winter colours

Snow is here, and with it, the colours and sounds of winter are amplified. This is our fourth winter in Toronto, and each year, the phenomenon of snow  continues to captivate us all at home. I love to hear E running down the stairs yelling "it's snowing, it's snowing!"

We enjoy taking walks while the snow is still "untouched", ankle deep and fun, before it turns into a muddy, slushy mess.

First and last images are views from E's bedroom window. The other two, are from our walks.

Crisp, clean, glorious winter days = palettes galore! Here are a few.

From our backyard.

White truly transforms it all.

As of late, I have been paying too much attention to hydrants,
so much so, that I think they are about to become the new pears!

Urban winter palettes: Unexpected, distinctive.

Another day... another year! Almost. I want to sign-off with a good song, a merry song, commemorating 2012 in the company of this highly energetic and creative duo, Pomplamoose.

Pomplamoose, Another Day, released in 2010.

beyond Frida y Diego

There is no doubt in my mind that Frida and Diego helped shed a lot of the positive cultural light under which Mexico found itself in the first half of the 1900's. From the ground up, they built a very favourable and transcendental perception regarding Mexican art. Nonetheless, there are some reservations to this story, considering Mexican art  acquired an extremely narrow-minded attitude through the prodigious years of the "Mexican School of Painting"* that took at least 4 decades to forgo. This  shake-up was  spearheaded by the young and rebellious artists** of the second half of that century (the "rupture" or "break" generation). 

The casualties of these kerfuffles, as it is the history of humanity, were our female artists. Unbelievably enough, Rivera being the main bully: A female muralist? Nonsense! And Frida somehow overshadowed them all. Why her? Come to think of it then, why not her?
The fact of the matter is that little is known regarding other very talented women artists residing in Mexico, both during the times of the hegemonic MSP* and the years when the status quo was challenged**.

The names of these womenfolk came to my attention in the late eighties and early nineties, when (thankfully) many exhibitions about their body of work could be found in Mexico City. The most memorable ones, personally: Maria Izquierdo, Leonora Carrington, Olga Costa, Lilia Carrillo, Irma Palacios, Remedios Varo, Elena Climent. The latter two my absolute favourites.

From left to right: 1-María Izquierdo, Naturaleza viva, oil on canvas, 1946. 2-Leonora Carrington (born in England), Self portrait, oil on canvas, ca. 1937-1938. 3-Olga Costa (born in Germany), La vendedora de frutas, oil on canvas, 1951.

From left to right: 1-Lilia Carrillo, Premonición, acrylic on canvas, 1970.  2-Irma Palacios, Delta, aquatint, 2003.

From left to right: 1-Remedios Varo (born in Spain), La creación de las aves, oil on masonite, 1958. 2-Elena Climent, Sotorefront, oil on linen, 1992.

Remedios Varo has always been at the top of my list, the master of all masters in my book. Recommendation: In the late 80's, Janet A. Kaplan authored a magnificent book on Remedios Varo, Unexpected Journeys, unfortunately out of print. A fascinating life, a mystifying artist.

The one lesson taken from this week's journey is that I truly don't know much about female or male Mexican artists born after 1980--peccato! Note to self: Learn more about contemporary Mexican art.

___________________________________

*Escuela Mexicana de Pintura: Orozco, Siqueiros, Rivera, Covarrubias, Murillo (Dr. Atl), et al.

**Generación de la Ruptura: García Ponce, Cuevas, Felguérez, Gerzo, Mérida, Goeritz, Gironella, et al.

art inspired: Frida y Diego

From 1995 to 1998, F and I had the privilege of living in Coyoacán, Frida Kahlo's neighbourhood in Mexico City. During this time, visits to her house ("La Casa Azul") turned into weekly pilgrimages to this sanctuary of sorts, where I could be found sitting or ambling in tranquil reverie. Her very ingenious talent was ever present, as was the clear connection between her work and the sense of self and place inherent to her pieces. This awareness often sparked a powerful feeling of certainty, never experienced in any other place and every so often, I miss it.

Yesterday, an inkling of that "Casa Azul" notion was recaptured while visiting the exhibit "Frida and Diego, Passion, Politics and Painting". The AGO brought  my Coyoacán back to me, if only for a little while. Though Toronto is home now, the show reminded me of how much I yearn for the explosive and overdramatic cultural scene in Mexico. MÉXICO, vibrant* custodian of prodigious talent.

