Fireflies at midnight

Days 64-70 of the 100 Day Project. This week’s woodcut plant study was the monkeyflower.

MONKEYFLOWERS: Monkeyflowers grow in moist places throughout the country. The one common eastern species, purplish-blue in color, favors woodlands. The more numerous western species (generally golden yellow) grow along stream margins and in mountain meadows. Over half the species are known only from California. The leaves, usually small and toothed, grow opposite on the squarish stems, 1 to 2 feet high. — Summer and fall. Figwort Family.

~ FLOWERS by Dr. Herbert Zim and Dr. Alexander Martin

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My soul is in the sky

~A Midsummer Night’s Dream

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The summer is thick and heavy with humidity and the heady smell of elderflower musk. They bloom in the garden, in the ditches, at the edge of the forest. All you have to do is step outside and breathe deeply to find them as their scent blankets the earth. It might be more accurate to say that they find you.

But now it’s midnight now as I’m rolling ink onto the woodblock for the millionth time tonight. It’s become a reflexive ritual as my hand moves back and forth, the ink squelching, the fan clicking above.

In old Slavic folk charms, repeating a word or a phrase a specific number of times in a spell was believed to strengthen its intention and effect. I wonder if this was a reflection of daily life, how repetition was the rhythm of routine before industry and technology removed it. The kneading of bread before the Kitchen Aid, the swing of the scythe before the combine, the spinning of the loom before fast fashion.

This repetition, this devotion to the mundane was a prayer practiced over and over again. This is what it feels to print piece after piece of artwork instead of relying on a printer. Each piece is the same yet has a slight uniqueness as the grain of the wood presents differently through the ink from print to print.

Lost in the work, I am pulled out by a soft glow at the window. I look up to see a single firefly tap tap tapping at the glass. It feels playful and timeless. How many printmakers have burned the midnight oil over the centuries with only the nocturnal insects as companions?

I hang each print from a clothespin on an older ladder I bought at a barn sale many years ago to dry. There was a time when I was always looking for ways to optimize my time and energy, to do things “smarter not harder”. But somehow it seems these things that take the most time and attention just feel better.

This is one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned from motherhood. Hard doesn’t mean bad. Hard is just hard, and that can be good.

This is my first large batch edition. In woodcut printmaking, an edition encompasses all of the prints made from a woodblock. Each print is titled, signed, and includes what number the print is in the edition. These are typically written in pencil on the print because it makes it difficult to copyright, since each piece is an original. Digital copies would defeat the whole purpose.

For all paid subscribers who filled out the form to receive a print, they are currently still drying and will be shipped shortly! Mullein felt like the most appropriate plant to carve in this batch. Along the trails they are so full and fluffy and full of medicine right now.

This is the summer I love. The kind that stretches time and slows everything to a crawl. It seems necessary. This gives us the chance to take in all of the sensations exploding around us as the earth comes into full bloom. It would be impossible to smell, feel, hear, touch and taste all of this bounty if time moved forward as it typically does.

freshly wilted motherwort

As we enter a new month, may we all find inspiration in the hard and devotion in the repetition.

Much love,

Val