I have always had an interest in mark making on paper, and for many years envisioned using textiles to emboss paper. After seeing the work of printmaker Betty Goodwin in 2010, I was inspired to explore soft ground etchings with my knitted swatches.
In my process of creating soft ground copper etchings, and printing from the copper plate, I begin with knitting and starching the lace. I then prepare a copper plate, deburring the edges, filing them smooth so they don’t cut the paper, wet sanding through multiple grits, polishing the plate and degreasing it. That clean surface is then coated with a soft ground, an asphaltum and beeswax coating.
The knitting is then placed on the coated plate and put through the press. The knitting leaves an impression in the wax. After further protecting the areas that I don’t want to etch with a vinyl backing and Sharpie, I etch the plate in ferric chloride. This etches the plate anywhere the knitting made that impression in the wax, creating the image that will be inked, and then printed on paper.
PHOTO BY ERNEST CADEGAN
Constraints of space and materials have further stretched my techniques to include direct textile relief prints, so that I can work with larger textile pieces that would otherwise be too cumbersome or expensive to accommodate.
Having the opportunity to combine the two mediums that I love most is a great privilege. Elissa Barnard of NS reviews captured why I choose to print knits in a 2022 review of my work: “The prints are a story of pattern and imagery holding and memorializing the original.”
The creation of work is inherently risky. As we explore and push the boundaries of our skills and equipment, there are bound to be unexpected outcomes. In the creation of my recent Arts Nova Scotia-supported body of work Contexture, a series of prints that is a culmination of my interest in textiles and mark making to preserve the textures and patterns of knit and fabric, I experienced challenges due to the size of the work I was creating.
As large pieces of paper went through the press, there was shifting, causing creases on the last one-third of the print. I spent time with my longtime mentor, established printmaker Bonnie Baker, fine-tuning the printmaking process to eventually have successful outcomes, but in the process created several large-scale proofs of the works that had creases in a small part of the print.
These proofs are the catalyst for a new body of work, I am Torn and I am Mended. This series will explore ways to salvage those creased prints of textiles by mending them, similar to the way you would repair a torn or lovingly worn textile. I will expand on this concept by seeking out handmade garments and textiles — at secondhand stores, flea markets or from members of my community — that have been discarded due to damage or wear that make them, like the creased prints, appear to be worthless.
For me, these areas of wear are a metaphor for my own relationship with my body, and my ability to create work as a textile artist and printmaker. As someone who lives with a genetic condition that impacts my mobility, day-to-day health and risk of injury, I see myself in those threadbare pieces. With each injury mended, scars and staples added to my physical body, holding things together and extending my usefulness, perhaps not as I was originally created.
My intention with this body of work is to ask the viewer to interpret those layers of repair and mending as second chances, or things that make you stronger. A reframing of what might once have been considered unsalvageable, but which now is given the care required to extend its life.
The inclusion of found textiles will provide the viewer the opportunity to imagine the history of the textile piece. Whose hands worked the needle, thread or loom to create the original piece? Was it passed down through generations? Was the wear incurred through years of use, or one damaging event? In most cases it will be impossible to know the answers, but the viewer can imagine the possibilities, and appreciate the care that has been taken with each textile. Through this process of printing, found or gifted textiles preserve their story — even if we are not privy to narrative. The textiles are handmade, a marker of time and the place where they’re from.
The body of work I am Torn and I am Mended will have two components. I will begin with a found textile garment that I will starch to make stiff so that it is easier to be mounted for the viewer to see the details. The focus will be on the wear or damage, a hole or an edge unraveled. The starched textile will be printed using either a direct textile relief process, or a more technical soft ground copper etching, depending on the size of the piece.
The damaged area of the textile in the print will be embellished with either duplicate stitch or basic visible mending directly onto the paper. The mended section will be duplicated or impressed on a prepped copper plate and etched. That small etching will then be printed on a blank piece of paper that will be stitched into the damaged area of the textile object.
