President Maret and the First Lady spent an afternoon with me on Lake Pepin  during their recent tour of the midwest. Mr Maret caught the only fish of the day, a 15-inch White Bass (Morone chrysops). A couple of days later, I returned to the same spot and found a mother load of morel mushrooms.

Meanwhile, reductions of both the key block and the water block of the Redhorse have been cut. I decided to print the reduced key block first, before the reduced water block, because I felt I could capture detail better on top of one layer of ink, rather than two.

Detail of the reduced key block.

I had already mixed the second water color, and had added opaque white in order to obscure a little problem I had while laying down the first water color. So, the reduction cut of the key block was printed in black. It went well, but when I tried printing the reduced water block over it, the opaque white tended to obscure the very detail I had hoped hoped to feature in the key block. I decided to cut away more of the second water block in order to show more of the detail of the fish. I started by cutting out the iris of the eye, as it is the primary focus of the image, and needs to be deep, like a well. Having cut the iris, it's darkness seemed too isolated.

Detail of the reduced water block.

I thought about filling it back in with epoxy, and remixing the ink without any opaque white, but it then occurred to me that the opacity might mimic the milky reflection of light off the top of the fish, something I had been aware of, but hadn't thought to attempt: my problem had become an unexpected opportunity. I began cutting away more and more of the second water block where it overprinted the fish. This was very difficult to do for two reasons: first, I had already cut each individual scale four times, and I was tired of it; second, when I proofed the key fish image onto the water block for reference, it was black on black, and I could only make out the detail by turning the block at an angle to the light. It's a big block, and this was awkward: even when the angle of light was just right, the detail was extremely difficult to see. To make matters worse, what was being cut away from the block appears light, but in fact becomes dark on the printed image, as the obscuring opaque white is not present.

Detail of the image with both reduction cuts printed.

The fine black lines on the eyeball were actually cut as white lines in the reduced water block.

A good deal of progress was made on the text of The River. Using a diverse array of resources, from Google Books to The Minnesota Historical Society Library, I was able to string together a series of excerpts beginning with Hennepin's account of entering Lake Pepin in 1680, and ending with Twain's sobering account of the river loosing all "romance and beauty" once he'd come to know it from the point of view of a steam boat captain. My investigation took me through early Fish and Game Department documentation about the fish and mussel populations in the lake, and also lead to the solution of an interesting taxonomic puzzle regarding the Shorthead Redhorse (Moxostoma macrolepidotum, aka Moxostoma aureolum). The above spread is from a computer-generated dummy of The River. The image you see, of the Redhorse, is from Thaddeus Surber's catalog of Minnesota fishes in 1920.

From Surber's "A Preliminary Catalogue of the Fishes and Fish-Like Vertebrates of Minnesota".

The image looked familiar to me, and it turns out that, while living in a warehouse in Saint Paul Minnesota back in the late 1970's, I had proofed the block actually used in the printing of Surber's catalog. It was kept, along with over 30 others, in an old metal tackle box, now in my possession. I plan to print them all, as one of a number of "appendices", in the back of the book.

The Tackle Box

I am currently in the middle of printing the Redhorse image. Two colors have been printed, and I'm re-cutting the blocks for the next two colors. Here I am drawing on the two colors already printed to see how I might approach re-cutting the key block. To see  a detailed description of the "reduction cutting" process, click.

With The Bicycle Diaries in the hands of the binder, I was able, at last, to get back on the river, setting out early in the morning of August 17. Attempts at catching fish were futile, but while working my way up the river I began to notice large fish floating down the river. I discovered that six of them were paddlefish: each about three feet long. I had seen one before, alive, but only briefly as it leaped from the water next to my boat. In an attempt to take full advantage of this opportunity to examine a paddlefish more closely,  I tried to lift the tail of one, but when I lifted I could hear the gurgling of air bubbles moving through the tail toward it’s bloated belly--not a pleasant sound. I left the fish in the water.

