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

A shopping trip around my studio

As well as being asked how I make my artwork (which I am, mostly, happy to answer), I also get a lot of "Where did you get...?" questions. At my printmaking workshops I give out a detailed supplies list of where to find materials and small tools, but this blog post will take you around a few of the other vital bits and pieces I have in my studio, most of which won't be found in an art shop. (If you've discovered any useful things like these, do please share them in the comments.)

WARNING: The name IKEA will crop up a lot. If you are one of those who is driven to a steaming rage by the mere thought of the Swedish temple of flat pack then I suggest you stop reading now. If however you are like me and delight in any excuse to wander the magical maze until you reach the meatball prize at the centre, then read on... you're going to like this.

To start as we mean to go on, here is an IKEA Malm glass cupboard top being used as an ink slab for mixing and rolling printing ink. Economical, toughened glass with safe rounded edges - and what is even better it comes in a white option which means you can see your colours easily without being distracted by what is underneath.  

Once I've inked up my plates then the chances are they will be being put through one of these presses. The one on the left is an antique iron book press and I am often asked "Where can I get one like that?" as if there is a secret shop or website selling them. Sadly there is no quick and easy answer; for me it was simply a matter of haunting eBay and pouncing when one turned up close enough to collect it. (These things weigh as much as a ten year old child so postage isn't usually an option). After around six months of waiting and watching I found this one 20 miles away. By the way, you might notice the non slip mat it is standing on; that's a cut up piece of anti-slip underlay from - you guessed it - IKEA, and is also what I use to hold woodblocks firm when I am carving them.

From old and basic to modern and high tech, the press on the right is my beloved etching press, hand built by Hawthorn Printmaker. I am so very lucky to have one of the best makers of etching presses just a couple of miles away here in York so I was able to try before I bought. They do deliver anywhere in the UK though, and I also use their excellent Stay Open Inks.

So the prints have been made and now I need to dry them. Any look through a printmaking supplies website will soon tell you that drying racks cost a blinking fortune, which is why you will so often see photos of prints hanging from strings and washing airers. The wall mounted affair below is from Cost Cutters and as it is sold as an educational supply for schools it does not carry the scary price tag that quite ordinary objects seem to acquire once they are labelled as art equipment. Its clever design means it folds flat against the wall...... so I'm told. Mine never gets the chance as it is too busy serving as additional shelving and an apron hook.

My studio is furnished with cupboards and shelves from THAT PLACE and I love my extendable table which miraculously becomes big enough for a full class when I hold a workshop. I store prints and smaller sheets of paper in a chest of shallow drawers on castors from a range of office furniture. My pride and joy is my wonderful 175cm long workbench. Heavy, solid, totally unshakeable, just the right height to work at standing up and with big deep drawers and wonderfully wide and deep shelves. It is so sturdy my husband has suggested it could also serve as a nuclear shelter should the need ever arise. Is it a purpose made piece of studio equipment with a four figure price tag? No it is a free standing Värde kitchen unit from IKEA. Here is a corner of it in its mucky, ink smeared and untidy glory. Sadly this range has now been discontinued, but hopefully it will soon be replaced by an equivalent and meanwhile pieces do pop up on eBay.

Finding my workbench was an example of looking at something for the properties it has, not what the label says it is. A much smaller instance is my cutting tools storage tin which my grown up son was throwing out when putting away childish things. I bet the designers of this souvenir sweets tin never realised they were making something exactly the right size and shape for printmaking tools, but here it is. The corks protecting the sharp tips are becoming increasingly hard to come by in this era of screw top wine bottles, so it is sometimes necessary to open a bottle of prosecco: just one of the tough sacrifices artists have to make for their work.

A bit of imagination can also save you money on display equipment for shows. While I have a couple of purpose made large print browsers (I can't think of a way round that one) my small prints are displayed on a table top in a foldable wooden magazine rack (you can probably guess where I bought it, can't you?). I display greetings cards in pretty wire baskets which were designed to hang on a bathroom wall; they are flat bottomed so can stand on a table but can also be hung from picture hooks on a peg board. (Yes, yes, they were from IKEA too.)

