Sunday, May 29, 2016

Journey into Printmaking -- Part 3, Copperplate Etching

If you've been following along with this series of posts, you know already that I was signed up for a copperplate etching course with Robert Morouney at the Saint John Art Centre.  This was a two-day course, over consecutive weekends, so clearly introductory rather than in-depth, but it was a really great exposure to the technique... and I took careful notes... something I sometimes regret not doing more carefully at NSCAD!

Copperplate etching is as it sounds: you take a plate of copper and using a sharp tool, you etch a drawing into the surface.  When you coat the plate with ink, rolling it on exactly as for the previously described linocuts, the etched lines fill with ink.  You carefully wipe the remaining ink off the surface of the plate, so only the lines remain inked, then you run the plate through a press that transfers the drawing onto the paper.  It also embosses the shape of the plate into the paper, resulting in a subtle three-dimensional aspect to the print.

There are similarities and differences from the linocut technique.  Here, instead of making a drawing out of black shapes and white shapes, you make a line drawing... and again you face the decisions concerning what lines are essential and those that can be dispensed with.  Although it's possible to do shades of grey in etching, we didn't explore them in this course, basic as it was.  The approach we used to shades of grey concerned the kinds of mark-making used to fill various parts of the drawing.  As with the linocuts, the drawing must be reversed onto the plate in order to print in the right orientation.

We were to come to the first weekend with a drawing prepared.  Having been repeatedly told about Rembrandt's numerous self-portrait etchings, I decided to emulate him -- heck, why not?  The resulting drawing actually looks somewhat like me, and incorporates some of Bob's mark-making techniques learned in the earlier course, in the background.  A close look will reveal that even though I understand that the drawing on the plate has to be the reverse of what will appear in the print, I still don't quite have the technique down: my initials appear in the proper, right-hand corner, but the j is backwards.

Self-portrait 2016, copperplate etching, 2-3/8" x 3-3/8"



Having been exposed to the basics, we were to come to the second class with a plate prepared with a somewhat larger drawing.  I had taken a photo that I wanted to use and worked hard at it, incorporating some of my own intuitive mark-making and some of Bob's more graphic visual techniques.  However, I blew it again; enthusiasm overtook me and I scratched the drawing onto the first plate the right way around, i.e. the wrong way for printing, and had to beg for another plate to work with.  

The results underscored the earlier lesson: in printmaking, the original drawing must be right or the results won't be right.  This is a scene looking across the St. Martins salt marsh.  It shows promise, but the squiggles in the mid-ground are channels where water moves through the marsh that are incorrectly drawn to properly convey the receding distance to the flat waters of the Bay of Fundy, beyond.  And though I used Bob's mark-making techniques in the water bodies, I don't like the results; they speak with his voice, not mine.

St. Martins Salt Marsh, copperplate etching, 3-1/2" x 4-5/8"


I have to give Bob credit; one of the last things he taught us was how to prepare a copper plate for etching.  As a result, we each left the course with a prepared plate ready for making another print.  My plan is to re-do the one above, working thoughtfully on the drawing in order to get it "right", meaning consistent with the vision in my mind. 

I don't really see myself taking up copperplate etching in a serious way... so far, I prefer the positive and negative spaces of linocuts over the lines of etching... but I think I've finally got the lesson concerning orientation.  It's much like the adage to carpenters: measure twice, cut once.  I think, I hope, I'll know enough next time to stop and make sure of what I'm doing before I reach for the carving tools.




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