Image of the Week: Sleep
© D. Yael Bernhard
This linoleum block print is a conceptual portrayal of an experience woven into hundreds of nights – that of shared sleep with my children when they were babies and toddlers. Nearly a decade of my life was devoted to this crucial phase of their three little lives. I experienced them as tiny mammals, sweet little primates, tender and trusting. Though my sleep was interrupted, especially in the early months of frequent nursing, it was worth the pleasure of curling up with my little ones in the wee hours. So normal did this way of sleeping become, I felt no need to qualify the image in the title. Night after night, month after month, for me and for millions of mothers over countless millennia, this is just a normal way to sleep.
The white lines of this original print were carved out of linoleum with a chisel. Then the surface was rolled with black ink, paper was laid on top, and the linoleum was pushed through my table-top cast iron press. Printed soon after the birth of my third child, it was one of my last linoleum block prints. Both motherhood and homeownership forced me to lay this medium aside, with hopeful intentions to return to it someday. I've yet to unpack my carving tools again – but I haven't lost hope.
Printmaking forces an artist to simplify, simplify, simplify – and to do so in a bold and forthright way. Nothing can be fudged in carving a block: either the ink is there or it isn't. It was my college drawing teacher who first suggested printmaking to me as a technique that would enable my graphic sensibilities to thrive. Influenced as I was by tribal art, for me the medium was a liberating structure. Carving was a different experience from drawing, and presented a special challenge in terms of its irreversible, reductive nature. You can't put back what's physically carved away; instead, I learned to accept and even exploit my mistakes. Hand-carved shapes also took on a special character when printed as a smooth, flat surface.
Linoleum block printing is a low-tech but enormously versatile medium, which can be exploited in different ways. The paper may be prepared ahead of time with textures or patterns that show through blank areas in the printed image. The block may have different colors of ink rolled onto it; or the ink may be applied by hand with a brush or even fingers, to create a one-of-a-kind monoprint. The finished print may be hand-colored, or hand-painted, once dry. Several plates of the same size and shape may be printed successively on the same paper, creating overlays of different carvings. And then there are reductive prints – in which the plate is carved in stages, leaving each layer of printing exposed as the plate is further reduced, creating a unique print that has been changed by successive reductions in the printing surface. Planning backwards from the desired result (and working in reverse, as the plate will be flipped over when printed) is an exercise in strategic thinking.
Throughout my kids' childhoods, I strove to weave art and motherhood together. Rather than either/or, I chose a both/and approach, and drew upon my experience as a mother for artistic inspiration. Kids and art both thrived as I did whatever it took to feed them and foster their growth. I did paintings of my kids, with my kids, while they played, during their naps, and after they went to bed. I worked with them in a sling, on my hip, and in a backpack. I probably printed this particular block with a little one peering over my shoulder. As long as I kept moving, they loved watching me work.
I studied printmaking at the Art Students' League of NY from the age of 18 to 21. Rarely was there a teacher involved – only studio monitors who helped me learn how to safely use acid baths for my etchings – my main medium at the time – and how to operate the enormous presses. I remember the afternoon light that slanted in the high studio windows, and the clotheslines that criss-crossed the room with prints hanging to dry all along them. I worked independently, surrounded by artists of all ages and diverse nationalities, all of us sharing the baths and presses. What a great cauldron of creativity – I loved every minute.
I still have a few original prints of Sleep available. They're about 16" tall. Please inquire if you're interested.
A good week to all!
D Yael Bernhard
http://dyaelbernhard.com
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