Got the press back after three weeks of repairs and pulled the first proof off it tonight

Three weeks without the press. Sent the bearings off to a fella in Clare who said he'd have them done in a week, took three, sure what's the rush in Clare. I was half-convinced I'd get it back and something else would be wrong with it, or I'd forgotten how to print altogether.

Stripped it down, cleaned everything I could reach while I was waiting, found a biscuit wrapper the youngest had posted through the roller gap back in February. Reassembled it this afternoon with a spanner I'd left out in the rain and had to dry off on the Aga.

Pulled the first proof an hour ago. An old block, a hare I've carved so many times I could do it in my sleep. And it just... worked. Clean. Even pressure. The ink laid down like it was glad to be there.

I stood there staring at it for longer than I'd admit. The missus came in and said "is that it" and I said yeah that's it and she said "grand" and went back to putting the kids to bed. Which is exactly the right amount of fuss.

If you've got a tool or a machine or a process that's been sitting broken and you're dreading getting back to it, just get the first one done. The second one's easy after that.

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Kasia Nowak·2w

This is lovely. There's something about getting a press back together and pulling that first print that feels almost like you're meeting an old friend again. I don't print myself, pastels don't really work that way, but I know the feeling of a tool being gone for weeks and that dread that you've somehow lost the touch with it. You haven't, clearly. The hare is beautiful, that crispness on the edges, really clean.

The biscuit wrapper made me laugh. The youngest will probably find that story mortifying in ten years, but it'll still be funny.

Mira Vey·2w

the biscuit wrapper detail is what got me too. something about finding evidence of normal life jammed in the works of a thing you've been wrestling with for weeks. glad the hare came out clean.

Niall DohertyOP·2w

Ah that's it exactly. The wrapper was the thing that got me more than anything else, there's your daughter's snack from months ago, preserved like a fossil, and you're standing there with a damp spanner wondering how it even got in there. She's four. She'd post anything through any gap she finds. I've found a felt tip pen and a matchbox car in there before now.

The hare came out sound though, which is the main thing. Clean enough that I forgave her.

Niall DohertyOP·2w

Ah you're dead right about the tool being gone and the dread creeping in. I'd swear it's worse when you've nothing else to be doing but staring at it, I spent a good two weeks walking past the press shaped gap in the room and convincing myself I'd dreamt the whole craft. Pastels now, that's a different yoke altogether, but I'd say the worry travels. You ever get that thing where you leave a tool alone too long and you're half afraid it's forgotten you?

The biscuit wrapper's going in the studio memory box, I think. Herself says I'm sentimental about the wrong things. She's not wrong.

Kasia Nowak·2w

This really got me. The biscuit wrapper from February, the spanner dried on the Aga, it's those details that make it feel like a real thing coming back to life, not just a tool. I think we all have that fear when we've been away from something too long, that the thing itself will have forgotten us, or we'll have lost whatever it was we could do. So I'm glad it was the opposite for you tonight. A hare feels like a good first print back too, something quick and alive.

Dimitra Vasilakis·2w

The hare's a good choice for it, yeah. Something that needs to move. I think about this a lot with mosaic, you can put the work down for weeks if you're waiting on glass or a commission falls through, and there's that same dread coming back to it. Will the eye still find the cuts, will the hand remember the pressure. It always does, but the fear is real every time. Glad the press is singing again and the hare came out clean.

Niall DohertyOP·2w

Ah sure you know it. There's something particular about mosaic though, you're not just coming back to a process, you've glass cut and laid and grouted and you're hoping the whole thing still holds together in your head the way it did. At least with a block, you can pull a proof in ten minutes and know where you stand. You've to wait for grout to set and all sorts before you get the full picture.

And you're dead right about the fear being real. I don't think it ever goes away, no matter how many times it turns out grand. There's always that half-second before you peel the paper off where you think, what if it's shite. What if I've lost it entirely and nobody told me.

Niall DohertyOP·2w

Sure you've it exactly. There's a fear in walking away from something you've been at a long time, even for a few weeks, that the knack'll be gone when you come back to it, like a language you stop speaking. I remember coming back to the bench after six months, years ago, different circumstances altogether, and the first cut I made was a right mess. Had to sit with it and let the hand remember.

But the hare, I don't know. Some blocks you carve and they're just dead wood with ink on them. Others have a bit of life in them before you even roll the ink up. This one's the latter, I think. Quick and alive is right, that's all you're ever hoping for really, isn't it. A thing that looks like it might move.