Painful inspiration

My dear friend Becky and I went to a print fair far, far away on the other side of Cleveland in a mildly depressing office park with a smattering of industrial businesses and empty fields. Despite the strange trek through typical Americana (strip malls and Wendy's), the destination was absolutely worth it. There were prints of all kinds (woodblocks, lithographs, etchings, lino cuts, screenprints) from around the world made within the last hundred years or so, and they were awe-inspiring. Design, color, technique, theme: I kept gasping for air at the same time that I wanted to rush home to draw and create. Most of the prints we saw (that ranged in price from $125 to $5,000, all far beyond my budget) were what I call "hurt-me" pictures: art so beautiful that it gives your stomach that knotted, nostalgic feeling difficult to explain and difficult to contain. Kind of like what you feel on a crisp fall day with winter imminent but the breathtaking colors of the leaves just getting you right there. Becky and I oohed and aahed, making desperate plans to begin our adventures with the linoleum blocks that we bought last winter; we wanted to start making art right then and there.

This was one of the prints that was etched (pun totally intended) in my mind. It's by Helen Hyde and was made in 1912. It's called Mt. Orizaba. Sigh. Let's go make art!