Moving Toward Simplicity: The Collagraph SEARCH THE SITE
Eunice Kim
When I set out to explore a new approach to work back in early 2004, I had one primary criterion: simplicity. I sought simplicity in material, simplicity in process, and simplicity in imagery. There was little question in my mind which single medium would see me through this task--the collagraph.
Eunice Kim, Porous #42, collagraph with chine colle, 2007
It's always been collagraphs for me, ever since I was introduced to it back in school. A collagraph was in fact, the very first print I ever pulled off the press. I was immediately taken by its direct, tactile nature and the transformation of humble, everyday material into lush printed marks. Collagraph derives its name from the Greek word colla (glue) and graphos (to write). It is a relatively new medium, having gained popularity with the development of synthetic materials and the movement toward abstraction during the twentieth century. As its name suggests, artists may employ any number of materials, textures, and media in the manner of a collage to construct their plates. For me personally, the physicality of the collagraph, as well as its inherently experimental nature are what draws me to it as a medium.
I take a restrained approach to the collagraph by choosing to work only with small, repetitive dot marks created with modeling paste. This way of working satisfies certain ritualistic tendencies which are, in turn, informed by early experiences and influences. There is also a strong desire on my part, to keep the materials and processes close to me and know them intimately. And as you will see shortly, I keep them quite literally, at my fingertips. So here, then, are my materials and processes in brief:
Eunice Kim, Porous #8, collagraph with chine colle, 2006
Construction of collagraph plates begins with clear acrylic sheets, which I prefer over chipboard, hardboard, or metal base plates, for their absence of pre-existing surface texture. They also take beautifully to beveled plate edges which I have always loved on intaglio prints. Artwork in reverse is placed under the plate and I am set to begin putting down my marks (here you see another advantage to working with transparent substrate).
I carefully administer the modeling paste marks onto my plate--a single dot at a time, using squeezy bottles. The basic structure of the imagery is predetermined, while exact placement of individual dots is decided as I am working on the plate. Once the modeling paste has thoroughly cured, I then "work the plates," a process whereby each dot mark is shaped to a height and contour optimal for the printing process. This step is most akin to sanding and polishing, except that there is no sandpaper involved. I use small pieces of plain 8½ x 11 paper as even the finest sandpaper would obliterate the fragile dot marks and introduce unwanted plate marks. The goal here is to give each dot a clean planar top profile at the appropriate height. I rely heavily on my sense of touch during this critical stage since the dimensional differences of tiny dots are almost impossible to discern by sight alone. The step is labor intensive, yet a crucial factor for producing crisp printed marks. And finally, a small amount of acrylic coating is applied to both protect its surface and to introduce an aquatint-like plate tone.
Putting down modeling paste marks to construct the plate.
The plate is then printed in the intaglio manner with a few notable exceptions. Every printmaker will agree that ink characteristics vary a great deal depending on your particular process. In my case, variables include the relative "age" of the matrix or integrity of the marks remaining on the plate, the physical dimensions of the matrix, and whether chine colle will be a component of my imagery - to name just a few. In general, the ink consistency is considerably looser and of a lower viscosity than in other intaglio methods. Ink application is accomplished with a soft dabber that I roll out of synthetic felt, as I find commercially available dabbers too abrasive for the delicate plate surface. For wiping the plate, I use the smoothest newsprint I can find on the market (no tarlatan ever goes near my plates!) and cut it to fit the proportion of my hand. This may sound like a whole lot of trouble, but there really is nothing like working with tools custom-sized for the user. Besides, I find I rather enjoy these more mundane tasks as they provide a welcome reprieve from the "active" phases of my work.
Collagraph plate inked, wiped and ready to print.
There is one additional criterion I established for myself that I have yet to mention: safety conscious printmaking. Early in my career, I took little heed of many of the safety precautions; like most twenty-somethings, I thought myself invincible. True, I had already committed myself to the collagraph which is intrinsically of low toxicity. Still, I was using solvents with abandon and wore protective gloves only intermittently. By my late twenties, the exposure had taken its toll and I found myself riddled with a list of sensitivities and allergic reactions. It was at this point, spurred on by other life changes, that I made the decision to take a few years hiatus from printmaking. I vowed to myself then, that when I returned to the printing press, I would find a way to do it differently.
The use of decidedly simple, low-tech materials and tools in my current methods translate effortlessly into a non-toxic practice. As noted above, materials involved in the construction of my collagraph plates are few and marks are manually manipulated, rather than with the aid of a mordant. For the printing phase, while I use oil-based inks, clean-up is strictly confined to the use of vegetable oil and occasionally, soap and water to address any residual oil build-up on the plate surface. Finally, I use a bit of rubbing alcohol to degrease the work area. And, indeed, I now don latex gloves routinely and, in fact, they have become an indispensable "tool" in the wiping process as they provide the grip and traction necessary to control and maintain contact between the smooth newsprint and the plate surface.
Eunice Kim, Porous #20 (detail), collagraph with chine colle, 2005 (left)
Eunice Kim, Porous #22, collagraph with chine colle, 2005 (right)
One final note. Collagraph plates tend to have a limited life span in comparison to their more heartier intaglio cousins. In my particular process, for instance, dot marks flatten out progressively with subsequent inking and passes through the press. Although I would like to see longevity for my plates, I do very much take pleasure in following each plate through its lifecycle with the earliest impressions taken from it being bold and saturated, and later impressions nuanced and subdued.
There is tremendous gratification in witnessing the evolution of a process first-hand--understanding its peculiarities and unique possibilities. I believe the collagraph to be a medium whose potential has yet to be fully realized; whose visual vocabulary is ripe to be expanded many fold. It is, too, a medium that is by nature adaptable, and as such, a prime vehicle for research and study into a singular approach to work. As for myself and the collagraph, we continue to make strides towards simplicity: identifying and preserving what is essential and letting go of what is not.
Eunice Kim is a Seattle-based printmaker.
She works exclusively with collagraphs.
For more information about the artist and her work, visit:
Eunice Kim, Five Elements (Fire), collagraph with chine colle, 2008 (left)
Eunice Kim, Five Elements (Earth), collagraph with chine colle, 2008 (right)
