When I was younger, I thought that the more "talented" an artist was, the better they were at depicting an object exactly as it looked. I would spend hours, therefore, trying to capture the exact light, the way water reflected the sky, the detail of every rock.
It took several years of art classes and some very persuasive professors to make me realize that it was the mood; the way I felt when I witnessed the scene, that I wanted to capture...through my own artistic expression.
The processes involved in printmaking were exactly what I needed to learn to give up control: especially the monotype process, where one is painting on acrylic, placing paper on top of the plate, running it through a press, and repeating the process again and again, until there is enough depth of color and "detail" to consider the work complete. When I graduated to large-scale monotypes (usually 4' x 6" in size) I was required to use much of my body to paint on that plate: fingers, elbows, forearms and I quickly learned that it was that, and the total lack of my control, when the ink would squish together under the weight of the rollers, that made the resulting work "fresh" and full of expression.
Yes, there are "happy accidents", and some that are not so fortuitous, and I admit that many efforts have met the trash can. But there is an inherent life to the successful work, and an undeniable realization of one's sensations.
Debbie Pasko
Oops, I forgot to caption the artwork: It is called "Cabo Dawn", it is a monotype that is 42"x 60" in size, created with oil-based printer's inks, oil sticks, and oil pastels. I sold it a couple of years ago.
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