I recently fell in love. In linocut.

I am delighted that it is a clear process – the same thing that I once loved in porcelain. The effect itself also delights me, in both techniques. An idea/sketch, then transferring it and cutting it out on linoleum, choosing colors and paper, and printing it. Then tests and possible changes. Then each print also has its own order. Put the paint on the plate (I use a piece of glass), spread it on the roller, apply it to the matrix with the roller. Transfer the matrix to the press, arrange the paper evenly, cover it and press it down. Remove and, if it turned out well, set aside to dry.

I like that everything can happen with my hands. That I have a lot of influence on the effect – the choice of paper, I can mix the colors exactly as I want and I can see immediately whether they come out as I thought. Besides, nothing happens digitally here, everything is hand work, which I love so much. All my works are initially analog, but digital prints must necessarily be scanned so that the machine can print the ordered number of identical prints. This has its advantages, but at the moment I am captivated by the thought that in linocut each print is unique – because I am the one who applies the paint and I press the press, there may be spots or different color intensities.

It’s such a revelation for me that I don’t have to define myself by a specific technique. That I already have my own style, favorite lines and colors, and there is really no Art Police that will give me a ticket because “that’s not how it’s used” or “that’s not how it’s done.”

When I thought that the “Hug” linocut would have lines made of glued paper, I thought I was doing it because it would be faster. It wasn’t at all, it took me most of the day. And already in the process I realized that that’s not why I chose it, but because… I prefer it that way, and that’s all. I was pleased, that’s how I saw it, I wanted irregular effects on these fragments. And I like that it makes each print even more unique (and they always are, because that’s the way it is with hand printing, there may be slight differences).

So why did I need to tell myself that it would be more practical? Why couldn’t I first accept that it was ok, that I just had this idea and it didn’t have to make sense? That I can do something just because it will give me pleasure and joy and it doesn’t have to be “profitable”. Do you feel like that sometimes too?

You can read more about acceptance in the context of this graphic in the description of “Hug”. And about the fact that sometimes you are a beginner (again) – in the description of “The Beginning”.