmaking- certainly a broad subject with a lot of latitude. I would like to concentrate on active learning within work environments and how to incorporate elements of active learning within academia. There will be a diverse crowd: artists, craftsmen, academics, professionals, and amateurs. As a teacher and commercial artist with a diverse background, I feel that I am able to compare ways of learning which I have personally felt were the most valuable to me and my students.
A little printmaking background: Since the mid-90s, I have struggled (mainly on my own) to understand what variables equate making a strong and well-made print, both in design and execution.
If you have tried mokuhanga, you know what I mean: (1) everything seems prohibitively expensive, (2) a lot of things are hard or impossible to come by, and (3) you’re not sure of what’s right/wrong since there are very few reliable sources of direct information. Some, if not most of these challenges can’t be addressed by studying books or taking classes. I have learned enough of the art that I needed to go back to Japan to feel, smell, look, hear, and absorb the process and to work alongside others who have a more developed and varied experience. I really wasn’t conscience of what I needed, it just seemed like the natural progression of things. And I got a chance to do just that this summer. Beyond the technical issues, I also was able to rediscover and consider that…
“I find that, although I have learned a great deal as a student, I have valued work and outside of academia experiences every bit as much, if not more.”
Selected Glimpses of Learning
As I stated earlier, I worked for nearly 10 years at The Atlanta Journal-Constitution starting in 1987 and later as owner of Amoss Illustration, Inc. working with many national clients.
During that period, I learned:
to carefully chose the questions to ask
to learn to teach myself
to watch, try, then ask
to be engaged
to be patient and open to listening to authority
to witness artwork being made
that ability was rewarded
Later, I took a week-long course in Japanese woodworking, which, to some degree exposed me to a taste of what it was like to work under a master, Toshio Odate.
that, in a group, students quickly, and naturally formed a hierarchy based on skills and that there were several un-official teachers
that I had the choice to stay or leave
that the teacher only helped those students who tried all solutions first
that spaces are to be filled with action, rather than talk
that I was not very good at carpentry
And to compare, I considered my experience this spring at Mokuhankan, print studio in Tokyo.
I learned that:
although I was a ‘competent’ printer, I was around printers who were obviously consistently better and I continuously re-defined what “quality” was
it was understood that all printers had to steadily improve or they were relegated to less interesting work
a print-shop is a team effort which allows for all to contribute
you are receptive to learn whatyou need whenyou need it
This begs the question:
As an educator in a public university, the question that I am posing is: How can I/we incorporate these “apprenticeship-like” modes of “deep learning” into practice?
Not to be a “downer” here, but there are many things in academia (non-technical schools) that seem to ‘conspire’ against doing so IMO:
Class length: You have them for 3 months or so and even if they take the next class in succession, such as Printmaking II, it could be a year or more since they’ve thought about the subject. Sometimes the 2.5 hours a class period is too long and too short
Grades: Especially in the beginning of college, students often care more about grades than learning- is this high school’s fault? parents? society? What many students are looking for is a “stamp of approval” aka a diploma (which should be important). At least in art, a good portfolio is key to getting anywhere.
Class schedule- me to students: OK, guys- first we study relief printmaking, then etching, then… Some students want to continue to stick with something longer because they see its potential instead of moving on. The rationale is, of course, that they can pick it up later in their academic career to pursue what they resonate with.
“Info-dumping”. Most students want the answers and if the instructor doesn’t give them all of it, then the student doesn’t feel as if they have received what they’ve paid for.
Of all the issues above, #4 seems to be the biggest deal for me. The problem of an “info dump” is that it’s artificial, consumer-based, and not very useful for anyone. I hate to say it, but the student must first find the problem in order to appreciate the answers. Art is, in my opinion, a REALLY good place to apply an active learning process based on information given within the context of need, rather than simply laying out information.
