Artists have been making
prints for centuries. Generally,
printing is about replication. For
someone living in the twenty first century, the idea of creating multiple
identical copies of an image might not seem that miraculous, but the development
of printing techniques really resulted from revolutionary changes in how
information was shared within world societies.
Books existed before there was a way to print them. They were painstakingly copied by hand and
therefore fairly rare and expensive. Of
course, where the word existed, it was naturally accompanied by the image to
illustrate it. These images were
manually-executed, one-of-a-kind originals.
Sometimes the artwork, unfathomably detailed and intricate, transformed
a book into a magical object to be venerated within a religious community.
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| Lindisfarne Gospel - c700 |
At other times, artwork elevated a utilitarian
book, such as a Book of Hours, into something precious and exquisite, only to
be afforded by the nobility.
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| Limbourg Brothers - February from The Book of Hours - 1412 to 16 |
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| Limbourg Brothers - December from The Book of Hours - 1412 to 16 |
Because books were owned by
a literate elite, it was not requisite that the artwork contained within them
directly illustrate the words on the page; it was more critical that the
artwork enhance the value of the book as an object. The uneducated masses could see sculpture and
paintings which explicitly depicted biblical stories and other narratives in
their churches and public institutions.
With Gutenberg’s invention
of the printing press in 1436, books were suddenly more available and less
costly. Publishers were able to mass
produce books on a much larger scale, and it was only natural that they would
desire to include imagery in their work, both to follow the tradition
established with handmade books and, now that books could end up in the hands
of less educated owners, to illustrate or provide concrete representations of
the people, places and activities described on the page.
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| Unknown - Illustration for Morte d'Arthur - 1498 |
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| Michael Wolgemut - The Dance of Death - 1493 |
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| Elizabethan - Macbeth, Banquo and Three Witches - 17th Century |
Though the development of
the woodcut occurred in Europe at around 1400,
it was the invention of the printing press that encouraged artists to develop
the printing technique into a sophisticated art form. Because moveable type could be fitted around
a block easily, woodcuts were particularly suitable for mass printing and
remained the primary technique for illustration until the late sixteenth
century. During this period, artists
were also creating editions of fine art prints not to serve as illustrations
but to be marketed as “stand alone” works of art.
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| Albrecht Durer - Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse - 1498 |
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| Albrecht Durer - Rhinoceros - 1515 |
It is interesting that in
order to achieve a full range of tones in these prints, artists resorted to
using the same techniques they used in drawing – crosshatching being most
consistently employed. Though the
results were often magnificent, mimicking linear techniques on a woodblock was
unnatural, extremely difficult and really did not maximize the full potential
of the medium.
Woodblock
printing techniques were first used in ancient Egypt
and China,
where woodcuts were employed in dyeing patterned fabrics. Long before Gutenberg’s invention of the printing
press and moveable type, the Chinese were printing books using woodcuts. But it was the Japanese who really optimized
the potential of this printing technique, evidenced by the large number of
quality fine art prints created during their Edo
period from the 17th to the 19th centuries. The Japanese approached woodblock printing in
a more organic fashion than the Europeans of the 15th century,
avoiding the temptation to imitate linear techniques and suggest subtle modeling
using the medium. Japanese prints are
essentially graphic works with expressive, flowing lines encompassing broad
expanses of vibrant color and intricate patterning. While the Europeans used oil-based inks for
printing, the Japanese adopted water soluble pigments which permitted them to
experiment with transparency and incorporate delicate gradations of tone and
hue within solid areas of color. Some
artists dusted their prints with a metallic powder called mica to create a
shimmering effect when appropriate – in a snow scene, for instance.
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| Kitagawa Utamaro - Ase o fuku onna - 1798 |
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| Katsushika Hokusai - Evening Moon at Ryogoku Bridge - 1831/32 |
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| Utagawa Kunisada - Tale of Genji - mid 1800s |
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| Utagawa Hiroshige - Kanbara - 1832 |
When European artists first
became aware of Japanese prints in the mid-19th century, they were
both startled and enchanted. The
Impressionists quickly incorporated in their work elements from the prints like
the use of unusual vantage points or the quirky, seemingly arbitrary, cropping
of images. But it was really the next
generation or two of artists that turned to the woodcut as a vital means of
expression, using not only Japanese prints as their models but also the art of
many peripheralized cultures such as those of Africa or the South Sea
islands. These artists were seeking a
more brutal and elemental means of expression – one devoid of sophistication
and artistic convention. Besides turning
to the artwork of other cultures, they were inspired by the early woodcuts of Northern Europe and recent developments in the artistic
vocabulary of contemporary artists.
Their prints had to reflect the medium from which they were created,
expressing the difficulty of cutting into a hardwood block with knives and
gauges, exposing the individual marks of the artist, revealing the knots and
grain which defined their medium. Their
prints are scarred and irregularly shaped, determined by the cheap scraps of
wood affordable to them. Middle tones
and modeling have been eliminated.
Virtuosity and nuance have been sacrificed to arrive at a more honest,
basic means of communication.