I like Frida and Diego (Rivera) a lot, and in all honesty, I enjoy them even more on their own and without their politics. Diego's early pieces from his Paris years (ca.1911-1920) are simply incredible, reflecting the obvious influence of the very good company he was keeping while at Montparnasse (Modigliani, Foujita, Chagall and Picasso, to name a few--I can't even begin to imagine what those years must have been like!). My absolute favourite Rivera is from this period, "The Mathematician", in the collection of the Museo Dolores Olmedo Patiño, and currently visiting Toronto (!!!!). Enthralling and quiet wonderment. Brilliant.

Regarding Frida's work, it is hard to decide on a particular favourite. My preferred images, however, came as very pleasant surprises through the lens of Nickolas Muray. I had seen these portraits of Frida plenty of times in postcards and books, but never had the chance to see the actual prints, until yesterday. They are stunning--the saturation and contrast of the colours are mesmerizing. Plus she looks so content, and her hands are beautiful, it seems silly, but I had never noticed them before.

In my opinion, it is important to elaborate on the impact and influence this gifted duo had in Mexican painting, I just need to better organize my thoughts so that they may be set forth succinctly and eloquently, in no way a lecture, but rather, a somewhat informed (I'm no expert) opinion.

For the time being, the song of the day is La Cumbia del Mole. I kept thinking about it throughout my visit to the Gallery. Lila Downs was introduced to me by F in 2007, when we were back in Mexico City. She is a formidable musician and artist, with an unmistakable speck of Frida in her. Seemingly, there is a smidgen of Frida in all us.

---

EMI music is pretty clear about its copyright policies, so in order to avoid problems, I will not post the video. However, click here to view it in youtube with EMI's blessing (Lila Downs, La Cumbia Del Mole, in her album "La Cantina", EMI 2006). Vibrant* is the operative word. 

wabi-sabi perfection

It has been a while since I wanted to write about wabi-sabi, a concept I was first introduced to by a dear friend (DF), in those days my professor in grad school. This awe-striking descriptor refers to the beauty of the imperfect, the exquisiteness of the raw and honest elements within most hand crafted objects. The difference between wabi-sabi and poor quality work is that any object withholding a wabi-sabi spirit is imperfect, yet retains a grace and contemplative serenity that elevates it to a sui generis plane.

Sometimes when one of my prints does not work well, I look at it with very critical eyes,  determining if it is wabi-sabi or just bad craftsmanship. In general, I write them off as unusable, yet, sometimes, I do recognize the allure in the virtuous flaw.
Leonard Koren's book Wabi-Sabi For Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers provides a good overview of wabi-sabi, my only misgiving about recommending this book is that it does not end, but rather abruptly stops, leaving the reader (or at least me) a bit disconcerted.

In truth, I have discovered the perfect embodiment of wabi-sabi in my E's work. She is a ceramist, a potter, and at 13, a very talented one. Yes, this is mom speaking, but still, her ability is immediately recognizable. On Saturday (December 8) she held her first fund-raiser for Free The Children, pledging to donate all proceeds to this exceptional organization with which she has been involved since late summer, and I am delighted to report she did splendidly. Not only did E sell all of her pieces (at different price ranges), but received the undeniable support of those who stopped by the youth vendors at City of Craft, a very positive experience to all young artists.

Her work is developing, and she is not afraid to experiment, unknowingly embracing the true nature of wabi-sabi, resulting in extraordinarily dainty pieces. These are a few examples of her work from my personal collection.

open for business

On Monday, inkfibre (a.k.a. yours truly!!!) concluded its 5-day participation at the One Of A Kind Show, Christmas Edition 2012. The show runs for a few more days, until Sunday (December 2), so you can still visit it if you happen to be in the Toronto area. Not much can be articulated at this point regarding this remarkable experience (it seems the brain has gone on a mini vacation), nonetheless,  the words of the Master will express the sentiments that accompany the fulfillment of this particular endeavour:

"It didn't matter whether I was called an artist, or designer, or illustrator, or whatever else it was. The core value was always the act of making things and the transformation of an idea that you hold in your mind that becomes real or material. That to me still is the glory of any creative activity."

                                                                                                                             --Milton Glaser--

GRATITUDE 

Though this was a one-woman show, not such thing would have been possible without the unconditional help and support of F and E as well as friends directly or indirectly involved in this venture (AD and MD I'm looking at you). From counsel and feedback, to sharing your own sources, from helping set up the booth. For coming by and saying hello, or calling and writing to give your support. To the incredible ladies at the Contemporary Textile Co-op and all at Rotman’s Business Edge program. For being amazing show neighbours (nun of a kind--zigzagstitches, fiberalley and Lois Lane).

To you all, thank you.

