Russian Doll

The print I was proofing in 'Testing, testing' is now finished. It's a very small edition which I will be offering for the first time when Stoneflower Studio opens for York Open Studios in April 2018.

'Russian Doll'
Japanese watercolour woodblock
Image size approx 9.5 x 18 cm

I enjoyed this exercise and I'm pleased with the shading; I think it successfully gives a rounded effect to the doll. The handpainted details have also been carefully varied in strength to add to the illusion of depth. The nature of both the moku hanga printmaking technique with its shading (bokashi) and the handpainted elements mean that each print is unique, making this a 'varied edition'.

Testing, testing

I've started my first new work for a long time. If you follow me on social media you might know I had an accident at the end of last summer that wiped me out for quite a while. As well as the practical issues of being unable to walk for several months, the overwhelming tiredness of a body throwing all its resources into healing meant that I completely lost my printmaking mojo.

But now I'm back, and as I have found I am rather rusty this seems like a perfect time to talk about proofing and testing new prints and correcting mistakes. A lot of art blogs present the perfect finished article - so for a change I'm going to show you what goes wrong.

To make life hard for myself, my first new print is a Japanese watercolour woodblock (moku hanga), which demands quite a high level of technical proficiency. Maybe I should have eased myself back in with a single colour linocut.....

Anyway, I had in my mind's eye an image of a wooden Russian doll. I wanted to use the moku hanga shading to create the rounded shape and shiny varnished surface of the doll, as if I were painting it in watercolour, but also wanted to include the folk art hand painted decoration. My plan is to add the line detail to the finished and dried prints with a brush so that each print is unique, just as each hand painted doll is unique.

I have two sets of Russian dolls. I have had them so long I can't even remember where I got them, though it is likely the older and larger one was a gift from my merchant seaman brother who used to bring me back a doll from every country he visited when I was a small child. That makes it nearly 50 years old which explains why the outer doll is so faded.







My design is a sort of composite of all these dolls, and was transferred onto six different blocks for carving and printing. I printed up four test prints, each of which had different things wrong with it, which can be frustrating but is also the point of proofing.

From a distance these look like a good start, but when you get close...... oh so many mistakes....

Lets's start with the registration, which means lining up the paper on each successive block correctly so that the different elements match. These two sections are meant to lie next to each other, not have a gap between them. Oops.
The tricky bit here is working out what went wrong. Japanese woodblocks are lined up using kento slots cut in the wood. It should be foolproof, but pushing the paper half a millimetre more firmly into one slot than the other can create distortions of several millimetres at the other end of the block. Once I'd worked out what was going on with this block I wrote a note on it to remind myself to drop the paper into place a certain way in future.


There's no excuse for the registration mess here though, with two layers being printed out of alignment. It's one block being used for successive layers so this is purely user error and sloppiness on my part. Must do better.

This granulating effect is caused by insufficient nori (rice flour) paste being blended with the watercolour. It can be used deliberately to get an interesting texture but is not what I want here where I'm trying to depict smooth varnished wood. Must be more careful next time.

The mix on this print is more successful and the shading is working quite well to create a 3D effect (notice the highlight towards the left). I want this effect to be stronger though, so on the finished prints I will start with an even lighter layer and build up the shading to even darker red. This test print used about three or four bokashi (shading) layers; I probably need to do six or seven.

These marks around the image are where the watercolour has strayed onto the surrounding block and been picked up on the print. There are various ways to tackle it:
1. Carve away more wood, especially if particular spots keep causing problems.
2. Clean up more thoroughly around the inked area before printing.
3. JUST BE MORE BLOOMING CAREFUL.

A quick test run of the hand painted details went well, so now it's time  to prepare the paper and mix up a new batch of nori paste, ready for printing tomorrow. Watch this space.

UPDATE: the finished print can be seen in this blog post.

Guilt free shopping

I'm writing this post while my 2017 Red Nose Day print is still being sold, but I will not publish it until after that fundraising as I don't want to muddy the waters.

My 2015 fundraising print, an edition of forty at £10 each, sold out in six days raising £400 for Comic Relief. This year's print is a larger edition of fifty and the individual prints cost more at £15 so while this one has not yet sold out* it has already raised much more money in the two weeks it has been on sale than the 2015 print did. Hurrah!
*see bottom of post for a fantastic update

I am of course thrilled, but once more, as in 2015, I have been heard to mutter "Blimey, I wish all my prints sold this quickly". Why don't they? These special edition prints are priced normally - so why are people so eager to buy these but not my other work? Don't get me wrong, people do buy my other prints (thank you kindly) but hardly in the sell-out rush I've experienced with both of these charity editions.

Well yes of course, the obvious answer is that these are for charity, but my question is WHY should that make such a difference and what is actually going on here?

Let's think about this. The buyer pays the same money and receives the same quality of item. The only difference is that their money has gone to a charity instead of to the artist. The logical corollary is that if the money is going to the artist then that actively makes the purchase less attractive. EXCUSE ME?? Does this mean people feel better about buying art if the artist isn't paid? That the idea of the purchase price going to the person who actually did the work and paid for the materials is positively off-putting?

Surely that can't be it. (But if this is what is happening then please allow me to be a bit upset).

I prefer to give the lovely buying public the benefit of the doubt and I refuse to believe the issue is people begrudging artists. Perhaps then it's that these (non) buyers are begrudging themselves. Perhaps they feel they cannot normally justify spending money on something as indulgent, fun and joy-bringing as art, but if they know the money is going to charity then their consciences are salved and they can give themselves permission. If that is the case then please let me put your mind at rest....

You are doing a Very Good Thing when you buy from a small independent maker, shop or gallery.

