Taking the Printmaking Plunge

[Editor’s Note] ArtsWestchester’s ArtsMobile Coordinator Michael Keough recently recounted a time when the mobile arts van introduced a new artform to some of its young participants. I asked him to write an article from his own perspective about this encounter.

It was a summer evening in July and I was with the ArtsMobile team at Druss Park in White Plains for an event from the City’s “Nights in the Park” series. Our job, as usual, was to bring arts into the community and provide arts access to as many people as possible.  This time, we were presenting a printmaking workshop. It is always heartening when we get to introduce new artforms to people who may not have had exposure to it otherwise, and that’s what happened on this night.

Printmaking is a medium that has been used throughout history, dating back to the Sumerians, and today is still applied in many creative contexts. However, due to the unique set of supplies needed, it isn’t as common and available as something like paints. We set up a three-step monoprint assembly line that was at the ready by the time the event-strollers gravitated towards our workspace.

On this particular evening, we witnessed a range of emotions from those who participated: hesitation, curiosity, wonder and joy. All in that order!

In the latter half of our time there, I noticed two young participants in particular who truly reveled in taking their first printmaking journey. Along with their mother, they were a brother and sister around 8-10 years old. First they watched from a distance, then decided to take the printmaking plunge.

Hesitation. After seeing the participants before them leave with their creations, they all carefully approached our printmaking factory. Curiosity. They’d filed in line behind the other curious creators, awaiting their turn at this new activity. Though within a few seconds, the brother peeled off for the nearby playground instead, leaving his sister and mother to test the printmaking waters. While I wasn’t positive that we’d see him again, something told me he would be back.

A few minutes later, the line thinned out and the now-party-of-two reached the first table. While I was two tables down helping kids pick their desired color of construction paper to print on, my focus was partially on them as I’d noticed them observing from the outskirts. Our volunteer, Andy, gave instructions on how the process worked and handed the girl a marker to begin creating.

After drawing her picture on the foam board, she carefully outlined her drawing, making impressions in the foam with the little wooden stick. Next up: the inking station. Our teaching artist, Miguel Cossio, was there to show her how to apply her chosen ink color to her foam creation using the rubber brayer. Finally, she made her way to the last station, where another volunteer, Verna, and I were ready to help her pick a piece of colored construction paper and perform the final step: transferring her very own image. We helped her flip the foam board ink-side-down onto the center of the paper and instructed her to press down hard while she rolled (printed) over the back of the foam board with another type of brayer.

We slowly lifted the foam board from the paper to see the final product. “Wow!,” she exclaimed with eyes wide open and a smile. Wonder and joy.

The novelty of this type of reaction never fades for me. Seeing someone do something for the first time are moments I will always cherish. They bring me back to when I was a kid and how a brand-new experience would wash over me like a warm ocean wave and open new doors in my mind. I feel lucky when I get to watch this happen for someone else in real-time.

“I’m going to show my brother!” she declared, before running toward the playground. Just as I’d hoped, her brother returned to try his hand at this newly-discovered art magic. Only this time, she played the role of an ArtsMobile team member, guiding him through the process, and ending with the same beaming reaction. This is the power that art has – and both the creator and the observer share it.