The "maestrísima", Natalie Merchant, Kind and Generous, from her album Ophelia, released in 1998 by Elektra.
Performed at the VH1 Live, 2005.

seeing red

A deluge of red, that is what happened on Sunday at the studio. After pondering a lot on the matter, (red has not been part of my palette in quite a while), I decided to print some tea towels in this colour, given that a lot of the feedback reflected on the absence of red, which obviously raised a [red-ha!] flag.
When receiving feedback, it is our absolute responsibility as designers/artists/makers to edit the information that is coming our way, after all, even though we are not taking dictation, we should always be genuinely interested in what our audience has to say. So, if one person mentions this colour is necessary, you take note of that, but when at different times numerous people tell you to seriously consider it, you pay close attention. After all, the "market is speaking", and you want the product to do well (this would be a completely different conversation if we were referring to a fine art piece). In my experience this is not an easy colour to work with, mainly because it has to be the "right" one. Fortunately, the "right" hue had already been mixed, as I had originally planned to include it in the pillows colour ways for Talavera.

In preparation for last Sunday, and considering I had no umbrella to help me through the wet weather we've been getting, I treated myself to a beautiful red marimekko umbrella, and allowed myself a few contemplative moments under the cover of such fabulous redness.

Detail: marimekko red kivet umbrella.

The first two images (for Antigua) are for Roohi. She very articulately delivered a solid discourse as to why red needed to be included.

From left to right: 1-Antigua collection, main design to the right. 2-Antigua second coordinate. 3-Talavera in red.

REGISTRATION--PART DEUX
The matter of registration was brought up not too long ago (see post for Monday, 15 October 2012). The second system was put to the test on Sunday, rendering excellent results. By drawing a straight line (on tape) on the drop cloth, the registration marks were easy to follow, with no gaps or overlaps in sight. Four yards of gorgeousness.

The song "ojalá que llueva café", perfectly captures the sounds of "Talavera in red" in the form of an incomparable "son huasteco". An excellent cover by Café Tacuba from their album Avalancha De Éxitos, 1997 (the original song is by Juan Luis Guerra). Enjoy!

 

the sense of a beginning

Yesterday I finished this week's "subway" book, The Sense Of An Ending by Julian Barnes. Profoundly puzzling. Before I move on to elaborate about its riddling content, let me explain about these traveling companions. My "subway" books have two main characteristics: One, they are the perfect size to fit in a bag. Two, their story lines are, without fail, enthralling (to the point of sometimes missing stops), therefore, since they are only read during short commutes, I am able to enjoy their gripping content for a prolonged period of time.
Back to Mr. Barnes' writing. It took me about 16 hours to fully process and decipher what it all meant (I won't spoil it for you). Fitting though, is to mention the fact that I woke up this morning at around 5, rather suddenly and completely bewildered, with full understanding of the diegesis. Fascinatingly terrible, brilliantly written, including numerous "no they couldn't have" moments.

The front and back covers, by the way, are beautifully designed (one word: dandelion).

This little introduction is pertinent merely because I'm borrowing most of the title and placing it under a much brighter light, the common thread being another epiphany while working on my own puzzle (project).
Last night, the last little details that will comprise the branding and marketing of the products started to finally come together. I had a very good idea of how they should be resolved, yet, for one reason or another, nothing had not come to fruition. A few breaks, and seven hours later (I didn't realise how late it was) these loose ends were taken care of, ready for a final critique this morning with J, business guru (muchas, muchas gracias).

Preliminary mock-ups and lots of amazing ribbons to consider. Mokuba on 575 Queen Street West has an incredible selection of gorgeous ribbons (here is a blog entry from Canadian House And Home). Thank you so much R, for sharing the whereabouts of this exceptional place.

There is still a lot of ground to cover, and only a few weeks to go. However, the general feeling around this venture is not one of an ending, but the beginning of something good and promising, most definitely worth all the hard work and dedication.
To commemorate the occasion, here is walk, invigoratingly auspicious.

 

Foo Fighters, from the album Wasting Light, 2011--itunes festival 2011.

work in progress: new colours and registration printing

COLOUR
Thursday last week I had the fortune of having three amazing women visit the studio, such excellent friends. I was really moved by their genuine interest and enthusiastic feedback to what has been produced so far. A lot was said regarding colour and trending, and how important it is to do the research around the latter to gain insight and better understanding of what may be ephemeral and what may be timeless. I presented them with four colour alternatives, generating a most candid  and engrossing conversation regarding hues, personal preferences and how Pantone holds an important part in the design vernacular--A had the Pantone forecast for 2013 handy on her phone screen. After much consideration and editing, we decided on three colours, two of which have already been mixed and tested.