You are keeping us afloat, allowing us to continue and keeping the world varied and interesting for everyone. You are preserving individual creativity and craftsmanship and holding back the tide of high street blandness and for that society thanks you. You are having a direct real impact on the lives of the people you buy from and they will love you for it. You have every right to feel a warm fuzzy glow about treating yourself, or a loved one, to that thing you wanted: no guilt required. In the right sidebar of this blog (you might have to scroll down a bit) you will see the logo of a great initiative called Just a Card which was set up to remind buyers that every single purchase you make from small independents, even 'just a card', helps us to survive. Click on the image to be taken to the campaign's site where the founder, Sarah Hamilton, will explain it all much better than I can.

Thank you for reading and if it puts a spring into your step and a lightness in your heart the next time you are out shopping then my job is done.

Update: the last print sold on Red Nose Day itself, 24th March, a couple of days after I wrote the above. The £750 raised is enough to pay for 300 malaria nets, or vaccinate nearly 190 children in Africa against five deadly diseases. It will save lives. It was all totally, utterly worth it.

Ready to learn

A couple of Sundays ago our minister preached his sermon on the subject of my printmaking workshops. No he did, really. Yes I know he said it was about 'discipleship' but it was really about my workshops. I could tell. He talked about the notion of apprenticeship and how we seem to have lost the idea that some things take time to perfect and learn. We expect to be able to get things right first time and get frustrated, even feel like failures, when that doesn't happen.

He mentioned the example of a specialist glass blower who is seeking an apprentice in anticipation of his own retirement in ten years time, because it will take that long to train someone to replace him, and I was reminded of the long apprenticeships served by moku hanga printmakers in Japan. His words made me think of those TV talent show contestants who, when interviewed before their chance-in-a-lifetime audition, tell us that their preparation has consisted of dreaming of this day and visualising success. Rarely do they mention practising, or tuition, or starting at the bottom of the business and putting in hours. Some even confess that their only prior audience has been their bedroom mirror. They have no comprehension that the apparent effortlessness of their favourite performers comes from hours and hours of practice, and when it turns out that 'putting their heart and soul into it' isn't enough, they are crushed.

When did we start losing the concept of learning? Why do people expect to be able to do things immediately? Such unrealistic expectations can bring only disappointment and they are also insulting to those who have developed their skills through application and hard work. TV 'reality' shows (which are anything but reality) must of course must take some responsibility. Within the leisure publishing market, the art books, DVDs and magazines which promise you can 'Learn Portrait Painting in a Day' or 'Master Watercolour in Five Easy Lessons' don't half make it hard for art tutors to manage their students' expectations!

I completely understand the wish to have an exquisite masterpiece to take home at the end of a workshop, but too often it seems that people see a day class as a one off event, during which they will tick another skill off their list, rather than the start of a learning process. A few years ago two women booked onto one of my intermediate watercolour still life workshops having never previously picked up a paintbrush. On arrival they breezily announced they hadn't bothered with the introduction classes because 'it can't be that hard'. Perhaps you can imagine how my heart sank at that point. We soldiered on, and they got lots of careful attention (what a good thing I keep my class sizes so small). Finally as the day wore on, one of the two pointed at one of my own paintings and demanded "I've done everything you told me, so why doesn't mine look like THAT?". Thinking she was joking, I laughed. Then the look of thunder on her face told me she meant it. I stopped laughing and replied "Because I've been doing it for thirty years". She was not happy. Clearly my tuition was at fault and I had withheld vital information. She had been tricked. There could be no other explanation for her failure to replicate the work of an experienced professional artist within five hours of her first encounter with watercolour.

Now that of course was an extreme example and mercifully most students arrive with more realistic ideas. At printmaking workshops it is perfectly normal for people to overestimate what can be achieved in a day or weekend simply because they don't know how long it takes to carve a plate, but some tactful counselling at the beginning of the day usually results in an achievable project being chosen and all ends well. There is no shame in that; there is no harm having ambition and how could you be expected to  know how long it will take if you've never tried? The important thing is getting your head round the idea that a class is the starting block, not the finish line. It doesn't matter if you don't produce an exhibition standard piece on your first day; that is not the goal. What does matter is that by the end of the day you are nearer to being a printmaker than you were when you started.

I hope that the majority of people who come to my classes see them as the start of a long term discovery of a skill which will grow with practice. There will be mistakes and duds because that is how we learn. The torn up print is not a failure; it is a necessary stage in the process. In the words of our minister's sermon, being ready for this journey means being in a place where the question is not 'will I get it right?' but 'am I willing to learn?'.

If you think you are in that place you can find out about my workshops by clicking the tab above or on the link in the sidebar.

You can read some feedback from my students by clicking here

Red Nose Day 2017

or: how to save lives without even leaving home.

Comic Relief is a stonkingly wonderful charity which helps people overcome problems most of us will never have to face because of our sheer good luck in being born in an affluent, temperate country which has plenty of food,water and health care and is not being torn apart by war. Meanwhile, some folk here in the UK, having won that bit of life's lottery, still have to cope with poverty and other horribly unfair social disadvantages; Comic Relief helps with those too.

Once every two years Comic Relief stages Red Nose Day which is a time for people to raise money by doing anything which raises a smile. This is why I love and support Comic Relief; it doesn't nag or browbeat or send you on a guilt trip. It just makes people feel good and happy and join together, and once you've sown that seed of love and community, then generosity, empathy and compassion are not far behind.

In 2015 I produced a special limited edition print of a hare wearing a red nose which raised £400 for Red Nose Day. (I've written about how this came about in my blog before). It had been such a success I wanted to do another one but by November 2016 I still hadn't had a good idea for a subject. I wanted it to be another animal wearing a red nose and I wanted it to work as a single plate print in dark grey so it would match the original hare print.