To use an analogy: As a musician, I’ve seen many a beginner buy a very expensive instruments from square-one [I liken this to having access to all of the answers aka “info-dumping”]. Although you can say that “you can’t blame the instrument anymore and it’s now up to hard work”, so many times, the ease of getting a thing overshadows creating a thing which requires a shift of thinking from a consumer to a maker. The same can be true of information- knowing is an abstraction and by “info-dump”, it doesn’t equate understanding and I think a large part of understanding comes from the physical activity of receiving the information when you can value/need it/understand the context. I’m sure I have succumbed to these strong temptations in my life many times- maybe I’m doing it right now…
However, I feel confident in this recipe for succeeding in anything:
“Do a lot of work consistently with persistence, awareness, curiosity, and purpose.” Or, in distilled terminology:
Enough of my soapbox…
Check this out:
On apprenticeships: “In the old days that sometimes meant just hanging around sweeping the floor or helping stack wood, being a ready eager extra hand. When the carpenter was satisfied with the young students’ commitment, then he would begin to give some unimportant tasks to accomplish. Rudimentary tools and basic instruction of their use would be provided. As experience and familiarity with the tools was gained, he was allowed to approach more involved work. Generally the methods of teaching are not overt. It is said that the student must “steal” information. That is, when he has tried and failed at something, then truly ready and eager to learn, the teacher will allow an opportunity for the student to see how it should be done. But nothing is said and the student can’t just stand and watch. He must sneak a look while still busy with his designated task of the moment. Little or no pay was received until the apprentice could produce useful work.” –Takumi Carpentry
Based on what I’ve experienced- and the system that was developed over centuries, what I would add as a teacher to my academic courses are:
To point out what students do and let them explain to the class how they got there frequently and well BEFORE a critique
To let them fail without me feeling personally responsible
To use silence and work as a way to reduce abstraction
To work in front of students as much as possible in and out of class
To make another printing bench so that those who show interest can work alongside me
Can you think of any other ways of “keeping things real” as they say?
NEXT: Over the next chapters I’ll discuss what I learned while in Japan about the preparation of some materials.
Hagia Sophia (now the Ayasofya Müzesi) in Istanbul’s Old City
It has been nearly a month since I was in Japan for 30 days from May 9> June 10, 2017. After allowing myself to ‘digest’ everything, I have concluded that it was, simply, the ideal adventure in terms of learning through experiencing and doing. I did allow some time for frivolities, but for the most part, it was self-imposed work: printing, prepping tools and material, teaching a little, and further unfolding the ‘onion’ that is Japanese mokuhanga. Here’s a bit of what I’d like to share.
My 44-hour flight with Turkish Airlines had a 10-hour layover at Attatürk Airport which allowed me to get into the old town of Istanbul.
Hagia Sophia interior
One of my ‘bucket-list’ items since the early 80s was to see the Hagia Sophia– a center of Roman Byzantium built in 522CE under the emperor Justinian and converted into a mosque by the Ottomans in the mid-1400s. It felt relatively airy, yet chunky as one would imagine with construction of the time. Representational mosaics of Jesus and Mary, along with seraphim were left. Another surprise was that cats were allowed to roam free inside.
I found it pretty easy to get around Istanbul and would recommend that, despite media paranoia, get on a train, tram, or bus and enjoy the friendly folks and fascinating history.
Becoming Re-acquainted with Japan
Elementary school kids with enviable leather backpacks.
On the second leg of my trip, I arrived at Narita airport and made my way to the apartment in Taito (in the s.w. corner of the once-famous Yoshiwara red-light district).
I really enjoyed waking up to the daily life of the neighborhood where grannies swept storefronts, people stepping around pet turtles, and very young kids walking or riding their bikes on sidewalks by themselves without any apparent worries (or negative consequences).
