pop blueprints, explantion of process
For those of you who aren't already sick of my blueprint pop-art-ish project from being spammed with my drafts and in-progress shots on flickr, I've been working on some extensively distressed cyanotype prints from pixelated digital negatives on chunky handmade 9x12ish cotton paper. I'll unpack that phrasing in a moment. Here's the results I'm proud of so far
I've gotten a few requests to explain my process, and while I'm working on a good explanation of that for an 'about' page somewhere, here's the basic gist (and, on edit, oh dear it got long anyway):
All of my cyanotype images either start with a digital image from my phonecam or DSLR, or film that I've scanned at high DPI in order to get a far bigger image to work with than piddly 120 or 35mm film itself. In photoshop, I convert the image to black and white, mess with the highlight/shadow curves a bit to account for the weirder UV-sensitivity tendencies of the chemistry in cyanotypes, then invert the colours (to make a negative image) and flip it as a mirror image (the eventual negative will go face-down). This image I will print out at the final size of my print, either on my home inkjet using transparency film, or if I actually want the image badly pixelated, on cheaper (and conveniently more water-safe) transparecies at Office Depot.
Meanwhile, I mix up and handpaint some cyanotype sensitizer on rag paper, watercolor paper, or cotton fabric (anything absorbent, pH balanced, plant-based, sturdy enough to survive a wash and light enough of colour for the image to show up on), In the case of these prints, I'm using chunky deckle-edged "Jaipur" branded handmade cotton rag paper which I feel suits the imagery and amuses me by obviously not being able to go through a digital printer; it's also quite sturdy but falls apart in just the right kinds of pieces when inevitably overworked. Once the sensitizer is dry, I expose each sheet as a contact print in the sun on my deck, confusing my neighbors, then wash it with water in the kitchen sink, annoying my live-in partner. From there, depending on how the intentionally sloppily done print happens to be imperfect, I may slightly bleach it by painting on watered-down Cascade dishwasher liquid (non-sulfite hippie soaps won't change the colour because chemistry) to remove stains from stray sensitizer, add texture, lighten overexposed areas and hope the greenish fade in the highlights is a feature, or bleach the entire image out as a prep stage for tea-toning (more chemistry). I may then also soak the entire paper in cheap strong black tea, changing the tones as per the middle image. Bleaching it again from this point will remove contrast as well as blue in the shadows. Then I wash (again) and dry the print with a silicone rolling pin and dish towels then hanging it by binder clips in the sun. Aside from the extreme bleaching/toning stages, this is the same process as my more standard-looking cyanotypes like the New Letter Office.
Then I take a picture of the result with the same digital camera that I started with, and it comes full circle. Why? Because I like the end product which is barely a photograph, I like the back-and-forth between archaic analog and digital processes, I like dramatic chemistry-based results from perfectly safe kitchen pantry items, I like that it makes me go outside and make something with my hands.
I've gotten a few requests to explain my process, and while I'm working on a good explanation of that for an 'about' page somewhere, here's the basic gist (and, on edit, oh dear it got long anyway):
All of my cyanotype images either start with a digital image from my phonecam or DSLR, or film that I've scanned at high DPI in order to get a far bigger image to work with than piddly 120 or 35mm film itself. In photoshop, I convert the image to black and white, mess with the highlight/shadow curves a bit to account for the weirder UV-sensitivity tendencies of the chemistry in cyanotypes, then invert the colours (to make a negative image) and flip it as a mirror image (the eventual negative will go face-down). This image I will print out at the final size of my print, either on my home inkjet using transparency film, or if I actually want the image badly pixelated, on cheaper (and conveniently more water-safe) transparecies at Office Depot.
Meanwhile, I mix up and handpaint some cyanotype sensitizer on rag paper, watercolor paper, or cotton fabric (anything absorbent, pH balanced, plant-based, sturdy enough to survive a wash and light enough of colour for the image to show up on), In the case of these prints, I'm using chunky deckle-edged "Jaipur" branded handmade cotton rag paper which I feel suits the imagery and amuses me by obviously not being able to go through a digital printer; it's also quite sturdy but falls apart in just the right kinds of pieces when inevitably overworked. Once the sensitizer is dry, I expose each sheet as a contact print in the sun on my deck, confusing my neighbors, then wash it with water in the kitchen sink, annoying my live-in partner. From there, depending on how the intentionally sloppily done print happens to be imperfect, I may slightly bleach it by painting on watered-down Cascade dishwasher liquid (non-sulfite hippie soaps won't change the colour because chemistry) to remove stains from stray sensitizer, add texture, lighten overexposed areas and hope the greenish fade in the highlights is a feature, or bleach the entire image out as a prep stage for tea-toning (more chemistry). I may then also soak the entire paper in cheap strong black tea, changing the tones as per the middle image. Bleaching it again from this point will remove contrast as well as blue in the shadows. Then I wash (again) and dry the print with a silicone rolling pin and dish towels then hanging it by binder clips in the sun. Aside from the extreme bleaching/toning stages, this is the same process as my more standard-looking cyanotypes like the New Letter Office.
Then I take a picture of the result with the same digital camera that I started with, and it comes full circle. Why? Because I like the end product which is barely a photograph, I like the back-and-forth between archaic analog and digital processes, I like dramatic chemistry-based results from perfectly safe kitchen pantry items, I like that it makes me go outside and make something with my hands.