Now it so happens that my amazing friend Emma Mitchell (aka silverpebble) is one of the co-editors of Mollie Make's special Red Nose Day Crafternoon edition which is in itself an utterly brilliant collaboration of talented craft folk and just keeps on giving; the sale of the magazine raises money initially and then the fantastic ideas and projects contained within help people raise even more (and HAVE FUN). It also happens that in November I was at Emma's house being taught silverclay modelling as part of her inaugural Making Winter retreat. (These amazing weekends involve spending two whole days learning new skills, creating lovely things, making friends, eating delicious food and finding the good stuff in our cold dark winter. Emma has even written an accompanying book which will be out this autumn). But I digress and this rambling story is going somewhere I promise. That morning at Emma's house the post arrived with a padded bag which got Emma very excited. She opened it and revealed the top secret prototype for Peggy the Felt Dachshund.

Peggy as she appeared in the Crafternoon magazine three months later.

Instantly the decision was made.

• A dachshund would look lovely in a red nose.
• He would tie in with other Comic Relief projects.
• There is a lot of dachshund love in my Twitter feed. 
• He would look good in grey.
• He could be made the same height as my hare print so people can hang them next to each other.

It was so obvious I really didn't know why I hadn't thought of it before.

So here he* is, proudly 'Cutting a Dash' in his smart red rose.

'Cutting a Dash' findraising linoprint
 image size 18 x 10 cm

A limited edition of just 50 handpulled linoprints costing £15 each including free UK delivery, every penny of which will go to Comic Relief. He is available until 31 March 2017 or until he sells out, whichever comes first. For £15 you can (for example) pay for six anti-malaria nets and save the lives of six children AND you get a limited edition print delivered free to your door. I can't see any downsides. Can you?

IF YOU'D LIKE TO FIND OUT MORE OR ORDER PLEASE CLICK HERE.

*it has been tactfully pointed out to me by a reader of this blog that my dachshund looks suspiciously like a girl. This is a good point. I am going to have to come to terms with this and get used to her new gender identity....

Comic Relief, registered charity 326568 (England/Wales)

SC039730 (Scotland)

Life Drawing (titter ye not)

Life drawing, you know ....where a model sits in front of everyone in the nude... the premise of so many hi-lar-ious sitcom scenes, sketches and tv adverts. A proper giggle, isn't it? Well, no actually, which is why an email I got several years ago shocked me so much.

To begin at the beginning, drawing from life, that is, drawing or painting anything that is actually there in front of you, is undoubtedly harder than drawing from a photo; your brain has to convert a 3D experience into two flat dimensions, the slightest change in viewpoint will drastically alter perspective, and sometimes your subject will wilt, wither or move in the wind.

Within this, drawing a portrait of a person is even harder. An obvious issue is that your subject probably won't stay still. A definite wriggle is not such a problem; the danger is the slow and subtle slump. I once attended a class where we were instructed to paint a portrait one feature at a time, with no drawing and, importantly, no initial mapping out of the body and face. Unfortunately we realised after two hours that our (expensive and supposedly professional) model had been slowly turning in her seat throughout the session, and as a result the entire class' output was an exercise in Cubism with every portrait depicting features and limbs painted from different angles.

On top of these practical problems are the additional psychological hurdles; we all know it is Rude to Stare. New students of portrait painting find it surprisingly hard to examine another person's face in calculating and objective detail. And if it is hard to study someone's face, consider then what taboos we come up against when dealing with Life Drawing: that all encompassing euphemism which means, essentially, drawing or painting a fellow human being with no clothes on. (NB for it to be Life Drawing it has to be the model who has no clothes on. If the artist is the one with no clothes on then that is just weird and doesn't, as far as I'm aware, have a specific name.)  We are all carrying around several thousand years of conditioning that, unless you work in a very limited and specific set of professions, you Do Not Look at Someone's Bits.

Pile all these issues together and a Life Drawing session can be as exhausting as a gym workout. The levels of concentration are tremendous and are multiplied by the brain trying to do mental back flips and normalise the idea of a complete stranger lying naked in a contorted pose in a brightly lit room full of clothed people who are (hopefully) not there for sexual titillation and without anyone admitting it's weird. I find it interesting to observe the behaviour of artists in a life class; people often become either exaggeratedly studious (I am a serious artist), excessively casual and jokey (I'm not uncomfortable AT ALL) or affect an other-worldly lack of awareness (model, what model?). On one occasion I saw an artist cross the room by stepping over the prone model as if she were an inanimate object. I can understand how his coping mechanisms led him to do it but it was still bloody rude. Yes you get better at coping and less unsettled the more sessions you attend, but the dichotomy is that you really cannot assume a level of clinical detachment without losing the emotional involvement that is necessary to produce art. In order to produce a portrait you can't stop responding to the model as a living, breathing.....naked... human being.

This is why I sigh heavily when I see yet another tv sketch set in a life class, but that irritation is tame compared to the email I mentioned. In it I was asked to act as the tutor for a new venture offering 'Leisure' life classes. On further enquiry these turned out to be hen parties where tipsy women would 'draw' a nude male model. Hysterical, no? When I expressed concerns that this cheapened art and was disrespectful of the models I was told that they were fully aware of what was involved, that no-one was making them do it and that they would be paid the going rate. Now where have I heard those arguments before? Needless to say I didn't accept the booking.

(Oh and by the way... if you have read this far and think I was overreacting and being prudish, please substitute 'stag parties', 'tipsy men' and 'nude female model' in the previous paragraph. Maybe then it doesn't sound such a jolly jape.)

