Gabriel's Lily

The new project here at Phoenicia is Annunciation, an illustrated book of poems by a diverse group of contemporary women. The project began in my mind after I did this relief print, back in December of 2014. About 15 poets who I've invited will be contributing poems; I'll be designing the book and producing a set of relief-print illustrations to go with the texts.

This week I finally got going on the new prints, and thought you might like to see the first one in process. This is "Gabriel's Lily." It started out with the pencil drawing, above, to which I added a hand grasping the stem.

The translation from pencil drawing to a block print is worked out in pen and ink; I usually end up with a pile of drawings and worked-over photocopies. Once the idea is fairly set, I reverse the drawing and transfer it to the linoleum, and ink it to minimize mistakes in cutting.

Starting to carve. I use the drawing as a guide, but the vigor and expressive energy in a print comes through the cutting itself: I have to trust myself to add that intangible element through my hands, and a certain amount of freedom and letting-go. This is something I hope I'm getting better at as I gain experience in the medium.

This is the back side of a print as it starts to emerge. I'm using a new ink, Akua, that cleans up with soap and water and doesn't have any odor, so I had to do a lot of experimenting to find the right consistency and thickness on several different Japanese papers. It's pretty different from my usual oil-based ink, but I came to like it.

The block went through several revisions too, until it arrived at this state. That's the scariest part: I wanted to simplify parts of the design, but knew if I went too far, I'd wreck it. Here's my table with the rolled-out ink and baren, the block, and a finished print. What you don't see is me saying "whew!"

A bunch of prints hung up to dry.

And the artist's proof. The book will be coming out in late fall, 2015, and I'll be sharing more of the process as it comes together. It's possible that this particular print won't even make the final cut; what was important was to get started. I'm thrilled about the poems I've received so far, and inspired by them: so many different interpretations and responses to this story, by excellent poets of different faiths and backgrounds. All the texts will be submitted by July 1, and then it's up to me to finish the work of making it all into a book.

It also makes me so happy to see how the collaborative publishing efforts that began with the Ecotone Wiki and carried on into the online literary magazine qarrtsiluni, co-managed for years by Dave Bonta and me, continue to spawn new projects and new relationships. Dave has just started a really cool new project that I'll tell you about in another post, and most of the poets who are working on Annunciation are people I met through qarrtsiluni or other online venues. I sometimes forget to stop and trace the lineage of those relationships back, since all this has happened over just one decade, but it strikes me as a sort of rapid evolutionary process, where creativity and human relationships have partnered with advances in technology and communication, changing all of our lives and probably our brains as well.

Comments

[Nina T]

Just wonderful. Thanks for sharing the process.

[Nic Sebastian]

Yes yes - love it!

[Hattie]

That is wonderful, strong, expressive work. I know this will be a book I'll want to own.

[Vivian]

Such a RAMBUNCTIOUS flower!!! Right on!

[Natalie]

This is a great project, Beth, and I much look forward to seeing its development, all your prints, and of course the finished book. It's interesting that adding the hand (with a firm grasp) to the lily has turned it into a revolutionary symbol and removed any 'flowery' aspects. Did this just happen in the process of working out your drawing, or was it intentional? Would it be far-fetched to interpret it as Gabriel's secret sign announcing a revolutionary birth?

[Beth]

Thanks, Nina, Nic, Hattie, Vivian, Natalie!

Natalie, what's fascinating to ME is your comment, because it articulates something I noticed about the "feeling" of the print but haven't really been able to put into words. Yes, maybe that's a perfectly feasible interpretation! All I knew was that I didn't want it to be a wimpy "flowery" gesture, but something firm and strong, and while I was consciously trying to emphasize the lily, the hand just kept insisting on equal time. In the first version of the print (see the second photo from the top) the hand was actually behind the frame. When I cut off the bottom of the block for the second version, the hand came forward and the lily seemed to tilt back - an illusion, but another way in which the hand insisted on its importance. I think I want to use the traditional symbols of Mary, which figure in art and also in some of the poems, but in a new and more active way. Thanks for helping me think through this further!

[Martine]

Fascinating process and beautiful results!
You should consider giving workshops :)

[Dave]

Terrific print — so full of energy. I hadn't realized this was going to be an illustrated work. Can't wait to see the finished product!

[Duchesse]

Farthest from a "wimpy flower"; the vigor you'd hoped for is abundant and evident. Fantastic project, Beth.

[Rachel Barenblat]

What a gorgeous print, Beth -- and I also love getting glimpses of how the process unfolds, and the different stages along the way. Now I am thinking about similarities and differences between printmaking and poetry; the original draft, the cutting away, knowing that if one cuts too much the whole thing will be lost. (Though of course with a poem one can simply write more lines; with a block of wood, not so much.)

I have one of your prints framed on my desk at work and I look at it daily with joy.

[Jean]

Of course - I worked under the fist and rose symbol for many years, but didn't realise that - as Natalie says - that's what this invokes! How mysterious and wonderful that it shows up here, and what a powerful, haunting book I'm sure this will be.