Red is the colour that I am the most intrigued by since I really don't use it in my work, yet it is part of the new palette.

PRINT 
The weekend provided the time for registration printing. There are two important issues that make registration somewhat difficult on the personal level: One, there is no registration bar on the table. Two, I'm very short, and the table is somewhat tall, therefore, large format printing is not an option given that I print on my own, and my arm span is not adequate.

So, I have devised a couple of systems that I think could work for railroaded registration printing. For those new to the trade, regular registration printing happens on a perpendicular [imaginary] line in relation to the selvedges (the finished edges) of the cloth. A railroaded print is parallel to these selvedges, therefore, it allows the [not very tall] printer to be close to the edges of both fabric and table, and with the use of a reasonably sized screen, printing becomes accessible.

For the first printing system, tee plates were attached to the screen (F helped me), to create a natural corner edge between the screen and the table, facilitating the printing process while sliding the screen to the registration markers*. It worked fine, but the table edges are a bit uneven, generating an off-register of a few millimetres, which may not sound like much, but it creates substantial gaps or overlaps in the print.

It is gratifying to see this design on the table. Talavera has been greatly and very recently transformed, but its genesis dates to  (I think) 1996. It was first doodled during a history lesson, no disrespect intended, a lot of us focus better while idly drawing.

This week I will try the second system, evaluate the results and resume production. The only downside so far for these methods is waste of substrate at the centre, easily resolved if the printer is taller and has longer arms.

*A great and immediate resource for repeat pattern design is Kim Kight's book: A Field Guide To Fabric Design.

a ten-minute break

Our CTS Co-op is located in the notable 401 Richmond, a historic building in downtown Toronto. Last week, while at the studio, Rachel and I were ruminating on the architectural beauty of the locale and how fortunate we all are for being able to come to work to such a charming setting.

This week, the building revealed one more of its amazing wonders, as it houses various conceptually charged galleries and one exceptional shop. It must have been Tuesday or Thursday, that on my way out the back door of the building, I was completely floored by the view presented by our neighbours at Open Studio.

 

The most intriguing shape currently greets the visitor, of course there was no hesitation in entering the gallery. Considering all the work we tend to be consumed by everyday, a respite is always welcomed, and this short period of contemplation was provided by artist Andrée-Anne Dupuis-Bourret, with her piece La débâcle 2.

It was incredibly easy to get lost in the minutia of the oeuvre, composed of 5,000 pieces of screenprinted paper, each folded as a "fortune catcher" (more information is available at the OS website under current exhibitions). Suffice to say, I am a great admirer of pieces that are created by multiples, because that is how I work, regardless if it is an industry or fine art project.

The details, the gradations, the impact of the structure itself, became immediately engaging. Many questions emerged, which remain mostly unanswered, making the experience an even more gripping one. The materials are what they are. The structure is what it should be, how can it be anything else? The conception and execution, impeccable and alluring. The perfect pause to a busy, busy day.

the serendipity of pears

One of the most challenging tasks all independent designers face is self assessment. Editing our work is a humbling, yet absolutely necessary exercise which usually unearths a clear path to follow.  Whenever I happen to be in "evaluation" mode, I tend to ask the most outrageous questions to what seems to be a great, big void. What interests me the most in these situations, is the fact  that if I am attentive and vigilant enough, the big, great void will provide some very solid answers, through the most serendipitous events.

This morning the answer to what seems to be a monumental question (it is not) came in an impossible-to-miss deluge of signs (for lack of a better word). I have to thank my dear friend and colleague S for opening the flood gates, which eventually pointed to a very well-defined route.
It seems excessively paltry, considering the significant urgency of many current world events, yet the biggest issue today is if indeed the designs on the tea towels are the "right" ones. In sharing this with S, she gave me the most sensible advise, helping me elaborate a game plan that called for the possible abandonment of one design (it already lives in the box marked as lost, never to be found), and the absolute inclusion of another, the latter one being one with "pears". 

First sign: Confirmation of this decision came in the form of the most intriguing description of a pear in Yan Martel's book "Beatrice and Virgil", which S happened to just start this morning on her train commute. She shared her copy with me so that I could skim through the "pear" pages, which led me to decide to get the book immediately.

Second sign: With a skip in my step that was definitely not there this morning, I resolutely marched to the bookstore while considering the strategy to redesign and print the pears. On arrival, the book I found looked nothing like the one S had shared with me (click on the link set on the title above, to see the original hard cover). When I saw it, I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Now THIS is a sign!