To end then, if you are an artist, or indeed a model, who takes part in life sessions, I'd be interested to hear your thoughts. (Would you have taken that booking?). If you are an artist who has never tried life drawing then DO IT - it's a fantastic challenge and will shake up your work. If you are an art lover, then I hope that having read this you will see nude studies in a different light and perhaps have a refreshed appreciation of what goes into them.

All illustrations are my own pencil and watercolour sketches made in short pose life sessions.

Offset printing - transferring a design to multiple blocks

When creating a relief print with two or more blocks, one of the first challenges is successfully transferring the design onto each block so that together they will create a image. Perhaps the most obvious way of doing this is to take a tracing of your design and then use carbon paper to copy it onto each block. There can be drawbacks with this method though. For one thing you need to be very precise; if you draw 1 mm outside the line on one block and 1 mm inside it on another, you end up with a difference of 2 mm which can be enough to make a real mess of your print.

But sometimes you just won't have a  master drawing which is definite enough for you to use it to make each block. Perhaps you have drawn your original design straight onto your block, or perhaps you started with a traced design but have adapted and changed it as you carved that first block. This is where the offset printing technique of transferring a design comes into its own. Here's a quick guide to how it works with a woodcut print.

After carving the first block, it is inked up quite thickly (probably more than you would do for an actual print). You don't need to worry too much about stray bits of ink on the cleared away parts.

This is then printed onto thin paper (eg newsprint). This can be done quickly and easily by hand with a baren when using such thin paper.

Immediately, while the ink is still wet, this thick gungy print is laid face down on your second block. (Make sure it is lined up exactly the same way as your first one). The back is rubbed hard with the baren to transfer the ink onto the second block.

And now you have an exact replica of your first block reproduced on the second one.

From here you can start marking where you want to cut the second block.

In this example, which will be a two block print, I have carved the lighter coloured block first. This provides the structure of the image and the second darker block will be the added details. Sometimes it will be more appropriate to carve the dark second block first, when this is the one with the main features of the image while the lighter colour is looser background stuff like water or foliage. In 'Black Swan and Cygnets' (below) I carved the black block first and then used that to tell me where the lighter parts should be on the second block. When making the actual print, the second lighter block becomes the first block, and the dark block carved first becomes the second block. (Confused? Welcome to the world of printmaking!)

Now that you've got all your blocks carved - there might be more than two - you can tweak and refine them as you make proof prints. As with all carving of printmaking blocks, it's good to start off with simplified shapes and then develop the details; you can always carve away more but you can't put bits back.

Four Seasons: a collagraph series (Part Two - how they were made)

In an earlier post I wrote about how this series of collagraphs came about and I promised to write in more depth about how they were actually made, so here it is.

As with most of my prints, this one started off sketched out on the back of an A4 piece of paper from the scrap paper drawer. (This disorganised scruffiness is why people who ask to see my sketch books are often disappointed.) Actually I suppose it really started in my head, appearing there unbidden as these things often do, and the trick was to keep it there until I had a chance to draw it. I can't be sure but I have a lingering fear that a lot of my best ideas have vanished like mist burning off in the sun. I will never know.

Once drawn out I then transferred the image onto a piece of mountboard which I would use as my plate. I flipped the image so that the print would come out the same I way I had originally created it. You might think that for a scene like this that doesn't really matter, but it does to me....

From sketch to plate

Now it was time for the fun part, sticking and cutting and messing about with collage. Well maybe not so much of the messing about. It is fun, but there is rather more to it than making a simple collage. As well as the shapes and texture I also have to consider the way different surfaces will take up the ink. I have to think ahead to the practicalities of inking up the plate and also remember that those parts most prominent on the plate will recede on the print. As with all printmaking, everything has to be done in reverse, like living in Alice's Looking Glass world.

Once complete the plate needs to be varnished on both sides

Inking up was a slow job, carefully applying the ink to different areas and then wiping away to get the right amount of coverage for each section. Some parts needed to be left with a good coverage, some needed to be cleaned and polished almost to whiteness. Each season in this series of four prints required not only different colours but also its own inking and wiping order. I made swatches at the end of each initial printing session so I could replicate the colours for subsequent ones and I also made notes in my print 'recipe book'.

Applying ink and then wiping and burnishing it

And then it was time to print. A registration sheet laid on the printing press is always useful to centre the plate on your paper, but for this print it was absolutely vital. The plate is in two parts and these had to be placed in exactly the same relation to each other on every print.

The registration sheet (left) and 'Winter' ready to print (right)

Damp prints are taped to boards so that they dry flat - seen here 'Autumn' and 'Summer'

Collagraph plates are fragile and I knew I was asking a lot of this one to survive printing editions of four different prints. Sure enough, some over enthusiastic cleaning at the end of one printing session ended up with the tree trunk tearing. Aaagh! You might think I could simply tape a cocktail stick on the back to hold it together, but this would make enough of a ridge to make the plate unusable. Any repair has to be as flat as possible. I glued the torn edges together and then carefully applied a single piece of paper to the back before varnishing the area again. The join will show on prints but as the tree trunk was textured anyway I think I got away with it.

Emergency repairs

And finally the four seasons were complete. A framed set will be exhibited at the Yorkshire Museum of Farming from 15th - 30th October 2016 and unframed prints are now available in my shop.

Four Seasons: a collagraph series (Part One - the idea)

Since Easter I have been one of a small group drawn from York Printmakers who have jointly been acting as Artist in Residence at the Yorkshire Museum of Farming. This wonderful place, just a mile or so from my studio, is home to (as you would expect) an extensive collection of farming machinery and equipment through the ages, but also livestock (from bees and ducks to sheep and pigs), the magical Danelaw Viking Village (regularly inhabited by re-enactors or thronging with groups of school children), a small Roman Fort, a Tudor house, a couple of prehistoric round houses and, to round it all off, the Derwent Light Railway.