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| Paul Gauguin - Change of Residence - 1899 |
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| Kathe Kollwitz - Self Portrait - 1923 |
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| Ernst Barlach - The Cathedrals - 1920 |
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| Ernst Ludwig Kirchner - Head of Ludwig Schames - 1918 |
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| Erich Heckel - Portrait of a Man - 1918 |
It was exposure to the
prints of these modern artists 35 years ago that first sparked my interest in
woodcuts. During that period, I’ve
peripatetically explored this printing technique, at times devoting myself solely
to printing and at other times not producing a single print for years. I have struggled, maybe not too successfully,
to avoid the slavish imitation of the masters who have come before me, keeping
my approach to the block personal and organic.
My interest primarily in figurative compositions and portraiture is
reflected in my prints. Early on,
exaggeration and distortion were devices I commonly employed in my prints, not
surprising since at that time I was still resisting the inclination to work
naturalistically in other mediums, slowly discarding expressionist conventions
and developing my own personal language.
Today I find that, regardless of my intentions, the block imposes its
own sensibility on my work; the more receptive I am to where the block is
leading me, the more successful will be the resulting print.
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| Gerard Wickham - I Was Told to Wear a Tie - 1987 |
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| Gerard Wickham - Woodcutter and Model - c1990 |
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| Gerard Wickham - Tyler - 1998 |
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| Gerard Wickham - Dawn - 1998 |
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| Gerard Wickham - Terre Anne - 1999 |
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| Gerard Wickham - Organ Hill - 2001 |
Over the years, I’ve
developed my own techniques for making woodcuts. I’ve received no formal training in the
technique, so everything I’ve learned has come from written materials and the
process of trial and error. A master
printer may find fault with many of my procedures. That’s fine.
My goal has never been to develop the quintessential printing technique;
instead, I aim to arrive at procedures that fit my personality and attain the
specific results that I desire.
Recently,
I made a woodcut of my son and his girlfriend, recording in photographs
significant stages in the process. I
thought it would be interesting to provide here a brief, step-by-step summary
of my procedures. I began by purchasing
a hardwood plank, in this case poplar, at a local store which carries a variety
of lumber. After cutting from the plank
a block of the dimensions I desired, I sanded the printing surface just enough
to eradicate any irregularities that might interfere with the printing process. I drew in pencil on the block a general
sketch of my composition and traced my lines with indelible marker. Keep in mind that your final print will be
the mirror image of the drawing that you’re now seeing on the block. Flipping an image can dramatically change its
movement and mood, so it’s best to experiment a bit before committing to a
composition.
I then shellacked the block
to protect the wood and prevent the ink from absorbing into the surface. Be sure to shellac both sides of the block or
warpage will result. Once dry, the block
is ready to be cut. I use a variety of
handheld woodcutting tools that can be purchased at an art supply store or
hobby shop. It’s critical that the tools
are sharp or your cuts will be ragged and your tools will slip across the
surface of the wood. I used hand
pressure to make my cuts, only occasionally resorting to a rubber mallet when
challenged by a stubborn stretch of wood.
The cutting of this block required about half a dozen sessions over a
period of a few days.
Here I am in front of the All Nighter enjoying a
blazing fire while cutting my block.
This block is ready for a
test print. One thing I like about
woodcuts is that the printing process is very elemental and tactile. No fancy apparatus are required, just a
handheld brayer (ink roller) and a baren (tool for rubbing). For a test print, I use a water soluble ink
and a sheet of regular quality drawing paper.
I put a dollop of ink on a pane of glass and roll it with my brayer
until the ink is spread evenly over a 4” X 4” square. Then I begin rolling the ink onto the block,
careful not to over ink any section of the woodcut – which could result in the
loss of detail. Depending on the size of
the block, you may have to add ink to the pane several times during this
process.
Above you can see my block,
fully inked and ready for its first test printing. Printing is quite easy. Lay a sheet of paper on a flat surface and
carefully place your block on it (inked side down). Apply pressure to the block until the paper
has made good contact with the ink and adheres to the surface of the
block. Now you can gently flip the block
over and begin methodically rubbing the reverse side of the paper with your baren. I prefer to use the back of an ordinary
tablespoon for this purpose. When you
are satisfied that you’ve covered the entire woodcut, slowly peel the paper
from the block and put it aside to dry.
For this print, I cut the block further and made additional test prints
twice before becoming satisfied with the results.
Printing the final version
is identical in process to executing a test print with two exceptions: you use
oil-based ink and good quality 100% rag printing paper. I like to use a fairly lightweight paper for
woodblock printing since it allows me to see during the rubbing phase which
areas of the print have made proper contact with the ink on the block. Also, beforehand, I dampen the paper by
briefly submersing it in water and setting it on a flat surface for about a
half hour before printing. It’s a good
idea to dab off any puddling that occurs when you remove the paper from the
water. I usually only make a couple of
prints from any block, but always have the option of producing more later if
there is a demand. You can see the final
version of the print below.
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| Gerard Wickham - Hailey and Ernst - 2015 |
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| All Framed Up |
As always, I encourage
readers to comment here. If you would
prefer to comment privately, you can email me at: gerardwickham@gmail.com.