Third sign: Thursdays is the day I usually get some baked goods for the weekend from our neighbourhood bakery. In looking at the display, I decided on a favourite of ours, apple-cranberry crumble pie. I was told, that today these pies had an extra ingredient... Pears!

I absolutely love pears, my favourite: D'Anjou. They have an inherent sophistication in their very particular aesthetic and flavour. I've done so many pear studies throughout the years, these are the latest.

Wrapping things up, here is the [happy] song of the day, America from their debut album "View from the Ground", 1982. It's been playing in my head since I left the bakery. I'm sure that if I watch the video close enough, a pear will make its appearance, somehow.

work inspired

An excellent day at the studio, focused, productive, truly phenomenal. All verbosity was left on the printing table, it will suffice to say that the "absolute" blue was mixed, and the formula is now nonpareil (such a delicious word). It is named in honour of F: azul Denis, since he so brilliantly described it.

Tea towels: Two designs down, one more to go. Colourways in the horizon.

three colour palettes, one big failure

Back to colour studies. Some people knit, other people solve crossword puzzles, I "find" colour palettes. Certainly one of my favourite activities.
In prepping for tomorrow's class, I put together three electronic examples of colour palettes (we will be working with paper images and paint chips as well), which became a thematic trio. One of them, I'm sorry to say, didn't work at all, I was surprised to find out how much I'm actually hating it. It happens, and that is why being prolific makes the editing process less stressful. It will most definitely be booted out, yet it presents an excellent classroom opportunity, after all, we tend to learn more from our failures.

This first photo was taken in our Toronto backyard early this spring. We had an  overabundance of dandelions, which personally, I didn't mind at all. I love dandelions. I find their insurgent nature very compelling, and their orbs beautiful, representing nature's intelligence rather handsomely. F and our neighbours beg to differ, but that is a very different story.

The second shot was taken in San Miguel de Allende, México, in early 2009, and frankly, it is by far my favourite palette of the three. I can hardly wait to put it to good use.

This third and last picture was taken in Venice, in a piazzetta very close to the Fortuny museum, in 2008. I loved the quiet sophistication of the flowers hanging from the window, yet, when dissecting the colours, that "orangy brown" is driving me crazy. Like a bad 80's movie, like a bad 80's sofa (it is my very personal opinion that in matters of colour and style the 80's were an unfortunate decade). This is an excellent example of how the palette, when removed from its original context, just doesn't "flow". There is no use forcing the note. The solution: Discard and move on to other successful colour studies. Or just remove the colours that are not working, ending up with a completely different, yet functional palette.

dancing in september

This morning, while listening to Day 6 on CBC, one of the segments contrasted the  current U.S. election to the previous one 4 years ago, distinctively calling both campaigns (Romney's and Obama's) joyless. In other words, uninspired. I've been pondering on this issue all day today, the magnitude of the term joyless deeply resonating. It is not my intention to judge anybody, and most certainly, I understand that a happy-go-lucky attitude every single minute of our life is definitely not intrinsic to what is considered "normal" human behaviour. However, the vocable joyless reverberates with an immense lack of passion, a disinterest, a disillusion of "the craft". It's tragic.

Passion for our craft, regardless if it is politics, engineering or shoe design is, in my opinion, what propels vocations towards inspired, successful careers. In my experience, the best lessons for this "can do" attitude come from my  undergrad years. Privileged  with a Bauhaus-based program, we were expected to achieve the most with the least, and use both research and all personal experiences (the good, the bad, the necessary) to catapult our artwork, to push it to the next level, founding our design ethos on versatility, originality, functionality and (here's that word again) passion for the craft. In my opinion, this passion comes from experiencing the everyday, from our loved ones,  from our surroundings, from our likes and even our dislikes... from September.

Do you recognise the post's title as a line from the song "September" (released in 1978!) by Earth, Wind & Fire? Perhaps you have no idea of what I'm talking about. Not to worry, what matters is that we are a bit over a week into September, and I'm just catching up to getting the celebration started, because, simply put, September makes me ridiculously happy. Here are four very good reasons as to why that is:

• One: It brings back sanity and the quotidian that inadvertently went missing during the summer (click here to listen to the most eloquent rendition to September by Tanya Davis, gifted poet).
• Two: My dear friend D, weaver extraordinaire, and yours truly celebrate our birthdays during these days.
• Three: F and I will celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary in a couple of weeks.
• Four: Mexico, the motherland, celebrates its independence on the 16th, but the party starts at 11:00 p.m. on the 15th (click here to see the bicentennial celebration in 2010, minute 3:04 is where ceremony begins).