The Danelaw Viking Village

It is also, conveniently, in the same village as the splendid Hawthorn Printmakers who made my press and who very generously loaned us a smaller version to use during our time at the Museum.

Our base has been a small pod in the middle of the huge barn which houses the Four Seasons Gallery over two floors. With glass walls on either side we have become one of the exhibits as we work at our printmaking. Visitors sometimes venture in to speak to us and ask questions; more peer in curiously from the outside at the strange captive artists. (None have yet banged on the glass but it wouldn't have surprised me if someone did).

The pod has been equipped to recreate the
 natural habitat of the shy and elusive printmaker...

The exhibits in the gallery take the visitor through the farming year, with audio commentary that is triggered by movement sensors as people walk around from season to season. Working in the pod we hear this commentary over and over again. You might think this would drive us mad.... and I must confess I have heard all I want to hear about the development of the plough... but after a while it became reassuringly consistent and the repetition echoed the theme of the gallery: the unchanging and reliable cycle of the farming year, a pattern which has remained largely unaltered down the centuries.

I initially planned a collagraph print of a countryside scene in the colours of autumn and harvest. As I began making the plate, however, I wondered if I could use the same plate to produce an image for each season. The fixed shape and texture of the plate would represent the enduring landscape, while changes to colours would reflect the passage of time through the year.

Creating the collagraph plate

This was an ambitious idea; collagraph plates are fragile and this was asking a lot of one assemblage of card and glue (and indeed I did have a torn tree trunk disaster which needed surgery with pva glue, backing paper and varnish) but I think I pulled it off. (That's a printmaking pun there. I promise if you're a printmaker it's hilarious.)

details of 'Autumn' and 'Spring'

The finished prints will debut at our end-of-residency exhibition at the Museum starting on 15th October 2016. More information here.

Update: there is now a further blog post explaining and demonstrating in greater depth how these collagraph prints were created. You can find it here.

Here today, gone tomorrow - the liberating impermanence of Instagram Stories

I have to admit I had fallen out of love with Instagram since the recent change to a non-chronological timeline and had pretty much stopped looking at it. All that has changed in the last few days with the arrival of 'Stories'. I have been completely won over and now visit Instagram several times a day.

If you haven't yet discovered this new feature, launched last week, Stories are made up of photos and (very) short video clips, uploaded to Instagram without the usual panoply of captions and hashtags. There are no filters or cropping; the aim is for honesty and spontaneity. You can cheat a little by uploading an existing photo or video from your phone but only if it is less than a day old. Viewers can't comment or like; the images are simply there to be briefly enjoyed because (and this is the important bit) after 24 hours they vanish, like a mayfly. New images are added to the end of the story reel while the older ones at the beginning disappear.

I was highly sceptical when I first heard about this but within hours I was converted. Not only do I enjoy the tiny glimpses of others' non-styled, non-filtered and non-curated days but I quickly realised how perfectly this suits documenting the daily life in an artist's studio.

A still from a 7 second clip of cutting out a collagraph plate.

I am happy to make demonstration videos showing my methods, but they are a lot of work and they have to be (or at least appear) perfect. I don't mind people seeing the less perfect bits - I am told my workshop students get a lot of help from seeing me make mistakes (or perhaps they are just being kind) - but I would hate the scruffy part of my work to be permanently archived on the internet. These ephemeral collections of little clips which come with no commentary or narrative offer a wonderful licence to share without fear.

So now I am regularly adding snapshots or a few seconds of video of what I am doing. There is no need for me to record an explanation, think up tags or even worry if the finished piece will be up to scratch. My story includes glimpses of the stages of printmaking, views of my surroundings, things that catch my eye, sources of inspiration (and, I will admit, the odd cat photo - well it is Instagram after all).  I'm hoping that as people see my story unfold they will begin to recognise the processes and routines of my working life. Perhaps they will want to visit my website or this blog to find out more. Maybe fellow artists will find some of what I do reassuringly familiar. It could be that a viewer will decide to come to a workshop. Or perhaps they will simply understand a bit more about what artists do all day.

Instagram wouldn't be the same without cat photos.

If you would like to find me on Instagram I am @stoneflowerjane. To see someone's story, visit their profile and if they have a new story that you haven't seen yet then their profile photo will be circled in colour. Simply click to view. Meanwhile on your usual Instagram feed, people you follow with stories to see will appear across the top in a banner. At the time of writing stories can be seen only on mobile devices. To find out more about Instagram Stories and how to make your own, there is a short guide here.

Anatomy of a scam

I wonder if anyone has researched how much time lapsed between the invention of email and the first use of it to attempt a scam. I would like to think it was longer than half an hour.

The arrival of email made life easier for all of us but unfortunately that included petty criminals and con artists who no longer had to go to the trouble of knocking on doors, picking up a phone or paying for a stamp. Now they could target hundreds of potential victims with a single click from the comfort of their own homes. Many of these scams are ridiculously easy to spot (you didn't really think an uncle you had never heard of had died in Brazil and left you $10,000,000 did you?) but a worrying number are apparently sufficiently plausible that people are still being taken in and robbed. In this post I am going to explain how scams on artists work (both what the crooks hope to achieve and why people fall for them) and how to spot a typical one.

Who are the victims? Why are they singled out?

The less experienced you are in doing business, the easier you are likely to be to con. This is why private individuals using sites like eBay and Gumtree are often targeted. Unfortunately, the scammers have realised that this lack of business acumen often applies to artists and craftspeople too; when someone whose total previous experience of commerce has been the local village fete decides to open a worldwide online shopfront on Etsy or their own site, then they are seen as ripe for picking.