Mokuhankan in Asakusa, Tokyo
I eagerly walked the 8 blocks south to Asakusa via the Sensō-ji temple complex, to Mokuhankan– a print studio run by long-time printer, David Bull who has been living in the Tokyo area for over 30 years. He was just as friendly and energetic as I remembered and I felt as if the 15 years since I had worked with him at his home in Ome was a week ago. FYI, from 1996, Dave became the largest conduit of information for westerners trying to learn Japanese-style woodblock printmaking and was responsible for me to turn from being a commercial illustrator to going to grad school and devoting my career to teaching and practicing printmaking.
Since last time we met, he has been quite busy building upon his vision of being a major woodblock publisher- and by all accounts- he’s succeeded with Mokuhankan!
My head swum while he gave me a tour of the compact, but well-run facilities. I was introduced to the staff- here’s a picture of the print showroom with Mr. Toshikazu Doi who is a major shin-hanga print collector who also works part-time during retirement from Asahi Beer Co.
Doi-san manning the shop
As you can see in the picture to the right, the studio’s street-front entrance leads upstairs to the print showroom on the second floor where “print parties” (hands-on educational introductions to the printing process) are held for a small fee.
The third floor is set up for production and, as promised, was one out of four printing benches that had been reserved for me for the month (note: the picture below was taken after I had a chance to mess things up or to “customize” my workspace).
Initially, it felt a bit weird to ‘fill’ a space, but as each printer came and introduced themselves and started working, I felt a little bit like a part of a print factory. I had brought enough printing equipment and pre-carved blocks to start which worked quite well in retrospect.
As you might expect, the regular staff was also a bit apprehensive (who is this new guy?, what does he want?, etc.), but, after a while, we found creative ways to goof off, we transcended language barriers with humor, and let ourselves get to know each other.
My little corner of heaven
I am ‘OK’ as a printer, but I do know my place. Everyone showed me a lot of respect through helping me see the subtleties of printing. Along with previous experiences, I did also gain a bit of understanding how people learn. In late Sept., I have been asked to present a talk at the International Mokuhanga Conference in Honolulu concerning Environmental and Social issues and I plan to talk about the introduction of the apprenticeship model in higher education later…
Anyway, everyone associated with the print studio (staff, academic visitors, public) was exceedingly nice and personable and I do miss being a part of the scene. I also certainly receiveda lotfrom everyone there and I do hope that I added to Mokuhankan in some measure.
I am going to be showing my work at the SGCI Conference in Atlanta this Saturday (3/18) in the Ellington Ballroom in the Loews Hotel during the third open portfolio sessions. Frankly, it’s my favorite part of the conference.
I hope to see you there. I will be selling my prints- either way, say you saw this entry and get your free Tanuki sticker! Session 1.
Since I live about 1.5 hours outside of Atlanta, I had no excuse to not attend the Southern Graphics International Printmaking Conference from 3/15>3/18. I have two etching pieces in the Terminus UGA show and will participate in the open portfolio in the Loew’s Hotel on Saturday (come by if you’re there).
The UGA show is particularly strange to me personally since it’s now called “Gallery 72” which is the same Atlanta Journal-Constitution’s newsroom building that I worked in as an illustrator for nearly 10 years from 1987>1996. The same layout, a bit changed. Weird, but glad it’s been re-purposed.
Anyway, this exhibit’s reception is Friday, March 17 from 6-9pm.
My Qufu print is finished! Ater proofing, I printed an edition of about 40 on Iwano washi- I will cull the odd “less than perfect” mistakes (I say that with some sorrow, but I’ve committed to offering only the best of the batch and cull even small blemishes, etc.).
In total, the print required eleven blocks and about 14 impressions. I will post a detail after they’re finished drying. Using the overlapping shin-hanga printing style was a challenge. It was interesting to print complementary colors (on opposite sides of the color wheel) to create neutrals such as shadows. This experience will certainly help me to plan the next prints.
I plan to have both the Django and Qufu prints (along with some etchings) at the SGCI conference in Atlanta.
