Small mentions

There are two wonderful exhibitions opening tomorrow night that I'm connected to, and too far away to attend. Please do go to one or t'other sometime, either to the openings or just to see the work.

Easy Listening, by U.K. Frederick, at Megalo, opening 12 August at 6pm and running through to Sat 28 August.


A show about music and cars, music and love, music and life, portrayed through a series of vinyl record and cassette tape explorations. There's also letterpress, which is where I come into the scene, although Ursula did all her own setting and printing. You haven't lived until you've printed 'ELVIS' in large woodtype surrounded by stars onto baby pink metallic bookcloth. Our lives are now complete. A highly recommended show. Ursula is a very talented chick.

And next, but not second in quality, is Call of the Small, at Craft ACT, curated by The Shopping Sherpa. It's a teeny exhibition of teeny craft works, made very seriously by serious craftspeople, and shown in the Crucible showcase at the entrance to the gallery. There are books, knitted things, glass, furniture, and jewellery, among other things, and posters made by myself.

Like this



and this



The latter one making me giggle every time I think of it. Also, if you cruise through SS's blog (link above), she has lots of back stories for the works and the exhibition preparation, and also studio visits for most of the artists.

That exhibition also opens at 6pm on the 12th of August and finishes on the 25th of September.

Which means, since I return on the 26th of September, that I will completely miss both shows. Sob.

Be the roller, grasshopper

I spent the last three days editioning my Banjo print, and finished the pile at lunchtime today. 115 sheets, and to my utter dismay, only 50 of them were any good, with a 'vaguely acceptable' pile of 40, and the rest absolutely shite.

So I was a bit gloomy in the early afternoon. I went for a walk in the fresh air, bought some stamps so that I could start writing letters to people who don't read this, and then on the way back decided to HARDEN THE F*CK UP and sort out my roller method. I'd pretty much sorted it just as I'd finished the pile, so I got out another 60 sheets (after working out that there were still enough to do the other editions) and got to work.

I started printing at about 4pm, and finished the 60 at 8.30pm. So now I know
[a] how many prints I can do an hour if I work hard, and
[b] how to use the rollers on the type.

After a while I wasn't just using the roller, I was the roller. I realised that I'd been using too much ink. I had to create the sensation of silk, as my excellent wood engraving teacher once told me. But only for the metal type. Wood type is thirsty, and needs a good juicy roll-up. So my brain had to be ultra-vigilant, to not get the two rolling needs mixed up. I was in The Zone, and didn't want to leave it until the lot were done. Loud music helped.

In the end, I printed the 60 beautifully with only about 5 bad prints, and they're only marginally bad. I feel good. And the huge pile of crap prints can get recycled into something else while I'm here. Donald the Special Collections Librarian has never seen my hawt recycling skillz.

Sue Wootton (the poet I was printing) came in again during my first session today and took some photos of me at work:





Note the pigtails (I love the fact that my hair is long enough to have pigtails again, I love having my hair off my face when I work) and the Megalo apron, with a pocket made from a piece of their screenprint table.

I feel buggered, but so much better. Tomorrow I will diss the banjo (diss doesn't mean disrespect, it means disassemble, disappear, dismantle, and properly, distribute back into the cases) and start on the Les Murray pome. In the meantime I'm going to have a sound and satisfied sleep.

Weekend workings

I can't really have weekends off with the amount of work I'm contracted to produce, but I decided that Saturday should be the mostly restful day, with Sunday limited to a sleep-in (the library doesn't open until 10am, but stays open until 11pm every day) and maybe a bit of internet action as I take breaks.

