Printmaking Editions

Photo Etching. 

So I have been making limited edition prints with the photo etch process, using ink to individually create ‘pages’ for an unbound book. The process is a beautiful way of using the photographic medium in an alternative way. Each print is different, a one off and together they seem to be asking different questions and creating a more intimate experience for the viewer, somewhere between a book, family album and postcard. The book will be finished off with written pages hand made in letterpress.  This has taken two months so far and the finishing letterpress pages should take another month to complete, watch this space.

Fices Well - Resolving work

SX 578759

Heading to the Well I realise that water is a mystery to be investigated, standing with my mother, our feet sucking down into the sulphurous ground, cows and sheep moving at the edges of my vision and the cold, rushing around us in great gusts sticking my hair to my lashes, making me blind, again. We reach the well, this is the third time now, and the water and mud has taken over, no patches of dry to skip between, so it is a slog across this small part of the moor. The story keeps bringing me back, the idea of healing and restoration is of interest, from the scare that takes me back years, and the coincidence of the photographic profession in the same year. The idea, and reality, that one can go blind from being stressed, blind from a feeling not a tangible event but an accumulation over many years, incrementally stressing the body and mind until effects are literally seen. It was a close call and the fears and tests to check worsening of the condition have finished now. 

Photography was my healer, and is, this well is representative of a journey from there, past, to here, now. The Well water is the photograph, the bog, pathless and forbidding, but an end point from which to manoeuvre  to further moments that seem metaphorical. Mother came along at my request but was this a mistake? She has been on many journeys with me, and against me, but this one is mine alone, experiencing physicality and possible losses is an internal subjective climb.

The Well is encircled, a wall built by prisoners, and I climb inside and lay low out of the wind bend over to collect the water and climb back out to leave. Mum is standing just across from me in the field, in the bog just looking into the middle distance, what does she make of our walks? I Photograph her then call out, she laughs but seems thoughtful, she never talks of her own feelings or thoughts, so I am left to wonder. There is a deep sadness in her, it has always been a feature but it is quite well hidden apart from these cursory junctures, I am aware that she too went to Art College and that she quit it before I was born, recently she told me that she too had also used photography and liked the darkroom, this is new information.  I am as blind to her.

Going Home

I walk. I Photograph. Revisiting my childhood home this week, walking around, driving, looking at places still familiar, somehow different - I had changed more than these places but either way they were uncomfortable and past - looking at them as photographs, framed over and over in the mind remembrances. Latent. The feeling evoked by these places is strange, every person I see and wonder if  i’d known them before, this makes me uneasy. The snow adds to the dislocation.

Using Format