The Road to Laser Woodblock Prints IV: Learning the Water

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 the tones used in Japanese prints and experimented with different combinations to achieve similar shades: muted blossom pinks, smoky greys, warm browns and dusk blues. Even before the printing starts, there is already a quiet world of judgement and subtle decision-making involved.

I began with the key block with lines. The first thing that struck me was the sheer physical labour of printing. The repeated brushing, rubbing and pressure of the baren quickly made my shoulder and arm ache; clearly these were muscles that had not been used properly in a long time. The sound of the brush moving back and forth across the damp block, and the circular rubbing of the baren against the paper, gradually became strangely rhythmic and absorbing. After a while, I slowly began to find a rhythm of my own. As the block absorbed more moisture it became less “thirsty”, requiring less water and pigment, and the printing gradually became smoother and easier.

There was also a distinct satisfaction in lifting the paper and seeing the dark lines emerge cleanly from the damp surface for the first time. The lines themselves actually printed rather well, which encouraged me greatly.

Completed prints with lines

The problems began when I moved onto the colour blocks.

I started with the simplest yellow areas: the crossing light and the square cartouche. Unlike the large key block, however, these smaller areas meant the block as a whole remained relatively dry and therefore did not expand in quite the same way. By the time I came to print them, the paper itself had also begun drying. The result was that the colours no longer registered correctly with the printed lines.

Mis-registered yellow cartouche due to shrinkage of the wood block

I tried again, but encountered the same issue. It was admittedly rather disheartening.

After pausing for a while, I realised that moisture itself was perhaps the central problem. The blocks needed to be sufficiently damp in order to expand consistently, while the paper likewise needed to retain stable moisture throughout the printing process.

I dampened the blocks more thoroughly and waited around twenty minutes before trying again. The results improved noticeably, although another issue emerged: the paper itself was perhaps slightly too thin, and the black lines began to smudge a little when re-moistened.

At that point I decided to stop for the day.

Although I did not achieve the results I had originally hoped for, I learnt a tremendous amount. Next time I will dampen all the blocks evenly before beginning, and I will also need to find a better method of maintaining moisture within the paper itself. Perhaps it may even be better to allow the first impressions to dry thoroughly and fully set before carefully re-moistening them for later colour passes.

I write none of this with the authority of an expert printer or craftsman, but simply to record the experiences and difficulties involved in the process. In many ways, struggling with these problems only deepens one’s admiration for the true masters of Japanese woodblock printing. Their control over water, paper, pigment and pressure is genuinely extraordinary.

The more one attempts it oneself, the less these prints appear merely reproduced images, and the more they begin to feel like delicate negotiations between water, paper, wood and time.