So yesterday I kept my promise to myself that I'd have breakfast at the local farmers' market. It was a good promise, and I've posted a photo-essay of my experience at Progressive Dinner Party. I was so fun and replete from looking at and touching and tasting all sorts of yummy things that I went for a big walk down towards the harbour, and finally found a great view of it:



I didn't walk right down to the shore as I had a lunchtime date with Sue Wootton, the Banjo poster poet, and I wanted to check out some of the vintage shops and ops shops before I met up with her. I found all sorts of things, mostly through the windows (I don't trust myself in antique and collectible shops, I'm such an impulse buyer and also quite clumsy, especially with a backpack) and was only prevented from buying lots of old clothes and books by the thought of all the postage to send them back to myself. I decided I would only buy things that REALLY sang to me.



Like this. I've always wanted a vintage swimsuit, since I have a vintage shape that looks crappy in modern swimwear, but most collecting people seem to only stock smaller sizes. Finally I found a pair that fit me, and I snapped them up:



They make me look like a happy young nana in a Kodak Polaroid, so I'm very happy with them.

I also had a wander through the Dunedin Art Gallery, which had a small but gorgeous hanging of Durer prints, and an amazing exhibition of Anatomy art, a wild mix of medical models, illustrations, books, furniture and specimens plus contemporary art that focuses on anatomy. I managed to see most of it, but must go back for a much closer look.

Then I met up with Sue -- by that time the heavens had fulfilled their threat to open and it was absolutely POURING. We went to the Regent Theatre to see one of the movies from the Dunedin Film Festival (it finishes today, and had a great selection of old & new films), The Father of My Children. It's a lovely film about an indy filmmaker who succumbs to the pressures of debt and lack of support and commits suicide, and how this affects his family. It's nowhere near as grim as it sounds. We came out of the theatre a bit weepy, and ran into a pair of Sue's friends who were also writers and had just seen the movie too. We asked them what they thought (having just told each other how much we liked it) and he said he disliked it intensely while she had loved it in the same way we had, which started a conversation (that made him quite grumpy) about whether it was a film made with a distinctly female sensibility that ended in a very vague but positive way that women could relate to more than men. (I'd be interested in any other opinions about this if you've seen the movie!)

After a sit in the cafe with Sue and her friend Liz, a local artist, I headed back to the Print Room and kept editioning. I'm getting better; my hit pile is now higher than my miss pile!



Colonel Duck wanted me to show more of where I'm staying, my actual room, so here goes:



Lounge area, which I've since rearranged to situate my wet washing next to the very warm radiator.



The little kitchen bit, which I use to store some alcohol and chocolate plus make some late night peppermint tea.



The bathroom, which is very hard to photograph because it's long and thin. Around the corner to the left is a shower unit, with endless hot water in a reasonable water-saving gush.



Bedroom, with my usual hastily made bed. I wouldn't bother except that someone comes in every day to empty the bins & change my towels, and I hate making a bad impression ;)

It's basic but comfortable and private, which is everything I need in a place of residence. The bed could be a touch firmer, but some rudimentary yoga and Tai Chi in the mornings sorts my back out.

OK, back to work. As usual, there are more photos at flickr.

Eagle Rock

I never thought I'd say this, but printing with an iron handpress really feels like *real* letterpress printing. It's certainly harder than the sort of printing I do at home.



I've been printing all afternoon, and have to stop before I make more mistakes. When you're editioning, that is, trying to make each print look the same as the first, and rolling up the type by hand, you have to use all your senses:

Touch: the roller has to skim across the type lightly but not too lightly, not bumping on the type, and not missing any letters. (I know the best way to use rollers is with guide rails, but this project just can't allow for them... i don't have large enough rollers, and I'm printing big surfaces)

Hearing: you have to listen while you refresh the ink on the rollers. Too much hiss, and the print will be sloppy. Not enough hiss, and there won't be enough ink and the letters will print faded.

Sight: you need to watch carefully as you ink, and you need to be constantly mindful of the trouble spots: the letter that is slightly worn (and you don't have a replacement!) that needs special attention.

Taste... well, almost all the senses.

