Prints: Untitled, 2021

After the better part of the year making sense of the archives, cataloging work, and sketching out new ideas, it was a treat to get back out to the workshop this fall and actually pull some ink and make some new prints.

This series uses a directional motif that I’ve been thinking about lately and haven’t been able to shake. So, of course, I had to work it out of my system by making it real. Some people have said it reminds them of a castle or flags or mountains – interpretations that are all fine by me.

Each piece features a slightly random sampling of colors, topping out at six colors on some prints. Colors were mixed and applied on the fly and in the moment, so most pieces are unique one-offs while a few ended up in editions of two. Most are printed on white cover stock while a few are on gray, kraft, or chipboard.

All prints “Untitled, 2021″ at 8″ x 10” each.

Prints: New. Improved.

kurt_seidle_xed_7Some prints get wrecked in the printing process. It makes sense that hand-printed works are more susceptible to flaws than mechanically printed ones, but knowing that still doesn’t make it any easier to take. Inconsistencies – whether it’s ink flow, a knick in the stencil, a fingerprint or smudge – can ruin a perfectly good print. It happens. It’s just part of the process. I know this, yet I still take the flaws pretty hard.

But I got tired of feeling this way and sought to do something about it. Rather than looking at flaws as a door closing, I decided to look at them as a window opening. By doing so, there’s an opportunity to add new ideas or, in this case, make corrections. I embraced the flaws and just canceled them out. Literally.

My first step was to unearth slightly less-than-perfect prints from the depths of purgatory (i.e. the neither-here-nor-there void of the flat file) and assess the damage. Next up was fixing them. That’s achieved here by masking the flaws with a big, blunt mark. Simple as that. Rather than just erasing the flaws, I chose to acknowledge and celebrate them.

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In some cases, crossing out the mistakes added to the composition. In others, it was just a means to an end. While making perfect compositions was certainly not the goal, there are some beautiful moments to behold.

There’s beauty in everything. Finding it is just a matter of perspective. Clearly my interest in signage, typography, and found objects influenced the direction, but, in retrospect, there are other references that come to mind, like the butterfly joint in a George Nakashima table or even the knots in a piece of plywood.

These days, it’s about accepting what comes your way. Taking each day as it arrives – with all the highs and lows – and making the best of it. That, in a sense, is what the Correction Series is all about.

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Pictured: “Untitled (Correction)” 2020, “Untitled (Correction)” 2020, “Untitled (Correction)” 2020, “Untitled (Correction)” 2020. 

Prints: Test Dept.

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Up and running slowly but surely this fine 2017 season. I kicked things off, oiled things up and dusted of the cobwebs (from the elbows, that is) with a little test run of an old favorite.

In case you wanted know, here are a few things I learned printing that day:

  1. Printing with art stretched on wooden frames is really frustrating. After washing the ink out of the frame a few times, the wood begins to bow and warp making it quite difficult to get a clean, even pull of the squeegee. And this is a treated frame, too. Maybe it’s just old. Aluminum frames are much better in this regard – and much lighter, too.
  2. Printing with copper (a mixture of gold and red and perhaps something else) thickens and gunks up your screen rather quickly. A bit of humidity certainly doesn’t help the situation. But I was surprised at how quickly said situation deteriorated.

This season is shaping up to be a little more unusual – pleasantly and surprisingly so – than seasons past. I’m rolling with it and I think the body of work will reflect this embrace of the fluidity.

More to come.

 

Prints: Monoprint #17, 2015

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We’re gearing up for what looks to be another stellar year for Cherokee Heights Arts Festival this Saturday in Marietta, Georgia. It should be a beautiful day—bright, sunny and cool—perfect for celebrating the creativity that abounds in our neighborhood.

Knits and Prints will have a ton of new work to share, so come out and stop by our booth. With that in mind, here’s a new monoprint fresh from the studio—eight colors on white.

Prints: Intermission

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In the midst of a hectic spring schedule, I’ve been working on a bunch of different editions all at once. Typically I go one at time, but this season I seem to be ping-ponging back and forth between various themes, aesthetics and colorways—all at once. Not sure whether it’s the pace of things, the weather or what, but I’m rolling with it and am anxious to see how things shake out.

In the meantime, here are a few artifacts from the last couple of sessions. They’re just pieces of the process, but still worthy of some attention.

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Prints: And We’re Off!

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Have I titled a blog post this way before? Seems like I’m always kickstarting the season with some sort of cliched header and for some reason this one seems familiar. Yes? No? Oh well, we’ll just go with it.

I started printing again last week with a simple two color design. Arrows. It’s all about the arrows. Don’t get me started about arrows. Oh really? You haven’t heard? Well then, let me discuss. I’ll keep it brief. Promise.

Arrows are the perfect form. They’re bold, angular, directional, geometric, purposeful, iconic, graphic, dynamic, exclamatory, international and come in all sorts of different shapes and sizes. All that and yet they still manage to say what needs to be said: this/you, here. You can’t get much better than that.


Prints: Untitled (Chevron), 2014

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I usually don’t revisit artwork once it’s been retired. Last year, though, I was asked to reconsider and take another look at my Chevron print of 2012. While initially reluctant, I said yes (I’m apprehensive about delving too deeply back into the archive for fear of watering down—or extinguishing—that initial spark. I’m also inclined to keep pressing forward and letting the past speak for itself. There are so many ideas and so little time that I’d rather just work on something new). But, alas, I’m getting off-topic. In short, I’m grateful for the extra arm-twisting because it allowed me to see the work with fresh eyes and perhaps bring something new to the table. And lo and behold, inspiration struck.

The latest addition/edition from Fall 2014 was something that popped into my head fully formed: the chevron in green and gold. That was it. No fussing with swatches, no anguished sketching or scrutiny. It had to be be kelly green and metallic gold—right from the get-go. If pressed for some statement on inspiration, I’d say that these colors simply remind me of my hometown. That’s not a statement of longing (nor one of criticism, for that matter), it just is.  It’s an abstraction of things in the air in that place—an apt representation that just feels right.