Who are the crooks?

They can be anyone, but a high proportion originate in Africa and the emails often come either from there or, increasingly frequently, from temporary residents in Europe. This statement is not the product of horribly racist and bigoted prejudice, but a pragmatic description, and in fact the commonly used term '419 scam' derives from a section of Nigeria's criminal code which deals with fraud. Sadly Nigeria was indeed the birthplace of a lot of this activity, due to a perfect storm of political, economic and societal factors which it would take longer than one blog post to unpick.

What are they trying to steal?

They want your money. That's it. It's as simple as that. This is where, I'm sorry to say, artists are particularly vulnerable. There is a natural instinct, born of a little vanity, some insecurity and a lack of experience in the art market, that encourages people to believe that their artwork is so valuable someone would go to elaborate lengths to try stealing it. They focus on protecting that, often responding to warnings from others with things like "I'm not stupid; I won't send my painting until the cheque has cleared", and completely miss where the danger really lies. Think of it like someone making a grab for your phone in the pub. You thwart them and sit down feeling pleased and triumphant, only to hear your car revving up in the car park. While you were concentrating on your phone the thief had been going for your car key.

How does it work?

The most common scam is an overpayment. Having gained your trust (by the simple expedient of complimenting your artwork, so desperate are many artists for validation) they either 'accidentally' or with forewarning send you too much money. If it's an 'accident' you might be asked to send the excess back or forward it on to a third party, perhaps even keeping a little for your trouble. Or if forewarned you might be told the crook owes some money to a friend in your country or needs to send some funds to a relative, and with exchange rates and money transfer charges it would be really helpful if they could send it to you and you send it on. Because THEY trust YOU (ha ha ha). Most commonly of all, the extra is to pay the shipping company that the buyer has arranged (see how to spot scams below) and you might be asked to send payment to them. In the most audacious examples, the 'shipping company' (ie associates of the scammer, or even the scammers themselves) will actually turn up to collect the artwork or other item and take payment there and then. (So then yes you lose the artwork AND the money  - and guess what, the crooks don't care about the artwork and will most likely dump it. Seriously - phone/car key).
But how can you lose money? If you just wait for their cheque to clear then you're safe, right? WRONG. A cheque will be deposited into your account with only the most basic authorisation. Banks do not have time to scrutinise and authenticate every piece of paper that passes through their system and a faked cheque or money order might not be spotted for weeks, even months. And then you lose your money. You can't get back the money you sent on. You have no recourse.

How to spot a typical approach

There are many small clues (and some massive ones) to look out for; each on their own might not be conclusive evidence, but put together they tell a story. Here's an email I received last week. Have a look at it and then see how many of the clues listed below are there.

Sender: john page
Email: REMOVED
Sender IP: 86.187.164.200
--------------------------------------------------

Hi,
Am John Page, I would like to place an order from your store for my daughter wedding gift,but i would be glad if you can list some of the items you have for sale with the prices,also my only method of payment is by Bank Check.
So, I will be happy to hear back from you if you can email me on my private email (REMOVED) for more details like the names and the prices you  have for sale.
       Waiting for your reply.
         Thank
          John.Page

Poor English/grammar/punctuation

We all make mistakes, and plenty of educated and highly qualified people can't spell (*stares at husband*), but use of American spelling in an email purporting to come from someone British is a small red flag. Bad grammar and strange syntax are stronger indicators that someone is not typing in their first language, and when an email claims to be coming from a doctor or lawyer (as they often do) you would definitely expect a more professional finish, or at least a passing acquaintance with spellcheck. Of course the fact that someone is not typing in their own language does not make them a crook, but if they are presenting themselves as a London based professional with an English name then it might cast doubt on their honesty. On the subject of names, these scammers often take inspiration from literature and history assuming that they must be credible English names. I have had emails from Lorna Doone, Robert Peel and Winston Smith. I'm sure there are real people out there with these names (what were their parents thinking?) but as I said earlier, all the little clues add up.

Odd use of language

You can save a lot of time by immediately deleting any email that starts 'My dear' or 'Dearest'. No need to read any further. Trust me.

Lack of specific detail

'I would like to buy some items, I wish to order artwork, I want to buy a painting.....'
Really? Just anything? You would think someone who has fallen in love with a pricey bit of artwork would be a bit more specific. Actually the more cunning scammers will name a particular piece, but 9 times out of 10 it will be the first one shown on your gallery page. The REALLY clever ones name the second one, because you'd never rumble that...
(Most hilarious are the ones which name an artwork but have failed to remove the [brackets] from the template they got from the cons4u scammers forum).

Asking for information readily available on your site

'Please send me a list of items and prices'. It's right there on the site, dude. Why are you wasting my time? Oh that's right, because you're trying to engage me in conversation and find out how gullible I am.

Mentioning shipping

Any mention of shipping is an IMMEDIATE KLAXON. (See 'How does it work?' above). Delete, delete.

Commonly used scenarios/back stories

You will start to recognise recurring themes such as the wedding gift for a daughter in this example. There was a time when a lot of people were moving into new apartments and wanted to 'beautify their homes' (see 'Odd use of language' above). A very common scenario is someone having erratic internet connection which apparently explains why they need to pay by money order, and the most widespread cause of this unreliable connectivity is being an oceanographer. It seems like every oceanographer in the world is bobbing around on the sea looking for artwork in the precious minutes they can get an internet signal.

Dictating payment method

'Yes I know your site allows quick, easy and completely secure international payment by credit or debit card but here I am in London in 2016 and the only way I can pay you is by cheque or money order, but that's OK because you will be so delighted to make such a big sale it won't occur to you to question why.'

