I live in Roseville, California. It’s the kind of place where nothing ever happens, and I like it like that. I haven’t always lived here, and I still feel like a newcomer, but no longer like a stranger, and I like that, too.
It’s taken me years to feel comfortable calling myself an artist, because I haven’t had enough formal training, but meanings slide, and “crafter” means something else entirely and to use that word was unkindly confusing. Also, when a craft loses utility and relevance, it also slides into the category of art, so, as printmaking has been ineluctably replaced by photography and computers, I and what I do are also pushed over from useful craft to Art. There’s a whole philosophy and discussion to be had in there, so feel free to drop me a line in pursuit at emilyatbalestrinidotnet; I’d love to hear from you.
The printmaking that I do is easiest to describe in terms of rubber stamps: I make really big stamps. I love it. I passed that point where I made simple mistakes like forgetting that my entire image would be reversed years back (although I still sometimes slip) and have moved into the realm where sometimes, I complete a piece and realize that the entire composition was a mistake. It’s one of the simple joys of making art.
I have noticed recently that I have been working in series: that might be another dividing characteristic between Art and Craft. Series are rewarding because I get to work my way through an idea at my own pace over time and see if the idea or appreciation changes. It turns out, currently, that I’m not entirely over my appreciation for large trucks, for instance.
Because printing changed the world and the possibilities of disseminating information, I not only enjoy printmaking but also book arts; and within my little printmaking world, I often revert to a pre-Caxton type of image and put my words into the image itself. I do it because I get a kick out of it.