The paddlefish gill is covered by a long, thin, pointed flap that is peppered with a pattern of black spots that continue across the snout of the fish’s paddle. The skin appears scaleless, and leathery.

Back in the studio, besides dealing with an array of last minute binding decisions, and attending to various other Bicycle Diaries production details, I’ve been preparing the color blocks for the river image Moxostoma macrolepidotum, the shorthead redhorse.

The Bicycle Diaries: the final press run.

Below the Wabasha Bridge a rock-lined narrows joins the main channel of the river with her backwater. The river is still high, and as water rushes through the passage it boils and swirls into whirlpools while it drops toward the green-choked backwater maze. Floating through the narrows I remember the threat of drowning the little Tongue River of North Dakota: "The current could take you down for good" they said.

Butch Thompson kindly contributed the score: a segment of the Bessie Smith tune Backwater Blues from his 1993 CD Lincoln Avenue Blues.

The river remains high, but it's not the reason I have only been out on it twice this year. I'm nearly finished printing the engravings for The Bicycle Diaries, but I have 148 pages of text yet to print by summer's end. Printing a book is not unlike being pulled in by the current: it's sink or swim.

Cutting paper for "The Bicycle Diaries" engravings.

The days leading up to inking up the press for the first press run of a book pass slowly. Every excuse for delay is taken: sweeping the floors, getting one's hair cut, feeding the dogs. I have cut the paper for The Bicycle Diaries engravings. This is not as simple a task as you may think. A number of subtle details must be taken into account such as loction (within the printed book) of water marks, decked edges, and alternating the front and back sides of the paper throughout the book. Although the two sides of mould-made book printing paper are remarkably similar, there is a subtle difference in texture, and one side is slightly convex, making the other side, naturally, convex. It is important to alternate the relative faces of the paper or the pages will tend to cling to each other, and spreads will not open easily. All this plus the accuracy and squareness of each cut of the paper is critical.

Multiple image blocks locked into a single chase.

I used to think it was important to make images and text share the pages in a book as seamlessly as possible. Image and text would often be printed on the same page, and I had no problem printing type on the back of an image. I felt this was essential to maintaining a smooth flow through the book. I have changed my mind with Diaries. At the outset I decided to print the images not only on a separate sheet from the text, but also on a different paper with nothing printed on the back. An unexpected bonus to this approach is the opportunity to print more than one image at a time. This is possible because the printed image sheet will later be cut up, and the individual images inserted into the book in their respective positions.

Rough proof from "The Bicycle Diaries".

Much of the studio time this winter was spent working on the engravings for The Bicycle Diaries. Casting of the type in now nearly complete, and I will begin printing engravings soon. As for The River, I had two productive spurts of work on the dummy: one just after returning home from the East Coast in October, and another in the dead of winter. I have decided to treat the fish specimen prints like Benjamin Fawcett and others have done in the past--placed in the land/water scape from which they came.

A color wood engraving from "Fresh Water Fishes" (1880), engraved and printed by Benjamin Fawcett.

Photo taken when the short head red horse was caught.

While cutting the short head it occurred to me that each scale is unique--within the over-aching symmetry of the pattern there exists constant variation. Though the surface of the water seems a grand abstraction, there is really nothing abstract about it: the physics involved must be absolute.  I am interested in how these two ideas might relate to each other in the composition. I haven’t tackled the problem yet of how to do this.

Proof of the short head red horse key block in the book dummy.

I have been looking to a Dutch book of birds from (I think) the mid-nineteenth century as a typographical model for the river book.

Winter has come, and gone, since my last post. It was a long and busy season. In March the Lund Volunteer Fire Department (along with Pepin), conducted water rescue training. I am in the gumby suit being tethered so that I can be retrieved.

Yesterday the taps were removed from the maple trees. I had been going into the woods, almost daily, since mid-January laying new sap lines. This year 850 gallons of sap was hauled to Plum City for processing. The syrup will soon be available from the “special” page of the website store. Really. Label type was printed letterpress on the Heidelberg, along with the 3-color wood engraving.