Their visit to your site

It can be very useful to check your web traffic to see how this person reached you and behaved on your site. In this instance 'John Page' went straight from the home page to the contact page and had fired off an enquiry in minutes. GENUINE BUYERS DO NOT DO THIS. Real customers take their time. They have a good look at several items, they probably wander further off into the site and look at your 'about' page or cv to get a feel for who they are buying from. They might click on the terms and conditions and delivery information, or have a look at your events to see if you're exhibiting near them. They are very likely to go away and have a think and then make a second or third visit. Think about your own activity on shopping sites - believe me you are normal.
Incidentally, I have obscured the website from which this scammer arrived as it is an innocent third party, but I can tell you it is an old link on a French site which lists me incorrectly as an English watercolourist. Another huge red flag (if I needed any more) is that this visitor clearly has no knowledge of or interest in what I actually do.

So now you can spot a scam, what should you do?

That's easy. DELETE DELETE DELETE.
Yes it is tempting to contact the writer and give them a piece of your mind. It is even more tempting to tell them you have blown their cover and deride their pitiful attempts to trick you. FOR ALL OUR SAKES YOU MUST NOT DO THIS. In the short term, any communication at all makes you vulnerable. The tiniest snippet of information you reveal can and will be used against you in the future - that includes your IP address which you have given to the scammer simply by replying. At the very least you have shown your email address is live and active and you will thus get added to a dozen scammers' mailing lists. Most importantly though, every email that tells them how they went wrong and what mistakes they made educates them and makes their next attempt on some other poor soul more likely to succeed. Why the heck would you want to help them and give them tips on writing plausible emails? This is why I have removed the email address above because someone reading this blog (no not you obviously, you're smarter than that) will not be able to resist contacting the scammer and telling them about this post.

So there you have it. I hope some of those reading this will find it useful. At least one person (again not you) will believe they know better and that I am being unduly suspicious and thinking the worst of people. You can find people like that on online forums every day. Sadly the scammers can find them too. Don't be that person.

Everyone's a winner

A few weeks ago I wrote about the growing problem of filling workshops: an issue which appeared very suddenly a couple of years ago and which has got steadily worse since. It seems I really struck a chord as that post has had more views than the rest of my blog (mostly much more cheerful posts) put together and a lot of fellow artists and tutors got in touch, both on social media and privately, to tell me they have been having exactly the same problem.

I promised that if I came up with a solution I would post it, so here it is. Actually it's a bit early to tell if it's a solution, but it's an idea anyway, and one I am happy to share with workshop organisers.

I, like most workshop providers, used to publish a list of workshop dates ready to receive bookings. The dates would go in my diary and I would keep those days free, often for months, all the while not knowing if those dates would suit anyone else but me. Meanwhile prospective students would visit my site, find that the only dates I offered clashed with their holiday, or a friend's wedding, or a cup final, or the date was fine but not the workshop theme, and go away again without ever contacting me and letting me know they were interested.

So here's the new plan:

My site now suggests a list of dates and invites students to pick one and register their interest via a form* on the page. Once I know that at least one person wants a workshop that day I will add it to the shop as a bookable class and fix it in the diary. The list of available dates will then be adjusted (for instance if someone wants a one-day workshop on a Saturday then that weekend will no longer be an option for a two-day workshop), but I will also add new dates as a calendar begins to take shape.

*Crucially only one date can be picked from a drop down list. The idea is to reach a decision, not be back where we started with nothing being settled. 

Choice

Students now have much more choice and will find it easier to fit a workshop into their other commitments. New dates will be added frequently instead of a schedule being announced a couple of times a year.
Result: happy students
Meanwhile I don't have to keep a date free and turn down other opportunities and invitations. If something comes up for a date which has not yet been fixed as a workshop then I can simply remove it from the list of possibilities.*
Result: happy me

*As if to demonstrate, this actually happened while I was writing this. An invitation to an event popped into my Twitter inbox and I nipped off to amend the dates on my website. 

Flexibility

Now I can respond to people's wishes instead of having to try to guess what they might be. If someone is interested in woodcut they can pick any weekend on offer; nothing will be already earmarked for linocut. If they want a linoprint class on a Sunday instead of the usual Saturday then it's no problem. They just need to let me know, and now they can without having to feel awkward.
Result: everyone wins

Transparency

It has always been the case that a workshop would run only if enough bookings were received, but this system perhaps makes that a bit clearer and more understandable. Site visitors are encouraged to choose an already fixed workshop if at all possible and will know that if they suggest a new date they are, so far, the only person on that date. The ball is in their court and they are an active participant in arranging the workshop.
Result: (hopefully) less surprise and frustration for students and less guilt for me.

So what do you think? How about you workshop organisers out there - is this helpful?

And for those of you who might like to come to a printmaking workshop, you can check out the dates now available by clicking here.

Reviewing the situation...

I was supposed to be holding a two day Introduction to Woodcut workshop this weekend, but now I'm not. Instead I will be paying some attention to my neglected garden. Of the last seven workshops I have scheduled, four have been cancelled because of lack of bookings and the other three ran with only 50% attendance.

What's going on? I started running Stoneflower Studio workshops nine years ago. (Is it really nine years? Gosh.) For the first seven years or so the classes were always full. Always. And I usually had a waiting list too. Then a couple of years ago there was a very sudden change. Not only did I struggle to fill my own workshops, but other venues who had booked me as a tutor would call a week before the class to say they had cancelled it because of lack of take up.

I love teaching workshops and opening doors to a lifetime of creativity and satisfaction. I love seeing the pure joy and pride on students' faces when they achieve something they had never thought possible. I love seeing the excitement dawn as they realise what else they could do. I've seen those expressions on several hundred faces now.

