After the frustrations of my previous printing session, I returned to the blocks with slightly more patience and, I hope, a little more understanding of the process. One of the dangers with woodblock printing is the temptation to force solutions too quickly: adding more pigment, rubbing harder, or trying to correct mistakes through sheer determination. The more I worked, however, the more I began to realise that the process depends less on force than on balance and timing. I

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.

Komura Settai, Illustration for the novel, Edo Yakusha by Kunieda Kanji On patterns, poetry, and the art of subtle emotion In a certain...

As an artist working with strong Japanese influences, I sometimes get asked about my justification for this cultural 'appropriation'....

The influence of Hokusai on subsequent artists is truly huge; ranging from Degas, Van Gogh, Klimt, Picasso (he loved the octopus and...