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The trace transfer lettering was a little bit smudgy. There’s something about the red oil ink that gets very oily in humidity. Modifying the ink doesn’t always achieve the result I want. You only get one shot at this. No going back, and no way to tell how the transfer is going until you lift off the paper . either, “Voila”, or “1ÓÏÏ•ª˚Ô”.
That is what is so magical and exciting about printmaking. The eureka factor. The happy accident.
Not at all like painting. So direct. So controllable. I spent at least the first 10 years of being a serious artist painting realistically. Then, I realized how much time I was taking on “perfection”. Which led me back to printmaking. Love them both. Isn’t it odd that I now make one of a kind prints. There has to be some kind of dark psychology there. Or not.