Engraving Printer's Notes

The printer performs many tasks to keep prints alive, crafting and designing solutions to problems posed by everyone in the project.

9707221353

He came as he promised he would and I asked him right away: "What is this business about Living Prints?" He answered right away: "I don't know." Then, as an afterthought--I suppose--he added: "Yet."

Then, he asked me: "Have you ever had a real moment?" It caught me off guard. But I said, "What you mean, I suppose, is a moment of deep cognition, an experience of epiphany. Yes, I've had those." But I was still thinking about the Curator and Publisher, though, and what I would tell them.

The artist continued: "There's a woman who talks on the radio--one of those feel good stations. She has it down better than I do." Oh no, I thought to myself, he's going New Age! He was looking at me earnestly and went on. "I thought--when I heard her talk about real moments--it was so like my Living Prints. Have you ever looked at the backs of my prints, lately?"

I said, "Once I did. I was explaining to a student how you registered your plates and I showed him the marks on the back." "Did you see the numbers?" "Well, I saw strings of numbers. What do they mean?" "Those are the moments of that particular print. That's how I think I will learn what Living Prints means." He seemed satisfied, but I was still confused. All I could think of at the moment was what was I going to tell the Publisher and the Curator. He was worried because the artist kept retrieving prints that the Curator had already logged.

The Curator had them framed, and still the artist would take them out of their frames--no matter how beautifully she did the job, and he takes them to an Open Press to print on them again. The Publisher said something to him--that it was weird--but he only responded, "Make my day, then, buy it!" which I guess meant that was the only thing that would stop him from recycling through the suite, ad infinitum.

9706121300

He yattered on about a class he was a part of last year and how he thought things like what he wanted me to do were so much like what factory workers do. He didn't have to tell me that!

While he talked he showed me just how he wanted his paper notched every half-inch, and then a hole punched in where he'd already punch it with a dull pencil. It was simple, and--except for the part about giving the edges that deckle-look, I thought he was getting way too detailed. Like, I needed so many details!

I thought about the lunch I'd had with my old Chinese friend, and how common people can only do small tasks. I'll be so glad to get back to my own things. On the other hand, I liked watching the artist showing me, and I even thought his comparison with TQM was enlightening, in a way, because, for one thing, factory workers don't have to be all alone all the time like I do. It might be nice, in some ways. Maybe I should think about getting a factory job, too.

9704261249

"You are fifty-five years old. You should be excited. You should have emotions like those of a person going out for a first-time ever experience of some kind. Imagine, for example, that you are about to undergo surgery."

I looked at her, disbelieving. "Yes," she went on, as though warning me. "Major, MAJOR surgery. Open heart. Bypass. Brain. . . think of it like that. For that's what some people--people without someone or something like me within their hearts and minds--are doing this very moment!"

I thought about what she said when I got to the club. I was putting on my shorts--the nylon kind that never seem to wear out. I've worn them almost every day that I work out, which is almost every day except when I'm--as I like to say--giving my life to someone else, or something else. They are the same old shorts. The same baggy tank-top I got at that University in Idaho years ago. The same cheap shoes. White socks.

Now I remember what she said and how she said it. It's true. I'm about to do something that's never been done: Thirty minutes of stairmaster on a 19th-century style machine in a 20th Century-style fitness club, getting myself ready for a voyage in the next millenium. What a prospect! And now I'm ready. Now I feel the freedom!

9611032102

I heard him say on the 'phone, "Well, maybe he and Emerald are in heaven, together again." I think he was talking about that guy he'd had that dream about. I think the guy died. He didn't talk about him, though, when he got off the 'phone.

9610181010

He watched me as I removed the tight, dry papers that covered his prints. I asked him what he was looking at. I think he wanted me to be careful releasing his prints from their stretcher-dryers.

I said, "There is an excitement two times when I work: Once when I'm just pulling the blankets back from your plate and, like now, when I'm getting them out of their wraps."

"Well," he said, "it's an addiction, didn't you know?"

9610141243

He complained about having to stop and show the process for the second time for the video-eye, explaining politely that these were things that happen once, truly, and doing them a second time was misleading and disingenuous. The publisher just looked at him. I think he had an agreement and the artist had to do it for a second--or a third or fourth or as many times it took!

Later he told me the real reason he was reluctant was because he was trying to distract himself from the plates and the images, how they fit together, what they meant, and so on. It was confusing to me. But I figured I didn't have to understand, anyway. Still, I couldn't help but think ahead to how it'd feel to be printing these, and I wondered if he actually knew what he was doing. When I asked him, sometimes, how he wanted me to print, he seemed like he didn't really know, and he was making up his directions just to make my job seem easy or pleasant.

It's almost like he felt sorry for having created the plates, making work for me.

9610131457

When I came to see if he needed any new impressions he said no. I hung around and listened since the professor was there and I gathered they were talking about plaster prints again. I hope he gets off that kick pretty soon. I hate those.

Then the professor left and the artist seemed depressed. He said to me, "I suppose I should tell someone just in case I want to make a point of it. I didn't put this in my dream database because I really don't like the guy's name anywhere in my records. But I can tell you. He was there in my dream. He looked pretty bad but his hair was still black. One eye looked injured. He was in good spirits and I was polite. He said to me he had been reading about a couple guys that were just like him and me."

The artist was quiet a few seconds and stared at the copper plate in front of him. He had hooked up a desk light over it and the copper gleamed, the newly-engraved lines creating a brilliant, pretty pattern. "I didn't say anything because I actually was thinking he'd died by now, so I should be polite--the dead and near-dead, you know. He'd mellowed--in my dream anyway. I still don't like that notion that he and I were somehow involved as equals, though, and I wanted to deny it. But I'd denied that all along in real life and it didn't do any good."

I guessed that was the end of his description of his dream, because he picked up his burin and began to pick at his plate. I was about to go when he said, "You know what scientists say? 'When we don't like somebody, we don't criticize his or her work.' So that's all I have to say about that dream and that man."

9609242005

It was dark when I got out. My ride wouldn't come for a half hour, so I sat down where she said she'd pick me up. I had some crackers and the new print to keep me company. That was an interesting experience. Several times when I was getting the plate ready I thought about what Robert wrote, about artists and their education. Everything about the studio seemed to say, "You see--just like Robert said. Time has stood still all those years while the rest of the world was changing, printmaking stayed the same. Or went backward, or underground somewhere."

9609241800

My thumb was almost cramped from rubbbing in the thick, purple ink--something she was not used to. He hadn't got the facts right. I was supposed to bring ink, tarlatan-everything. Luckily I met Leslie, whom I've known a long time, and Leslie said, "Use anything of mine you want to." She produced a half-dozen assorted colors--everything but black. I took a purple, made in France. The price was still on the tube--$32! Wow!--like wine. That'd be good right now, I was thinking, as I worked the ink into his plate with her thumb.

	Artist's Diary	The artist provides the vision and imagery of the living print, laboring after the compelling image.
	Curator's Log	The curator is seldom seen but is always seeing to it that the living prints' records are correct and rules followed.
	Publisher's Journal	The publisher produces the bases for living prints by supporting all the players and keeping communications clear and on course.
	Professor's Papers	The professor explains the living print, the history of printmaking, and keeps the academic community informed.