A sheet of ice has begun to form. Birds still here follow the edge of the ice slowly advancing toward the center of the lake. A few days ago, while driving through, I noticed four swans still at Maiden Rock. Today two remained. I stepped out onto the ice with them. The marsh bottom beneath my feet was magnified by perhaps two inches of ice, judging by the bubbles frozen into the sheet. I was encouraged by the tracks of a man, presumably setting muskrat traps, but alarmed by the sound of ice shifting beneath my weight.

Tommy Mayo added Pomixis nigromaculatus to the species list in November.

The text of the river book will follow ( I think) two threads: one, a narrative illustrating the engravings, and two, excerpts from historical texts. So far I have selected an excerpt from Louis  Hennepin’s journal of 1690 in which he describes the sobbing of Indian men intent on killing him, a piece from Robert E. Coker reporting on the freshwater mussel (button) industry for the US Bureau of Fisheries in 1918, some of Elliott Coues’ 1895 annotated edition of Zebulon Pike’s journal from 1810 in which he cross-references accounts of various land marks around Lake Pepin from the accounts of Pike and other early European explorers, and an excerpt from Mark Twain’s description of a steamboat pilot’s view of the river from Life on the Mississippi in 1883. The excerpts will not necessarily be in chronological order, but will loosely reflect the narrative/engravings.

I visited Bill Logan in New Jersey and spent some time looking at his extensive collection of 18th and 19th century specimen prints. This timely visit kindled an interest in the idea of “hand finishing” prints, to add certain color effects, and in the use of gum arabic, applied by hand to specific spots of an image to add depth (the iris of a fish, for example). Thank you Bill. Again. (see "Sea Trials", August, 2009)

Meanwhile, it is full steam ahead in the production of The Bicycle Diaries, which I hope to finish printing this spring. I met with author Richard Goodman in New York, biked his route from the upper west side toward ground zero, and have begun engraving the images. The book will contain two full page images, two double page images, and two vignettes. The Diaries will slow progress on the river, but I am looking forward to printing fish...

Cave Paper makes fish jump.

The sobering calculation of time in the last post started a downward spiral in confidence.To base the structure of a book on a stack of expensive hand-made paper, and to expect the content to follow seems more and more absurd. I wiled away the summer fishing and writing poetry, instead of collecting specimens and recording observations. Toward the end of September, with little confidence in my grand scheme, I hit the road for the Oak Knoll Book Fest in Delaware:  but I did have a little book of river poems called Report From Pool Four. I must confess that composing and printing poetry, something I hadn't done in more than thirty years, was a pleasure.

Back home I realize that I have more than enough river material to face the coming winter. I am refreshed--renewed in my resolve to move forward with the grand scheme--due mostly to spending time with bookish friends. I will also be printing Bicycle Diaries this winter. Still time for a few more outings in the boat, I hope, before putting it away for the season.

Photo by Tommy Mayo

]]> http://www.midnightpapersales.com/blog/?feed=rss2&p=863 0 http://www.midnightpapersales.com/blog/?p=843 http://www.midnightpapersales.com/blog/?p=843#comments Sat, 07 Aug 2010 01:02:56 +0000 admin http://www.midnightpapersales.com/blog/?p=843

Pelecanus erythrorhynchos

Pelecanus erythrorhynchos took nearly a year to complete. My original plan for the river includes a large format book, in installments, with a dozen-or-so images in each one. At this rate, it will take 12 years to complete the first installment, and 120 years to include the seventy species of fish I hope to catch. I will be 175 years old.

Individual numbered prints of Pelecanus erythrorhynchos are now available in the MPS Store.

This is what was left of the key block after three reduction cuts and four printings.

Back on the river circles keep appearing. Gizzard Shad chase each other around in a shallow sideways wheel. Sometimes a shot from below sends hundreds air borne, like the first drops of an oncoming storm.

Permission granted to use Townes Van Zandt's If I Was Washington. It says it all (I think).