Getting ready for an intensive print-making workshop this week exploring monotypes. Opened these two boxes of oils, inks and tools that I have not touched in ten years. Might as well have been left in my cabinet by some long gone ancestor- I only had the vaguest connection to the contents, like on a cellular level, imbedded deep in my DNA. I could not remember why or how I had amassed this particular cache of colors and tools, what had informed my choices… None the less, seeing the materials, holding the etching and carving tools in my hand, smelling the oils, stirred a familiar passion. Even reading the names of the colors, crimson alizirin, mars violet, and my old friend veridian, was enticing.
Can’t wait to feel the buttery lushness of the inks, rhythmically roll out the plates and crank the heavy wheels of the press again. The choreography of the process draws me in completely. We’ll see if all the steps still come together for me… Don’t think it will matter though, just dancing the dance again will be grand.