XII/Twelve

XII/Twelve by Heather Page, 11 5/8 inches x 11 inches, monotype on paper

Title: XII/Twelve
Media: Monotype on paper
Size: 11 5/8” x 11″
Edition: 1/1
 
detail process | story | related works

detail views

XII/Twelve by Heather Page, detail image 1, 11 5/8 inches x 11 inches, monotype on paper
XII/Twelve by Heather Page, detail image 2, 11 5/8 inches x 11 inches, monotype on paper
XII/Twelve by Heather Page, detail image 3, 11 5/8 inches x 11 inches, monotype on paper

process

XI/Twelve is an original monotype on paper.

 
A monotype is a unique print that starts out as a drawing or painting on a surface (usually something non-porous like a blank printing plate or a piece of mylar) that is transferred to another surface with pressure.

XI/Twelve by Heather Page, 11 5/8 inches x 11 1/8 inches, monotype on paper
Most of XII/Twelve comes from a drawing I made with water-soluble crayons on a Plexiglas plate. Sending the plate through a press with a moistened piece of paper activates the crayons and transfers the drawing to the paper.
 
If I draw heavily, I can usually get three prints from one drawing. Anything printed after the first print is called a ghost print, because the image lightens with each printing. XI/Twelve, to the left, is a ghost print of XII/Twelve.
 
Over the ghost image, I printed thin washes (ink thinned with spirits and/or oils) of oil-based ink and then added a bit of drawing to finish the print.

For more information on monotypes and how they are made, please visit my about prints page.

story

 
I associate each of the Twelve prints with a month. XII/Twelve represents a Midwestern ice pond in December, its surface full of bubbles and dotted by fallen leaves.
 
The text in the background of the print comes from Thoreau’s Journals from July 21, 1851 8am
 
“Now I yearn for one of those old, meandering, dry, uninhabited roads, which lead away from towns, which lead us away from temptation, which conduct to the outside of earth, over its uppermost crust; where you may forget in what country you are travelling; where no farmer can complain that you are treading down his grass, no gentleman who has recently constructed a seat in the country that you are trespassing; on which you can go off at halfcock and wave adieu to the village; along which you may travel like a pilgrim, going nowither; where travellors are not too often to be met; where my spirit is free; where the walls and fences are not cared for; where your head is more in heaven than your feet are on earth; which have long reaches where you can see the approaching traveller half a mile off and be prepared for him… where you can pace when your breast is full, and cherish your moodiness…”