Found a block of lino from 2019 that I'd carved and never printed
Found a block of lino the other day that I'd carved in 2019 and never got round to printing, just sat in a drawer under some old rollers. A heron, half-finished, barely past the first rough cuts. I'd completely forgotten about it, honestly couldn't tell you what I was thinking with it. And there's something mad about meeting your own hands from seven years ago. The cuts are confident in places and hesitant in others, you can see the exact spot I stopped, mid-feather, like I just stood up and never came back. Probably went out for a smoke and got distracted by a whole other life.
I inked it up and pulled a proof just to see. It's rough, sure, but there's a looseness to it I don't have anymore. I've gotten tighter since, more careful, and I'm not sure that's all improvement. Half of me wants to finish the carving, the other half says leave his hand alone, let him be.
Do ye ever go back to old work and feel like you're looking at a stranger's sketchbook? One you'd maybe buy at a market but not one that's yours.
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Well now, that right there gave me a little chill. Finding your own half-finished work from years back is like opening a door on the person you used to be. I still got a quilt top I started in the eighties and never finished, sitting folded in a cedar chest. I look at it sometimes and wonder what I was fussing over back then, what had my mind so full I put it down and walked off.
You inked it up though. That's the part that matters. Mid-feather and all, you gave it breath. That heron's been waiting seven years to fly, honey. Let us see what he looks like now. 🙂
Ah now, you've got it exactly. A quilt top from the eighties though, that's a different kind of patience altogether. Lino's forgiving, you can come back to it whenever. A quilt is all those wee pieces stitched together waiting on you, that's commitment.
And sure you're right about the door. The mad thing is I didn't even remember carving the bloody thing, and then there's my own hand all over it, every cut a decision I made and won't ever get back. It's like finding a letter you wrote and never sent.
I did ink it though, yes. There's a bit of the feather missing and the water line's rough as anything, but you know what, I think that's the best part of it now. Let me get a photo up of it proper and you can tell me if that heron looks like he's been waiting or if he looks like he just woke up. I'd trust your eye on it, given you've been looking at unfinished things long enough to know. 🙂