Detail of inked woodblock After an intensely busy period at work, I finally had a free weekend to properly begin printing with the woodblocks. Up until now, much of the process had involved designing, carving and planning, but this felt like the moment where the prints themselves might finally begin to emerge. Before printing, I spent quite a long time studying colour. Mixing colour for Japanese-style woodblock printing is something of an art in itself. I looked carefully at

I collected the twelve ōban woodblocks on a lunch break in Bermondsey, greeted by the warm smell of freshly cut wood. Carrying them back through the heat, arms aching, the reality of the project set in. Paper, pigments, water, nori—nothing was as simple as it seemed. Choosing materials was one thing; learning how to use them was another. Already, I felt the quiet uncertainty that comes with beginning something truly new.

Edward Luper, Cherry Blossoms at Regents Park, 2026 The difficulty was not in making the drawing, but in learning how to limit it. In earlier work, I had not needed to think in such terms. In my series of views of the tower, colour was something that could be extended almost indefinitely. A pane of glass might contain several shades within it, each slightly different, shifting with light. There was no particular need to reduce or simplify. The image could absorb variation wit