The result will be a diptych with one piece being the printed textile with embellishment, and the other being the textile itself with its printed repair on paper.
The majority of the work takes place in my studio in the Gaspereau Valley. Thanks to the community of printmakers, studios and colleges who have invited me into their print-making shops to learn and explore, I’ve had the opportunity to see the different ways artists work.
There is Bob Morouney of Hidden House Press, where everything is in its place, and Bob Hainstock the printmaker, whose workspace is much more organic. The precision and orderliness of the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design University and the printshop at Sunbury Shores are something to strive for. The sense of community at Liz Shepherd’s studio in Boston, Massachusetts, and Th’YARC Printshop in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, will keep me coming back. When visiting Rabbittown Press in Fredericton, New Brunswick, I am reminded that bigger isn’t always better.
Over the past decade, I have added several large work surfaces, an etching press with 29” wide bed, a three-tub stainless sink with cold water only, a floor and rigid heddle loom, spinning wheel, textile and printmaking books galore — and incredible scenery. The space is light-filled both from the windows at each end, and abundant overhead and task lighting.
Each piece of equipment, every detail of the space, has a story behind it. My press was built by a friend who is an engineer, machinist and expert scrounger; the wheel on the press is a boat wheel from another good friend.
I can’t wait to share the space and the stories with visiting artists and collectors.
♦♦♦
From Isabelle Fish | In preparation for our trip to Nova Scotia, I put an open call on Instagram for local studios interested in welcoming us in their space and sharing their savoir faire with us. Julie Rosvall was the first to answer. Every interaction with her has been an opportunity to reflect on the values of craft and the intricacies of creating a piece. Julie’s work is often a narrative of her personal story. So it is with respect and gentleness that we should approach her work.
I have always had an interest in mark making on paper, and for many years envisioned using textiles to emboss paper. After seeing the work of printmaker Betty Goodwin in 2010, I was inspired to explore soft ground etchings with my knitted swatches.
In my process of creating soft ground copper etchings, and printing from the copper plate, I begin with knitting and starching the lace. I then prepare a copper plate, deburring the edges, filing them smooth so they don’t cut the paper, wet sanding through multiple grits, polishing the plate and degreasing it. That clean surface is then coated with a soft ground, an asphaltum and beeswax coating.
The knitting is then placed on the coated plate and put through the press. The knitting leaves an impression in the wax. After further protecting the areas that I don’t want to etch with a vinyl backing and Sharpie, I etch the plate in ferric chloride. This etches the plate anywhere the knitting made that impression in the wax, creating the image that will be inked, and then printed on paper.
PHOTO BY ERNEST CADEGAN
Constraints of space and materials have further stretched my techniques to include direct textile relief prints, so that I can work with larger textile pieces that would otherwise be too cumbersome or expensive to accommodate.
Having the opportunity to combine the two mediums that I love most is a great privilege. Elissa Barnard of NS reviews captured why I choose to print knits in a 2022 review of my work: “The prints are a story of pattern and imagery holding and memorializing the original.”
The creation of work is inherently risky. As we explore and push the boundaries of our skills and equipment, there are bound to be unexpected outcomes. In the creation of my recent Arts Nova Scotia-supported body of work Contexture, a series of prints that is a culmination of my interest in textiles and mark making to preserve the textures and patterns of knit and fabric, I experienced challenges due to the size of the work I was creating.
As large pieces of paper went through the press, there was shifting, causing creases on the last one-third of the print. I spent time with my longtime mentor, established printmaker Bonnie Baker, fine-tuning the printmaking process to eventually have successful outcomes, but in the process created several large-scale proofs of the works that had creases in a small part of the print.
These proofs are the catalyst for a new body of work, I am Torn and I am Mended. This series will explore ways to salvage those creased prints of textiles by mending them, similar to the way you would repair a torn or lovingly worn textile. I will expand on this concept by seeking out handmade garments and textiles — at secondhand stores, flea markets or from members of my community — that have been discarded due to damage or wear that make them, like the creased prints, appear to be worthless.