Perhaps that's it. Perhaps I've simply taught everyone in the north of England and there is no-one left to come to my workshops? No, that can't be it. There must be at least four or five people left, enough for a class anyway.

I've noticed an increase in 'places still available' posts and tweets from other tutors so I don't think it's just me. I wonder if it's simply that there are so many other options for people to spend a day or weekend learning a new skill now. There was a time when 'art class' would mean drawing or watercolour or very occasionally lino printing. Now there is a huge wealth of crafts and skills on offer, and I am definitely not complaining about that. The more creativity that goes on rather than passive consumption the better. I love trying out new things myself: I've got a wire goose in my garden that I made at a day class, and I made some astonishingly pretty things at a silver clay workshop given by my amazing friend Emma Mitchell, aka Silverpebble. I've spent a day making fairies with Samantha Bryan and am planning to book a bread making class and a chair caning weekend.

Or perhaps it's not so much that people are going elsewhere, as that they just aren't going to workshops at all. Yesterday I read an article suggesting that instead of looking to 'real people' to teach us skills we are increasingly turning to Google and YouTube to tell us anything and everything. Again I can't complain about that; YouTube has imparted all sorts of useful gems to me, from fixing a faulty loo flush to pinching out sweet peas. I have picked up a lot of printmaking tips that way too, and in the spirit of paying it forward I now make demonstration videos myself.

But you can't ask a video questions. You can't share a laugh. You can't show your computer screen what you've done and get instant feedback and advice. Your tablet doesn't provide you with materials and equipment. You can't switch off for the day and concentrate on what you're learning if, by definition, you are hooked up to the internet. And most importantly, (let's get our priorities straight), your smartphone doesn't make you tea and cake.

What a shame it will be if personal face to face art teaching dies out. I don't want to stop giving people the chance to learn a new skill this way, but it looks like the old system of setting dates and inviting bookings just isn't working anymore. It's frustrating and time wasting for me and disappointing for the person who books a workshop only to be told later it has been cancelled (and I really, really hate sending those emails). I will have to come up with a new way of doing this.

I'm reviewing....

 ....the situation....

...I think I'd better think it out again.

Any suggestions?


Update 10 June: I think I might have come up with an answer.

Putting on a show

For the last three years I have taken part in the annual York Open Studios event which takes place in April. For two of those years I have also been on the organising committee, and with around 100 artists exhibiting in about 70 venues that's a lot of organising, all done by a small group of volunteers, most of whom are also exhibiting too. (Yes I know, we're heroes - what can I say?).

Planning for the 2017 event has already started and our Call for Artists will be going out in July. In the meantime here's a very short film I made about the 2016 weekends.

If you'd like to know more about York Open Studios, as either a visitor or an artist (or both), you can visit the website here. You'll find a link on the homepage to sign up to our email newsletter to be kept up to date with announcements.

The making of Velvet Ears

Social media can open interesting doors and make unexpected connections. I created this print last year, based on a photo taken by one of my online pals (whom I have never met in real life) of a puppy belonging to friends of hers. A few tweets gave me the permission of both the photographer and the puppy's owners to turn the image into a collagraph monoprint, and as a thank you the first two prints from the edition went to the parties concerned.

Although each print in the edition of 15 is made from the same plate, the image is created by wiping and removing ink in a painterly way. The results will therefore be slightly (or even greatly) different each time, making each print a monoprint. This is easier to show than to explain so I have finally got around to making a video of the process.

After giving away the first two prints in the edition, I put another one in the Taster Exhibition for last year's York Open Studios, where I am pleased to say it was the first sale made. Others from the edition are now available in my shop.

Just a print

Last Christmas I sent tiny etchings to some of my friends and family; each one was a numbered and signed print from a limited edition of 50. Most thanked me for their print but a couple thanked me for their 'card'. I smiled and nodded and fought back the temptation to ask anxiously if they had dropped it in the Christmas card recycling point at the supermarket, or cut it up to make a tag for next year's wrapping. How could I correct them without sounding like a bossy teacher or an over-sensitive artist? Finally one lovely friend phoned and gave effusive thanks and said she would treasure her little robin as a "Jane Duke original", but then corrected herself and said "... of course I know it's not really an original, but it is to me".
"No, no" I replied, "it is an original."
"Really?" she said, surprised and delighted, "Oh I thought it was just a print!"

'Robin'
Drypoint etching 6 x 6 cm

It's easy to see why there is confusion; despite having one of the richest vocabularies in the world, the English language still uses the same word to mean an original piece of art hand created by the artist and a scanned reproduction of an image run off on a machine. The problem has been exacerbated since the 1990s by artists selling giclée (inkjet) reproductions of their paintings as 'limited edition prints'. You can hardly blame the non-artist public for not immediately making the distinction. So what are printmakers to do to protect our craft? We can sulk and stamp and weep or we can quietly, determinedly and politely make it possible for people to see and understand what we do.

I enjoy giving short demonstrations at art events and in my studio during the York Open Studios weekends, and I also have leaflets on my stand at art shows, explaining the processes. I post step by step demos and photos of work in progress here on the blog and I have put a printmaking guide and a glossary of terms on my website. And then of course I also teach workshops for those who are curious enough to want to try for themselves.

I've now taken another step, and after wrestling with self consciousness and fear of making a hash of it, I stuck my phone in a clamp, switched on the camera and made my first YouTube video. Appropriately perhaps, it shows the making of that little Robin etching which was given out at Christmas and which brought some misunderstandings to light. I'd love you to watch it if you have 5 minutes.

Now I've made this leap I will be making more of these videos. I hope they help to spread the word about what printmaking is, on behalf of all printmakers whose work is so much more than 'just a print'.

At the time of writing the remaining 'Robin' prints in the edition can be purchased in my shop