I spent a few hours today on cyanotype experiments, which is mostly noteworthy because I have been wanting to try these for at least a year, bought all the supplies long ago, and just couldn’t find the time to sit down and learn how to do it.
I’d done the little kits with the kids at family camp once, and possibly did the kits myself as a kid at school in the way long ago. But this time, I bought a book (Botanical Cyanotype, Sarah Bourne Rafferty, very clear and helpful), read through the whole thing, and started experimenting in a fairly systematic way.
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I’m realizing that why I love this is actually the same reason I love doing home interior design, love planning a perennial succession garden, love taking photos of that garden, and love working with botanicals and resin — it’s the composition piece of it. How can this disparate collection fit together in a pleasing way, and make something new and striking?
Resin is little tricky that way, since it’s a fluid art, and while you *can* place things precisely, you then need to sort of tack them down (I usually use a drizzle of resin) and let that set, before pouring more resin. Otherwise, it’ll move around as it cures. But sometimes I let it move, because the results can be interesting.
Similarly, you can be very precise and controlled with cyanotyping, or you can do things like double exposures (moving the botanicals partway through the process) — look closely at the poppy mallow cyanotype for an example of that. Or you can spray them with water, or salt, or tea stain them afterwards — there are just a host of organic possibilities to explore.
There’s something about that tension that I find very appealing. The eye that sees the composition, the skill to frame it precisely — but then also, the willingness to let go of control a little bit, to let the organic and ephemeral nature of botanical art come to the foreground.
I suppose that’s why I’m willing to do some wedding and memorial pieces, but I wouldn’t want to do them full-time; a lot of clients would want something very precise, often a perfect reproduction of something like a wedding bouquet, which is totally understandable. But I’m not interested in creating that, especially if it’s going to require things like using pan pastels for ‘color correction’ — basically coloring in the flowers so they look the way they did fresh.
If you come to me, understand that you’re going to get a loose interpretation — and please also accept that botanical elements do fade over time (faster if you leave them in direct sunlight). Nothing lasts forever.
I’m just grateful that some people do seem okay with my artistic approach. I sold “The Lady of Shalott” table this weekend, and hope it will be very happy in its new home in St. Louis.
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Tomorrow, I think I’m going to try cyanotyping on fabric. I’m only allowed to if I spend a few hours on e-mail AND prep for the SLF membership drive (launching Friday), AND if I finish putting away the clean laundry (towels and sheets), AND if I clean up either the basement studio or the sewing space in the attic first. Oh, and I have to go to the Apple Store and see if they can fix my computer. Fun times.
This is the task for this part of summer — putting my house in order, so when fall teaching arrives (only about six weeks away? can that be right? argh…), I can at least pretend I’m starting the semester somewhat under control.
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Some of these pieces will likely be matted and available in the store this weekend.
Serendib House
301 Harrison Street, Oak Park, IL
Wed / Thurs / Fri 1-7
Sat 9-5, Sun 10-4
