What is an IRIS print, technically speaking?
The next step is transporting the digital information to the IRIS
printer, a machine with a drum onto which Somerset paper is taped. For
about an hour the drum rotates and tiny nozzles smaller than a hair
squirt millions of droplets of ink onto the paper. They overlap and
saturate so that the end result has an effect much like a woodcut: they
glow in a way off-set prints cannot do.
What is the archival longevity of an IRIS print?
What is the "hand" in the corner?
Can one tell the difference between an IRIS print and a woodcut?
How did you start making digital prints?
What draws you to working in this medium?
And there are infrequent times when I've composed almost directly on
Adobe Photoshop with the expertise of Jon Cone or his assistant
printer, Larry Danque. These are moments of mind into matter; the printmaker's dream of envisioning and promptly seeing it realized comes true.
("Metaphore I and II" for example).
Why are some of your prints both woodcut and IRIS?
For some images, the proofs may be done as woodcuts, but for practical
reasons the edition is done with IRIS. ("Val Tiberina" for example).
I intend to have the medium serve my visual goals. It is a wonderful
technology, without restrictions. I expect IRIS has assets and
effects that I haven't thought of yet.
IRIS prints begin with a prototype created by the artist. This can be
an elaborate painting or a woodcut, or simply a few scraps of paper and
a concept. I usually begin with a collage combined with gouache. This
prototype is scanned into Adobe Photoshop. At this point the changes
possible are limitless, which can be daunting but is also thrilling. I
generally use this stage to fine-tune the prototype, although I may also
make radical additions and deletions. There is amazing freedom in
creating IRIS prints.
IRIS prints are not any more vulnerable to sunlight than other works of
art. IRIS inks now have a long life now versus those once used. My
IRIS prints are also finished with a transparent ultra violet
protective coating.
The "hand" is called a "chop," which is the identity image for the
artist. In this instance I printed my hand on a piece of paper,
reversed it so it shows white against color, and reduced it. This chop
identifies my IRIS prints as distinct from my woodcuts.
If the paper can be touched you will feel immediately that IRIS paper
is stiff as opposed to the flexible woodblock printing paper. But if
it is under glass you may have a hard time distinguishing IRIS from
woodcut. That is why I devised my IRIS "chop" in the form of my own
hand print, which you will see next to my signature only on IRIS prints.
Jon Cone invited me to collaborate on a silk screen print just as he
was phasing out of that medium and into IRIS in 1993. The seduction of
the IRIS medium was immediately captivating to me and I designed my
next print, "Spring on the Upper Connecticut River," to be made this
way. I wasn't disappointed; the accuracy and beauty of the medium won
my heart.
Although I love cutting blocks I have come to a place in my career
where I am designing at the edge of the envelope as far as hand
printing goes. A number of large blocks and a piece of paper that
absorbs and expands accordingly make the hairline registration I seek
problematic. IRIS seems logical when detail is profuse and scale is
small.
Sometimes a print starts out as a woodcut, but the blocks for an "open
edition" woodcut sometimes become so worn or warped that they can't
produce a good impression any longer. Then we take a printer's proof
and have it scanned and printed as an IRIS with the hand chop on it.