Do you have any clever solutions in your studio, or brilliant shop finds you are prepared to share? Do please spread the word in the comments below. I'd love to hear them and I'm sure others would too.

Getting organised

'The biggest lie I tell myself is "I don't need to write that down; I'll remember it."'

When I'm in the middle of producing a print and repeating a process time and time again, it seems impossible that I won't always know how to do it. Sometimes I make a few notes on scraps of paper (which then get lost) but more often I don't. And then the same thing always happens - I go back a week or a month later to complete some more in the edition and I can't even remember how I got that ink colour, let alone how I got that texture effect or that blend of tones. I am an idiot.

In 2016 I am resolved to end this idiocy and start keeping a print recipe book. I'm going to use this sketch book from Paperchase. It fits the bill perfectly: it's attractive enough to be an incentive but not so lovely I dare not write in it. (I once gave away a beautiful hand made book because it had sat on my shelf unused for three years; it was so special I couldn't bring myself to make a mark in it).

The first recipe I've written up is for this little 'Robin' drypoint etching that I made for Christmas 2015. It's an edition of 50 and I still have just a few more to make, plus I want to be able to use it for a demo piece during York Open Studios in April. It's going to be really helpful to be reminded of how to do it when the time comes (and I just hope future me is suitably grateful).

'Robin' drypoint etching 6 x 6 cm

Visit my print shop

A Flick of Hares

There are several collective nouns for hares, but I like 'flick' the most for the way it evokes the fleeting glimpse which is often all we get.

This post is about how one small 10 cm x 10 cm hare ended up saving lives almost by accident.

It started last autumn when I decided to make a small collagraph print of a perky little hare peeping at the world. Once I'd cut the plate it had to be varnished with several coats of shellac, so while I waited for that to dry I was at a loose end.

There was a small piece of scrap lino on my workbench, just a bit bigger than the collagraph plate. I cut this down to the same 10 cm x 10 cm size and sketched on the outline of another hare - similar to the collagraph but not the same, more a memory of the drawing I had done earlier. I then carved it out with my lino tools almost freehand, pretty much making it up as I went along.

I inked it up and printed a first proof - and I laughed out loud. Instead of the 'Curious Hare' I had planned (and I think achieved) for the collagraph, this chap looked slightly crazy. He was definitely a March Hare.

Collagraph 'Curious Hare' (left) and linocut 'March Hare' (right)

I produced prints from both the collagraph plate and the lino block, and in fact printed the lino version in several different colours. Both were a hit when they debuted at a Christmas fair in December 2014.

A couple of months later I was mulling on what I could do for Comic Relief's 2015 Red Nose Day. I thought of the Parable of the Talents; I could either just give £100 to Comic Relief, or I could spend that amount on materials, packaging, postage and PayPal fees and quadruple it before passing it to Comic Relief. The theme in 2015 was 'Make your face funny for money', so I looked at my hare.... and wondered what he'd look like with a red nose. The answer was he would look like this.....

'Mad March Hare'

Behold, my March Hare was now even more bonkers, and had become a Mad March Hare. I contacted Comic Relief to get the necessary approval and paperwork. (If your fundraising is connected to your business it has to be authorised, for obvious reasons). Fortunately they loved the idea and gave me full permission. I announced on social media that there would be an edition of 40 and that they would be £10 each. I printed only a few in advance as I really wasn't sure they would sell....

The entire edition sold out in under six days *screams* and thanks to the enthusiasm and generosity of the wonderful people who bought one (or two, or three) I was able to send a fantastic £400 to Comic Relief.

Packaging up and mailing the prints

And all because I had had nothing to do while I waited for some varnish to dry.


Footnote:
My Mad March Hares have of course all gone - never to be repeated (such is the nature of limited editions!). The original collagraph 'Curious Hare' and linocut 'March Hare', in various colours, can still be purchased on my website, as well as greetings cards with the Mad March Hare image.