A blissful heart nourishes the body, the mind and the soul. Adversity tends to do that, too—the ying, the yang. Here's an excellent example of what passion for the craft looks like, all kitsch and lsd-esque glory included. We are dancing in September.

work in progress: sample printing

"Go to your studio and make stuff".

                                        --Fred Babb

The quandary seems to be, when we operate within the stint of the everyday--in Spanish, "la vida cotidiana"--how to make the most out of the time we devote to studio work. As of late, the personal strategy has been to spend a considerable amount of time, while not at the studio, pondering on the most suitable strategy to resolve any project issues while at the studio. Also, dedicating time to the details, insignificant as they may be, has been most helpful as well.
In a print studio, these details may very well take the form of printed samples, which will most definitely throw light on the  design itself (is the scale the correct one, is it balanced, does it translate well on fabric), the flawlessness of the stencil (on the screen), substrate behaviour, and most certainly, colour fastness through washing and drying, the ultimate tests.

Getting into the minutiae:

• Pre-wash fabric, using specialized detergents like synthrapol or TNA, or regular household detergents (preferably unscented).
• Correct measuring, so the print will fit without issues in the selected areas, regardless if it is going to be printed in "repeat" or not. 
• On-grain pinning, meaning the lengthwise grain (warp threads, selvage) is perpendicular to the cross grain (weft threads). This step will ensure the images will not be distorted when the cloth is off the table. The experiential preference is to use the smallest stainless steel t-pins, and after pinning, cover them with packing tape, to protect the screen.
• Remove unwanted debris on the cloth, with the aid of a lint remover.
• Most times I will mark the packing tape with a permanent marker to create registration marks, which will allow for the screen to be positioned accurately before every print--this is a most important step if the intention is to print in repeat.
• After printing, the pins are removed, but the material is left to fully dry on the table. 
• Heat-set following manufacturer's instructions, I usually do so by throwing the fabric in the dryer on high for 90 minutes. This allows to set a vast quantity of fabric at a time, while being able to focus on other tasks.

The printed samples are ready to be stitched and put to harsh testing in the kitchen. Once all issues are resolved, the printing of the products goes rather fast and uneventfully, as most problems have been cleared up.

work in progress: screens

A background in graphic design is what turns textile print design into my true passion, a gusto steered by creativity, design process, knowledge of materials, techniques and, most certainly, a point of view (or if you prefer, the why). I have always been mystified by how a stencil on a screen translates so flawlessly and artistically onto paper or fabric (or any substrate, for that matter) and by the perfect sound of the squeegee on the mesh as the pigment is "pulled". Screen printing demands knowledge of the methodologies and required equipment. It all depends on what one wants to do with the medium and what one wants to accomplish through it.
The task at hand is silk screening images onto fabric with the use of heat setting pigments. The first step then, is to determine what technique will be used to transfer the images onto fabric (open screen, paper stencils, photo stencils, etc.). This endeavour requires a photo emulsion stencil on a 110 mesh, which is  the  mesh count ideal for printing on cloth when the image does not have many small details (click here to learn more about mesh counts--you will find it as 109).
The next step is to acquire the necessary paraphernalia. The official supplier for all things "images on textiles" here in Toronto (from screens to squeegees, to pigments or dyes, some fabrics, and everything in between) is G&S Dye, on Dundas and University. It has everything, including the nicest people behind the counter.
The following steps add up to the many methodologies that already exist regarding photo emulsion and its preparation, application and exposure. It is a personal record of how I recently worked with Saati Chem emulsion from scratch, which was really not different of how I went about when using Ulano, and Speedball in the past.

1. Sensitized the emulsion following the manufacturer's instructions and mixed it well.
2. Allowed the emulsion to set (gave it an hour).
3. Coated the screen--there are as many different coating techniques as there are printers. In the end, it is a matter of finding what works for you. My MO includes two coats on the outside, after the first coat the screen is turned 90 degrees to apply the second one.
4. Dried the screen infront of fans for about an hour and gave it a last blast of hot air with a hair dryer to make sure all humidity was gone (careful with this step, too much heat may "set" the emulsion on the mesh, and removing it, later on, can turn into a laborious task).
5. Exposed it for 3 minutes and 45 seconds--my original was on vellum. Note that each light source hast its own, very specific instructions.
6. Washed it to remove the unexposed emulsion, until the design on the screen was fully visible, with nice, sharp edges.
7. Let it dry and then, with the aid of some emulsion (in the dark room I put a tiny bit of emulsion in a very small container, maybe a quarter tea spoon), covered the pinholes left on the screen. After they dried, the screen was re-exposed at 3 minutes, to harden the recently applied emulsion.
8. Taped the screen on both the ouside and inside.

