Last week was time out for walking, painting and reading books. I spend some time making lino prints: it’s the closest i have got to sculpture, starting with nothing, and physically carving the expression into the bland canvas: it’s a visceral experience, the nature of which led to quite vivid dreams, where i saw the thin veins of curling lino peeling back from the knife. Lino printing is easily accessible to everyone, but need a certain change of perspective: you are cutting in the negative, working in the mirror. That presents some challenges.
I find i have to start by imagining the overall weight that i want in an image: if i carve out the sky, the sea will be black, but equally i could carve out the sea, under a black sky. Everything is presence or absence: your choice is which way to go. It requires you to envision the future state, and remove, slowly, everything that stands between you and that vision. There’s probably a naively simply metaphor for change there, but i will try to avoid being so crass. Change is not as simple as envisioning a future state, then working hard to get there. But it is strangely like the carving process: you have to commit, and you can’t undo the consequence of action: hence the benefit of reflection before you start