I am returned from a trip that was first intended to happen three years ago; to Tasmania with my other half (OH). A trip that was cancelled twice due to you know what..... and that finally came to fruition in 2023. 

It has been a time for reflection. On accepting the difference between a family holiday and a personal photographic adventure. We were travelling around, staying two or three nights in differing locations, and now that I am home  I look through my photographs and know that they are not destined to be anything more than a record of our trip. A great holiday, but not a creative holiday.

Time was the limiting factor. Two days anywhere is not long enough for my style of working. Along the way I knew that had I spent several days or longer in one place, I could have had something to say about specific places. 

I wanted to have something to say about the many varieties of eucalyptus trees on the island.  So many different shapes and colours. Their graceful stems and branches changing colour with the time of day.

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​I love the way that they shed their bark, revealing smooth patterns and colours underneath.

But the weather was either very grey or very sunny, and I did not have time to seek out a grove of trees and spend an hour or two alone with them. My good intentions went unrealised.

I would have loved, too, to spend more time in the rain forest. So lush and green, with incredible ferns, mosses and running water. 

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​But we were on the move, getting a taste of all that Tasmania has to offer. OH needed to be wined and dined as much as I needed to walk and take photos.......

Whilst I was away I was trying to keep up with the 100 day project that I had started just before we left.

The 100 day project is a free challenge for artists, to create or do something every day for 100 days. You can follow people's efforts on Instagram using the hashtag #The100DayProject . I had decided to try collage as a way to find new ideas for my book making ventures. Trying to do this whilst travelling proved a challenge. It became a rather child like record of our days; collecting any bits of paper/ephemera that I could find to create a daily page in my notebook. 

My best attempt was from Sydney, on our first day, when I collected bits of fallen materials from fancy dress costumes from the Gay Pride celebrations. I like the morning sunshine drifting across the photographed page, reminding me of the beautiful early autumn light, so welcome after our dark and gloomy winter.

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On another day I collected fallen myrtle leaves from a walk at Cradle Mountain, and glued them into my notebook.

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I realise that even a simple challenge requires time and a willingness to experiment. Hopefully now that I am back home I will be able to develop this project more meaningfully. 

There were many small things that I enjoyed along the way.

Spider's webs and seaweed.
Orange lichens and brilliant yellow bottle brush flowers
Sea shells, bobbing grasses,
Wombats and wallabies.

​A feast for the eyes.​

And then, at the end of our trip we visited a beach that for me, topped everything we had seen so far. A reminder of how the world could be.

​A beach on which I could see not a single piece of man made material. Not a piece of plastic to be seen. White sand and black rocks. Stretching for miles.

Called 'Friendly Beaches reserve', it was almost deserted. The weather was grey and misty. We walked, and explored the rock pools.

I knew that this was the place where I would have spent time if I was working on a photographic project. And I also know, that it is not likely to happen in the future, being so far away from home. 

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Having something to say is when I work best. Using my camera to express my feelings.

I would have loved to spend more time here to express how wonderful it was to find an unspoilt coastal environment.

And to share the details of the natural world as I see them.

​Small, and beautiful.

I have had a week of highs and lows.

One following on from the other, which got me thinking about the roller coaster ride that is trying to live a creative life.

Thursday was an 'up' day.......

• firstly, a really engaging and enthusiastic group of people attending my book making workshop, 'Say it with Books', followed by
•  the news that I will have a print in the London Original Print Fair, thanks to a recent   opportunity to create solar plate etchings collaboratively with the painter Nick Archer.
• an evening walk on the beach at Camber sands, where I was the only person I could see for miles around.
  

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I have previously shied away from printing, as I find it messy, smelly and physically hard work; but the chance to work with a professional, very talented artist was not to be missed. Much time is spent rubbing and cleaning, and paint gets everywhere.

I generally prefer cleaner activities. Book making is perfect.

Nick and I worked on making a solar plate etching, using layers of ink on a photopolymer etching plate.

​If you are wondering what on earth a solar plate etching is, then read here. It works well for me as a form of printmaking, as I can use my photographs as the subject of the print.  The print above started as a photograph of branches reflected in a stream.

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All of these good things lightened my spirits, and as Friday dawned I convinced myself that I should have a go at printing on my own. Spurred on by the idea that I could create something to submit for the Society of Women Artists annual exhibition ( they don't take photographs), I braved the print room at Rye Creative Centre alone.

What could possibly go wrong? I had my notes from my session with Nick, and felt confident that I could create something worthwhile.

Apron on.
Old trousers on.
Rubber gloves ready.

First; soak paper in water bath.

Simple.

I filled the tray with water and threw in three enormous sheets of Somerset Satin paper at £3.60 per sheet.

They immediately took on a spotted brown appearance. The tray was dirty, and the dirt floated up and laid itself carefully all over my pristine sheets of beautiful deckled edge 300g paper.

I needed to empty the tray , clean it out and start over.
The tray was too heavy to carry, so I used a jug and a bowl to empty out some of the water, turned my back to empty the bowl, and heard the tray tip off the end of the table onto the carpet.
Water everywhere, A very large puddle on the concrete carpeted floor. No mops to be found.

Not a good start.

I sorted this out, with the help of friends, towels and a bucket, and began again.

One sheet at a time now, carefully, I soaked the paper for printing.

Next to choose some ink. It comes in guns....

The traditional colour for etchings is a dark blue or black.

I chose Vermillion.

I thinned the paint with what I thought was extender, but later discovered was vegetable oil for cleaning.

My prints will probably go mouldy.

I inked up the plate and rubbed off the excess paint with scrim and tissue paper.
I got through a lot of cloths.

And tissue paper.

And gloves.

Replacing inky gloves is almost impossible.

Trying to keep the paper clean likewise.

I made a print. It wasn't bad, but it was far from straight on the paper.

It was also very orange..... vibrant is the word that comes to mind..... or possibly 'garish' depending on your view.

 

I was getting confident, and decided to make sure the next print was square on the paper.

Sums and a template ensued. I was precise.

This time I chose a deep blue; a bit more conventional.

More scrubbing and rubbing.

Cleaning and wiping.

I was getting through a lot of tissue paper. tearing off little pieces for the final polishing of the plate before printing.

I set the print up on my hand crafted template and started to roll the press,

which is when disaster struck.

I had a crease in one of the blankets, and as I rolled it ruched up and got more and more stuck under the roller. I was worried now.

I called for help. Help came. Help loosened the roller and out came two very creased blankets.

And a creased print.

No more etching for me today.

I cleaned up as best I could , and made a mono print by hand of my cleaning rag. A reminder of how the best laid plans can go to waste.

Three and a half hours of hard labour.

Three wasted sheets of very expensive paper.
A flooded floor.
Two imperfect etchings containing oils that may degenerate with time and will prevent proper drying of the ink.
Two damaged press blankets ( very expensive to replace).

Time to call it a day, go home and wash the blankets in an attempt to redeem myself.

I hand washed the blankets and laid them out on my garden table to dry.

They appear to be salvageable.

Not my greatest hour.

The happiness of the previous day's workshop almost forgotten.

But not quite.

I learned so much from my mistakes, and am detemined to have another go.

I even have an idea for a book made with tiny etchings.

One thing leads to another, always. I just don't always know what is coming next.