From left to right: 1-Vellum has a translucent quality that easily differentiates it from regular paper, Curry's (Dundas and University) carries a great selection of vellum and mylar at very reasonable prices. Above Ground (McCaul) does as well. 2-A chop stick is a favourite tool of mine, it is mostly used to apply ink on mylar, or in this case, to carefully touch-up the screens with a bit of photo emulsion. 3-Pinholes are covered, and the screen is ready for the next step.

Once the screen is completely dry and patched-up, it is all set for "masking". From left to right: 1-Blue tape is used to mask the outside edges where the screen mesh meets the wood. This is not regular blue masking tape, this one is of higher quality, and will last for the whole print production. If it is not left for a very long time, that is, more than a month, it will come out rather easily without leaving any glue behind. 2-The inside edges and corners are covered with regular masking tape. It is usually removed after each print run, as it is not convenient to leave it on for a while as it may damage the screen with adhesive and pigment residue.

The ultimate screen test is through printing, which will be documented in another post. Just in case, you are very new to screen printing, click here for comprehensive introduction to the medium, courtesy of Dharma Trading Co. An excellent resource as well.

work in progress: colour

A spectacular opportunity just came up (the kind where you can see the heavens open and hear the celestial hosts singing just for you), and I am embracing it with everything. It will be particularly  interesting to use this conduit to document the different stages of the venture.

My work is very process oriented, and though this is a project I have been working on and off for a good while, I decided to start from square one, on a clean, fresh sheet of sketchbook paper.

So far this week, the agenda has been about colour and colourways that can easily relate to a broader audience (the designs will be part of later posts). It kicked off with the selection of a number of samples (mostly paint chips and embroidery thread) to get a general idea of what was "speaking" to me (no colour whisperer jokes, please).

From left to right: 1-The "weeding" process begins. 2-Sketchbook page. On top, the final  colour selections represent the general targets. The middle section has the pigment compounds. When one is (finally) on target, the date is stamped next to it, to better identify the chosen one. The bottom section has the printed swatches (on cotton) from these formulas.

The next choice came from my immediate surroundings, and it represents the house from our wonderful neighbours (B&R) across the street. I've always admired how the colouring subtly changes depending on the time of day and the time of year. It requires the eye to average it into the perfect neutral, making it extremely relevant to the products I want to print. This fabulous, very elusive hue, took three days to translate well on to fabric, and is now referred to as B's House.

From left to right: 1-A "swatch" from B's house. 2-Pigments are mixed in a translucent base (vehicle) so that it is ready to be tested on fabric (with the aid of a small silk screen and squeegee). 3-Swatches of various substrates (cottons and linens) from different concoctions, the number of passes were recorded as well.

By yesterday afternoon, there was an overabundance of swatches on the studio's printing table, which is tremendously helpful during the editing process.

cts co-op workshop: dawn dupree

Every year, the remarkable program and scheduling committee at the Contermporary Textile Studio Co-Op in Toronto--where I have the privilege of being a member--organises a week-long workshop with a high profile textile artist. This summer, we had the fortune of receiving the very talented Dawn Dupree.
Dawn is also the author of the book Heat Transfer Techniques, which has a plethora of information  and clear instructions on alternative uses for the heat press.

It turned out to be an extremely productive week where we learned new methodologies and  revised familiar ones, with a twist, of course. By mid week Dawn regaled us with a lecture at the Textile Museum of Canada, where we learned more about influences and methodologies within her bountiful, versatile and extraordinary body of work.

We started with mark-making exercises, using tools of our own devise. These exercises are  always fun and liberating, where prolificness is the norm, enabling a very successful editing process later on. Our most engaging images were later transferred to silk screens for printing.

From left to right: 1&2-Marks made with tools I made out of hemp twine held tightly using clothespins and tape. 3-Marks made with chopsticks, detailing a section with an artist pen. All instances used Speedball's India ink.

We used several foil sheets during the sessions, and the ones that worked the best were those brought by Dawn from overseas. The colours were rather unusual and rendered excellent results. The sample at the centre of the image is one that did not work very well (I'm not sure about the supplier), however, the results were intriguing enough.

Marks made with a can top. The adhesive was screenprinted on fabric, and the foil ironed on top. The negative image left on the foil sheets may be further used--the possibilities are endless.