A couple of hours of moving back and forth between the ink slab and the paper pile and pulling the press and checking your success or failure is completely exhausting. So. I will take some time out to sit here and write to you, before I get whisked off to the pub by some keen Thank-God-Its-Friday librarians (the best sort! ;) ).

So. Here's where I'm working:



This is a view from the back of the room looking towards the door, which is on the left. You can see the Albion press and the Vandercook press (like mine, but the rollers have been removed from it so that students won't hurt themselves) and the custom-built drawers , each holding a typetray.



Here's the same side of the room, looking towards the large wall of window and more type.



Here's the other side of the room, with the grand Columbian iron handpress, the one I'm working with at the moment. These presses are AMAZING. The people who designed them didn't have any clean-line modernist notions, no sirree. This baby has floral enhancements, a portrait of Socrates on the back, an eagle counterweight and -- get this -- DRAGONS winding over the ironwork. As I print, the eagle bobs up and down. A roomful of these printing a newspaper in the 19th century would have been fantastic, with the eagles bobbing up & down at different rhythms.

This is the view out of the studio window:



You can see the Otago Museum across the road, and a path full of hurrying students. I've seen nearly every kind of weather out of this window this week. I like the rainy days best, we don't get a lot of those in Canberra.

This is the view out of the internal window:



There are desks outside where the students all sit with their laptops and ignore me. It's amazing, when I look out at them, how few of them are actually working.

Donald the Special Collections Library, my host, has been telling everyone he knows that I'm here, and has even advertised me on the Library bulletin thingy (can't call it a board anymore):



Donald is lovely, and a hard working man of routine, so we never fail to have morning tea, afternoon tea, and lunch at the same times. I am meeting lots of librarians, and some students, and there is a lovel ex-printer called John who comes by and helps me solve problems. Shef, the bibliography teacher in the English Dept, is the only other regular user of the Columbian, and he, too, is invaluable.

When I was getting my bearings, and trying out the various presses, I had a play with some ampersands (of course!).



Then I got my bearings, and now I'm working on my first proper piece, a shape-poem by Dunedin poet Sue Wotton. Here's my progress, from this



to this



to this



which is what I'm now editioning, so I'm printing 100 of them.

I have to design and print six more, by various poets, and then they will be put together in a folio and sold off, only as a folio, not individually. I don't see the money, I only get one copy for myself, and the rest are sold ridiculously cheaply to fund the next visiting printer. If you'd like to buy a folio, I think the going price is between NZ$250 and $300, and they will go fast. You can contact me at ampersand duck (all one word) at gmail and I'll forward you to Donald.

PUB TIME!

(rest of images at flickr)

Kia ora

Hey ho, sorry for the silence. This is the first day of wireless access for me, having jumped through many hoops and filled out one of the very first applications for access (sorry, excess) as an external visitor staying longer than 2 weeks. The university has, of course, had other medium-stay visitors, but they've never had a formal process for them. Until now. Excuse me whilst I remove my guinea-pig costume.

I wrote a post on Sunday night, on the evening of my first full Dunedin day, but haven't had the ability to upload it. So, while I'm organising my photos from the last few days, here it is:

Kia ora from Dunedin!



After experiencing my special cat alarm service (the one that wakes you half an hour before the alarm you actually set), I spent all day yesterday wrangling earcraft and earports, with my first plane at 6:40am and arriving at DUD (AirNZ’s acronym, not mine) at 7pm their time (5pm Canberra time). I was a bit knackered by the time I arrived.

My host, Donald the Rare Books Librarian of Otago University Library (say it all in one breath, please), took me to his amazingly beautiful Victorian villa on a hill overlooking the bay to have a lovely home-cooked roast dinner with his family and friends, and I managed to muster enough energy to be articulate and witty for a while, before needing desperately to go and have a lie down.