I received something wonderfully unexpected- apparently, our intrepid mascot is a world traveller. A past art student of mine, Caroline Welsch carried a Tanuki Prints sticker to Paris on her trip and was nice enough to position him, well, you know where this is.
Tanuki is good luck, that is, if you have a drink with him, Caroline!
FYI, for every print purchased, you’ll receive a Tanuki Prints sticker- I’d love to see him travel from each and every corner of the globe!
I know he’ll be in Japan come May.
For more interesting facts about the actual and mythical Tanuki, or the Japanese racoon-dog, click here
So, after 10 carved blocks, and several more color impressions, here is a proof of the Qufu block. I am pleased with it, the colors are more vibrant than you see here. The first two impressions were the color gradation in the house exterior printed twice, then a shadow, the interior shadow, then the pavement, then the yellow sunshine, then another shadow block, the interior green, interior yellow, interior red, then the interior shadow bokashi. I hope to start the actual printing on Iwano washi soon- maybe next week!
I started proofing my next print- “Qufu” (see right). I split the key block (outlines) into two blocks- one black sumi the other background key block is a gradation from dark blue upward to dark brown. With these proof prints, I will then use inks and brush to simulate and anticipate the additional colors. I plan to use my earlier impression tests to -try- to be as efficient as I can with the coloring while keeping in mind that the more colors, the more blocks.
It’s a real puzzle to consider the resulting combinations of overlapping colors- plus, I know that I’ll use at least 2 gray shadow blocks (nezumi-ban) in addition to the color ones. I’m trying to follow my observations from shin-hanga prints in the fact that the blacks in the key block won’t show as much contrast since it will be surrounded by dark greens, reds, yellows. The background key block will be a shift from warm to cool color blocks, so I am hoping that things will work together. One thing that I have learned is that you can’t proof too much- well, for me right now. Today’s term: “nishiki-e” meaning multi-color prints.
To start the process of creating new prints, I make my own cherry plywood. The process starts with selecting wood that has little figuration and no ‘sap-wood’ and gluing the two 1/4″ thin cut cherry around a birch core with waterproof (Titebond III) glue. After letting the glue dry for 24 hrs. under clamp pressure, I wet-sand with #400 and #800-grit sandpaper and let them dry. This raises the grain just like when they get during printing. After dry, I sand again, trim the sides, and buff to a very smooth and shiny surface with a wool bonnet and polishing rouge. The result is a very shiny block that prints smoothly. Only 10 more blocks to prep before things really get started…
I taught in China almost 3 years ago and had the pleasure
of visiting the Kong (Confucius) family compound in Qufu that originally dates from 500BC (I’m not sure how old this structure is- nowhere near that, I’m sure).
I’ve always been a sucker for doorways and framing, so I thought I’d try my hand at a shin hanga-style small print. The image on the left is a photo after waiting for the tourists to pass- I was attracted to the worn smooth paving stones and rough weathered wood. The image on the right is an ink drawing on vellum. Not sure what to call this print yet, but I’m sure it will reveal itself to me. In terms of printing, I hope to utilize some goma-zuri (pigment without paste) to allow for a mottled look in the stones. I’m also thinking about splitting this keyblock into two: one dark foreground, one light background. I don’t know- like a good novel, I plan to keep “reading” to find out how this ends…
Enter a caption Enter a captionI know the title sounds bad and I should have more respect for my heroes . However, this is an animation assembled from a hand-printed progression in Hiroshi Yoshida’s “Japanese Wood-block Printing” from 1939. I’m fortunate to have a copy of this along with his son’s two manuals. Hiroshi Yoshida was a pioneer of the shin-hanga movement and I find his examples very instructive as far as layering transparent colors. The man especially loved grays and browns which is a bit surprising for me. Each of these four progressive plates have an average of 3-4 colors per page for a total of 15 impressions:
Black outline; outline block (I).
Blue sky; sky block (VI).
Brown sail and boat; sail block (II)
Yellow on water; water block (VII).