We used very diverse resists, from maylar stencils, to textured open fabrics, to flour, etc.

From left to right: 1-Materials used for resist, archived within the pages of a sketchbook. 2-Open-screen resist technique using dyes on Habotai.

Many, many more techniques and issues were explored during this very inspiring, recharging, and unforgettable week. It always takes a little while to process it all.

colour inspired: kensington market red

Kensington Market in Toronto is, in fact, a global experience. It is also vivacious, capricious and comfortably diffident. An absolute must.
Not too long ago, E and I went on a field trip of sorts to KM with a theme in tag: Red. That is, what does red look like, feel like, taste like, sound like? So armed with our senses and digital cameras, we resolutely set ourselves on this particular quest.
We saw what it looked like while documenting it in digital images. We sure felt it when we were under the unforgiving sun reflecting on a impossibly hot pavement. We tasted it at El Trompo (our favourite place for tacos). And we got stuck on the matter of sound.
KM has a very distinct cacophony, yet we concluded that its resonance was not that of red. So, after pondering a bit on this particular matter (E is at this point is done with the  issue), it is my personal opinion that you can actually hear Kensington Market red in Jenn Grant's Oh My Heart. Perfect, wouldn't you say?
Here are a few images, with their corresponding palettes, of course.

This is my favourite image, mostly for what is reflected.

It was overcast for a while, which was a respite in such a scorching day. It created an excellent contrasting sky to the intense colours in the apartment.

I'm totally in love with those blues.

city inspired: toronto

If art and design are what define you (and all of us are conformed by multiple disciplines, whether we consider ourselves creative entities or not), just being out and about provides fortitude to your muse. There is always something extremely rewarding about wandering around a city. This free roaming becomes an activity of sustenance, the keeper of the inspired spark. Any city (any place, really) will provide this incomparable experience--NYC, Mexico City, Tokyo, Fez, Paris, you name it--and Toronto is no exception, it is rather an exceptional city, and for almost three years now, we have had the privilege of calling it home.

Just this Monday, ambling inside the ROM and the Bata became nourishing, unhurried events. A purposeful walk on Queen Street West, looking for E's perfect low-tops, became simply insightful--mostly because of the ruckus created by the TTC's Queen & Spadina intersection closure. Backgrounds, foregrounds, contrasts in colour and scale, sounds and smells... it was all there, we only needed to open up our senses, and immerse ourselves in it all.

At the ROM, from left to right: 1-Outside, a subdued view of the CN Tower. 2-Turkish tile panel, mid 16th century. 3-Detail of a cat's mummy, Roman period, c. AD 100--I've always admired the beautiful patterns created by the wrappings.

At the Roger Vivier exhibit, Bata Museum. From left to right: 1-Patterned shoes, top one from 1987, bottom one from 1992. 2&3-Turquoise shoes, for Christian Dior, extraordinary detail in the embellishment, silly me forgot to copy the placard.

At the Roger Vivier exhibit, Bata Museum: Definitely, my favourite display, shoes and handbag dating from 1965 (great palette, eh?). All so coquettish, yet brilliantly demure. Evidently, a younger demographic is in mind, however, the sophisticated intention in such a historically charged shoe is undeniably genial--a perfect balance.

music inspired

While listening to a Michael Jackson song on the radio during our drive back from Buffalo, F and I were telling E about MTV and its impact in our teenage lives during the 80's. Music videos became a new medium, a new vessel, a new voice to our generation.

What instantly comes to mind is Aha's Take On Me, from their 1985 debut album "Hunting High And Low". To this day, I still find it very evocative. This music video was ground-breaking in those days it was so rich in its visual content, that it immediately engaged its audience. It most definitely influenced my decision, two years later, to become a graphic designer.

tv inspired: water tanks

As a rule of thumb, reality television is a no-no in our humble abode, however, a few shows have hurdled the ban, as we find them very entertaining. A family favourite is The Amazing Race.
A personal preferred of mine is the Antiques Road Show, which has been faithfully followed since the late 90's, and most recently, AMC released its latest brilliant venture, The Pitch (the other brilliant show is of course Mad Men). Not only does it provide a lot of insight regarding the behind-the-scenes in the world of advertising, but a lot of the visuals are spectacular.
The very last episode, 8, landed a beautiful shot of water tanks on the rooftops of NYC. I was immediately hooked in their simple beauty. The sketchbook awaits.

TV shot from the AMC's "The Pitch".

Water tanks by Sandro Tedde, from the National Geographic Traveler Photo Contest 2011.

View of an old water tank in Manhattan. Image property of photo.zoommer.ru