I always knew that I would be staying at one of the university’s colleges, and assumed that I would be getting just a basic student room. But no! I am in a guest room at St Margaret’s College (above), which is a posh college that has formal dress-up Sunday dinners (except this weekend, when most of the students are off on a ski trip) and gorgeous landscaping and facilities like a lush common room with a piano (that someone is playing to a small but rapt audience as I type). My room is off to one side, near the dining room, and it has its own loungeroom, small kitchenette, bathroom and bedroom with double bed! LUXURY! Am very happy.



I spent today getting to know Dunedin a little, walking in huge loops and taking photos of all the beautiful things I found, which seem to fall into some distinct categories: street art (thanks to Byrd’s influence, I notice these things now); the textures of things, such as peeling paint and flaky metal; and hand-painted typography on walls. Also the usual: nice architecture, funny signs, etc. I’m putting some photos up here, but the rest will be at flickr.



The University of Otago is beautiful, with new and fancy architecture butt-cheeked next to Scottish-influenced Victorian gems and through the whole thing flows the nostalgically-named Waters of Leith, which is running fast but low at the moment, but quite obviously (from the manmade barriers and desperate student-installed sandbank walls) when the snows melt the river rises very high. I hope I get to see that!



Tomorrow I start work in the university library, in their print studio. At first I’ll just be exploring their type collection, learning to work their presses and marshalling my army of volunteers to help me tear paper, but once I get a grip on things I’ll be designing my 7 broadsides and title page & colophon, and then working hard and fast to print an edition of 100 each while not wasting too much paper. I’m also giving a talk, maybe running a small workshop and, I was told last night, I’m being interviewed by the local paper soon.

So tonight I’m going to have a quiet one…

Heh. Turns out most nights are quiet ones, as dinner is at 5.30pm (and I've not quite caught up with being two hours in front of myself, so in my head I'm still waking at 5am and eating dinner at 3.30pm). I found out that Thursdays and Saturdays are the Big Nights Out and indeed tonight there is more student nocturnal movement than usual. The tv stations are abysmal, with no state-run station like the ABC, so they're all commercial channels, and people avoid them by getting cable. I just joined the local video store, and it has a really good range of foreign and alternative titles, so I'm now happy. Plus I can blog again, which makes me even happier.

Next time: Starting at the Print Room.

Fare thee well

OK, I'm pretty much packed and ready to go. I've finished all the little jobs I had to do, and cleaned my studio up so that my friend Nicci can sublet it from me. Now I just have to sort out my daypack, and I'm ready to fly to New Zealand first thing in the morning. My plane leaves at 6:40am, and I don't get to my destination until about 7pm. It's not a huge distance, it's just a lot of sitting around at airports.

Here's my lovely clean studio:



And here, just for the halibut, is the picture that inspired my working name:



It's a flock of flying ampersand ducks, printed in the year 2000 for an entry in the Noma Concours Illustration prize. I made a series of prints that made scenes and animals from wood and metal type. It was a proposal for a children's book, aimed at 3-4 year olds. It got an encouragement award, but it's never been published.

So, unless I get very bored at the airport tomorrow, next time I write I should be in New Zealand, learning how to compress my vowels.

See you in the soup!

GAH!

The old lady across the road must think I'm mad.

Nine times out of ten when I drive the car out of the driveway, I do one of the following things:

[a] stop halfway down the drive, jump out of the car and run, cursing under my breath, back in to the house, grab whatever I've forgotten, and run back out to the car and resume my journey.

[b] get a few metres down the road, stop, turn the car around, go back into the driveway, jump out of the car and run, cursing under my breath, back in to the house, grab whatever I've forgotten, and run back out to the car and resume my journey.

[c] drive away, get to the nearest traffic junction, stop, do some convoluted traffic movement to get back to my street, go back into the driveway, jump out of the car and run, cursing under my breath, back in to the house, grab whatever I've forgotten, and run back out to the car and resume my journey.

I'm getting there. The lists are getting shorter, but the sleeping is getting more restless as my brain goes over the lists and the options through the night.

T minus 4 days! Adrenalin starting to pump.