Indigo reflection on yellow; reflection block (IV).
Subdued purple gradation for the sky from bottom upward. The sky block (VI) repeated.
Carmine to heighten the light; the red block (VIII).
Indigo gradation from top downward on the reflection. The reflection block repeated.
Indigo gradation on water from either side; the water block (VII) repeated to kill the red where unnecessary.
Brown gradation on sails from top downward; the sail block (II) repeated.
Brown over the boat; the boat block (III).
Indigo for water to heighten the light in the upper part, and also perforated in the lower part; the indigo block (IX).
Plate IV (Finished)
Indigo gradation from the top of the sky. The sky block (VI) repeated.
Grey-block (V) to darken the masts and give a shade to the boats.
Indigo gradation from the bottom upward on the water. The water block (VII) repeated for this purpose. A baren of sixteen-strand cord was used to produce the horizontal marks on the water.
At the end of the progression, he also includes a night version (left).
Don’t take this the wrong way- I think this guy’s junk looks fanfrickentastiqué!
For Christmas, I shamelessly ordered for myself two hand-made barens from Mr. Hidehiko Gotou (below), from Kanagawa, Japan. Barens are the traditional “hand
printing pads” that a printers use, along with elbow grease, instead of a mechanical press. Mr. Gotou is the only craftsman in the world who still produces real hand-made barens. The one I am holding in my right hand (to your left) with a white dot is a 8-strand coil baren, and the other is a 16-strand bamboo coil baren. I’m already using the heck out of them. The coils are hand-braided out of bamboo strips- very time consuming work. I ordered them from Mr. Gotou and after 2 months of labor,
he sent them to me before receiving payment. I was impressed by his craftsmanship and his trusting nature.
Below is a detail of the inner coil which is usually not visible without its outer bamboo leaf covering (takenokawa) that holds the coil (shin- see below) along with the black back pad (ategawa). Gotou-san has a website (in Japanese) if you want your own- just tell him that I sent you!
No, this is not ‘art’ per se. In woodblock there are so many, many variables- really too many to list here! So I have decided to winnow my pigment choices to 3 and traditional sumi. Also, in order to establish a library of resources for coming prints, I created this first of several color swatch charts based on 7 colors using 3 primary watercolor tubes: Windsor Yellow, Windsor Blue, and Permanent Rose from which I mixed 3 secondary colors: green, orange, purple, and 1 neutral gray. The right side and bottom are pure single impressions. The lighter horizontals were printed first, then the darker verticals. I hope to do others: dark on light, dark on dark. I am hoping that these will be a good source of matching colors to order! Either way, it was good printing practice.
Below is an animated .gif I put together in Photoshop from images of a simple woodblock, Castle of Himeji, by Hiroshi’s son, Toshi Yoshida 1911-1995. From what I can tell, the impressions are as follows: (1) black keyblock, (2) light yellow sky (3) dark yellow foreground (4) med. gray architecture (5) blue/green sky, foliage (6) light gray details in sky, shadows (7) med warm green> dark cool green bokashi for trees. Note the small details, like the blue on roofs, subtle gray shadows on houses and trees. I hope to be able to print as cleanly and be as efficient in the color use someday.
Toshi Yoshida, Castle of Himeji, ca 1950. Courtesy of Japanese Arts Gallery
“Django Reinhart” 11-color moku hanga woodblock 6″ x 8″, 2016
This is the first of my Musician Series and is hand-printed using traditional moku-hanga techniques on mulberry paper made by Ichibei Iwano- Japan’s papermaking Living Treasure. This 6″ x 8″ print of the famous Gypsy guitarist Django Reinhart (the name “Django” is written in the hiragana cartouche in the upper right) was printed from 8 cherry blocks requiring 11 impressions. Domestic shipping is $2 and is packed in a hard protective sleeve along with a free Tanuki Prints sticker. Stay tuned for more fabulous musicians in the set!