I woke up, thinking of that song...
I took a little break last week. I needed to not draw anything for a minute.
About a month ago I booked a Risoprint workshop with Typewronger books. I’ve had multiple requests and a couple of commissions (two of which are blogged here and here) that ask for Riso ready files and delivering hand drawn layers always made me incredibly nervous. While I knew the technical basics and theories behind Riso, my hands didn’t know how it worked, so I couldn’t see how the image would ultimately end up. It always felt like throwing drawings into a deep hole in the ground with my fingers crossed and a wish in my heart.
I think also, having the workshop to look forward to on Sunday (you might know her as ‘yesterday’ or later than that depending on when you get here…) allowed me to rest my hands for seven days without the fear I would never draw again.
You know?
Still, the biggest challenge was to not preparing anything before hand.
The night before the workshop, I dreamt of vivid and strange things. When I woke, I had all of Sufjan Stevens ‘Carrie and Lowell’ album in my head. I think I know why, but I’m not going to write about it here.
It’s not a love story or anything. Just a domino fall of thoughts sparked by something someone asked me Tuesday two weeks ago.
On Sunday morning, knowing I didn’t want to go to throw myself at the feet of the Riso Machine with nothing to offer, I wrote this in the back of my Angry Cat Notebook (which also contains some French and some lists and this page is torn in half for a reason I don’t remember).
I split the words, as is my way, into 7 of the 8 panels the booklet would allow. I drew things that I have seen in other places. Things that I have probably drawn elsewhere. My brain was set to ‘low’.
I worked fast in the first colour I had pulled out of my pencil case.
Oars are particularly tricky.
I masking taped two A4 pages together from a stack of scraps my girlfriend gave me and refined my panels.
The day was close and threatened rain. Clouds hung so low over the city they sheared the top of Corstorphine hill right off. The sky was white and the air, too hot.
I used a picture of Tove Jansson in a rowing boat as a reference for this. I set the story around a lighthouse because they’re beautiful and mysterious, and the sea because I wanted to know how the inks and the paper would move together.
I’m going to say right now, if you are looking for a first time Riso experience, I would highly recommend Typewronger’s. Tee’s knowledge and experience are expansive, and their facilitating methods would make it easy for anyone to be able to make a beautiful zine in the time allotted.
The Hall and Oates soundtrack was highly conducive to optimum creativity.
I thought preparing my zine ahead of time would quicken the making, but it took over an hour to create above separations. Tee never rushed us, instead telling us Parisian tales peppered with the odd time update (the clock was broken).
When I was drawing my comic, in my head I was drawing it in black and gold. The workshop allows you to make a two colour zine and these are the colours I saw.
We arrived however and one of the first things we were advised against were using the colours ‘black and gold.’ Long story short, black is boring and gold is gloopy. Fair enough. Also true.
I reverted to my favourite Riso colour, fluro pink, everything I’ve designed I think has utilised it. Then I chose wild card purple because it was the next darkest ink and one of the colours of the sea at night.
Look now! Look at what we got to do!
You get to print 20 zines. You’re allowed to experiment with different papers. The paper is almost like another ink changing the mood of everything laid upon it.
It was so exciting to see these coming out of the machine!
This little book and it’s brethren, all finished and poorly folded, will be available to buy at the upcoming Sequential Scotland comic convention at the beginning of August. I hope to spend the next few weeks making a few more books and prints for it. Let’s see how far I get…
The break was restorative. Typewronger’s workshop was wonderful reason to make something.
Remember, rest can be as radical as action.