For me, these areas of wear are a metaphor for my own relationship with my body, and my ability to create work as a textile artist and printmaker. As someone who lives with a genetic condition that impacts my mobility, day-to-day health and risk of injury, I see myself in those threadbare pieces. With each injury mended, scars and staples added to my physical body, holding things together and extending my usefulness, perhaps not as I was originally created.
My intention with this body of work is to ask the viewer to interpret those layers of repair and mending as second chances, or things that make you stronger. A reframing of what might once have been considered unsalvageable, but which now is given the care required to extend its life.
The inclusion of found textiles will provide the viewer the opportunity to imagine the history of the textile piece. Whose hands worked the needle, thread or loom to create the original piece? Was it passed down through generations? Was the wear incurred through years of use, or one damaging event? In most cases it will be impossible to know the answers, but the viewer can imagine the possibilities, and appreciate the care that has been taken with each textile. Through this process of printing, found or gifted textiles preserve their story — even if we are not privy to narrative. The textiles are handmade, a marker of time and the place where they’re from.
The body of work I am Torn and I am Mended will have two components. I will begin with a found textile garment that I will starch to make stiff so that it is easier to be mounted for the viewer to see the details. The focus will be on the wear or damage, a hole or an edge unraveled. The starched textile will be printed using either a direct textile relief process, or a more technical soft ground copper etching, depending on the size of the piece.
The damaged area of the textile in the print will be embellished with either duplicate stitch or basic visible mending directly onto the paper. The mended section will be duplicated or impressed on a prepped copper plate and etched. That small etching will then be printed on a blank piece of paper that will be stitched into the damaged area of the textile object.
The result will be a diptych with one piece being the printed textile with embellishment, and the other being the textile itself with its printed repair on paper.
The majority of the work takes place in my studio in the Gaspereau Valley. Thanks to the community of printmakers, studios and colleges who have invited me into their print-making shops to learn and explore, I’ve had the opportunity to see the different ways artists work.
There is Bob Morouney of Hidden House Press, where everything is in its place, and Bob Hainstock the printmaker, whose workspace is much more organic. The precision and orderliness of the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design University and the printshop at Sunbury Shores are something to strive for. The sense of community at Liz Shepherd’s studio in Boston, Massachusetts, and Th’YARC Printshop in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, will keep me coming back. When visiting Rabbittown Press in Fredericton, New Brunswick, I am reminded that bigger isn’t always better.
Over the past decade, I have added several large work surfaces, an etching press with 29” wide bed, a three-tub stainless sink with cold water only, a floor and rigid heddle loom, spinning wheel, textile and printmaking books galore — and incredible scenery. The space is light-filled both from the windows at each end, and abundant overhead and task lighting.
Each piece of equipment, every detail of the space, has a story behind it. My press was built by a friend who is an engineer, machinist and expert scrounger; the wheel on the press is a boat wheel from another good friend.
I can’t wait to share the space and the stories with visiting artists and collectors.
♦♦♦
From Isabelle Fish | In preparation for our trip to Nova Scotia, I put an open call on Instagram for local studios interested in welcoming us in their space and sharing their savoir faire with us. Julie Rosvall was the first to answer. Every interaction with her has been an opportunity to reflect on the values of craft and the intricacies of creating a piece. Julie’s work is often a narrative of her personal story. So it is with respect and gentleness that we should approach her work.
The Women Create Foundation is a catalyst for small but significant strides to empower women creators through grants that help bring projects to life and foster innovation.
From Isabelle Fish | In preparation for our trip to Nova Scotia, I put an open call on Instagram for local studios interested in welcoming us in their space and sharing their savoir faire with us. Julie Rosvall was the first to answer. Every interaction with her has been an opportunity to reflect on the values of craft and the intricacies of creating a piece. Julie’s work is often a narrative of her personal story. So it is with respect and gentleness that we should approach her work.
