Etching

Day and Night

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There an element in the mind that can keep me up at night. Not all the time, but sometimes. Anything almost can do it: taxes, old boyfriends, current work competitors, regret long lasting towards my mother. This last one can especially go on forever as she left her body years and years ago so it’s a no ending one sided conversation. A way I torture myself, I suppose.

In the daytime, all this disappears. No such psychic monster exists on waking. It’s as though the light of day has washed it all away.

There’s an in-between, however. YouTube helps in the middle of the night. If the thoughts become too overpowering, I turn the power over to the phone. I can listen to anything, anytime. My favorite is High Fraser reading Agatha Christie. It’s amazing how many people he can be in an audiobook. I love him.

Sure, maybe murder isn’t a great springboard into the unconscious world of sleep and dream, however Christie has no sex, no violence, no gore or torture. Mostly just intrigue in rich people’s houses.

I could listen to someone on YouTube who is spiritually enlightened. Lord knows there’s an infinite quantity. Problem is I have been on the spiritual path for so many decades, that the path has worn to dirt and walking on it creates clouds of dust which make for hazy vision.

I never saw my school at night. As a child, I left school at 2:30 and I made it home for dinner. We all did. We went to our friends houses or the park. Judy had a long haired dachshund and I had a short haired one. She was my best friend and her house was between school and my house. When time came, dinner bells sounded and mothers yelled. Judy’s house on Winterberry and my house on Maryknoll weren’t too far apart and I was a fast runner in those days.

Only once in 2nd grade did I see my school after dark. It was lit up for a book fair. It was magic. I got a book about dragons and I felt omniscient as I’d just learned to spell.

Now kids are in aftercare till after dark during daylight savings time. No magic in that.

Later as a young adult, I enjoyed pools at night with the round white light coming from the walls underwater: Magic. Walking hand and hand on a golf course under the moon: Magic.

Now, as an older adult, I sit in the hot tub very late at night hearing the owl say “who?who?who?” Magic.

Seems like a dream

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A week ago I leave my home on the coast, taking two flights to arrive in the middle of the country at Anderson Ranch Art Center where I spend 5 days in a workshop.

It is transforming to exchange my struggling professional artist educator role to be a student of someone truly remarkable.

Yesterday was our last day of classes. At dinner, I find it hard to imagine reentering my regular life. It seems so dull after something so rich. This morning we have breakfast together before we leave. Every Anderson Ranch meal offers cookies. Some days we have oatmeal and raisin. Other days: chocolate chip. Today it seems both are offered. Examining them, I pack two chocolate chip cookies in my purse to eat at some point during my long journey home.

It is so hard to leave, I am drawn towards the possibility of studying with this remarkable artist further. I am even considering moving to the middle of the county where he usually teaches. I need a change. 

On landing finally in my home airport after traveling most of the day, I easily resume the role of who I usually am.

Riding the subway home, four people are playing Rock Paper Scissors. I open up the morning’s white paper napkins carefully wrapped around the cookies. I take a bite. Oatmeal.

Dry point intaglio printing

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“Would you like to come up and see my etchings?”


I draw daily. I have been drawing my entire life. I pick up a pen or pencil and draw on a piece of paper. Sometimes I photograph it and print it or post it on social media. I often draw (and paint) on the iPad. Quick and easy. No paper, no pencil, no photography. I can print the image in minutes. I can print hundreds of images in minutes. I can even blow up the thing 3×4 feet and print it in minutes. No big deal.

Not so with etching! Haha! Took me 3 hours to prepare a zinc plate 6×8 inches! First I must bevel and file all the edges, using the metal tool to get rid of the sharp metal edge (which would otherwise rip the blanket on the printing press). Then I spend a couple hours polishing the metal until it shines like a mirror. It is an activity requiring enough effort to make my arm sore the next day. All of this activity is equivalent to opening the iPad or grabbing a piece of paper.

Next, metal tool on now shiny metal surface, I scratch in my drawing. Believe it or not, that’s the easy part!

Once the drawing is done, I ink up the plate. This also takes forever and has to be done “just so”. I want to take the oil base ink off the clear places but keep it in the drawn lines. It is one of the messiest things I’ve ever done. Gloves are discouraged because at one point I use the natural oil of my hand in the final wiping of the plate. Finally I print.


Amazingly enough after all that work a dry point plate will yield TEN exactly the same prints. 20 if you are a genius. After that I can still get an image but not the consistent kind that is required for an edition. Wow!

Talk about old school! This is the original old school; as in hundreds of years ago with Rembrandt and the boys. It’s amazing. I’m hooked. I’ve only been doing this for a week but I intend to eventually be making good prints. What objects of quality they will be.

Also, here is a shout out for my teacher CHARLIE CHAVEZ at Laney Community College in Oakland. It doesn’t get better than Charlie. The man has infinite knowledge and enormous presence. It is an honor to be studying with him.