I have very vague memories of doing these as a child, but I may be mistaken. Of all the things to give to young children, small, sharp chisels do not seem an obvious choice. (Then again, I learnt how to ride a bike before helmets were a thing. A few nicks in the fingers seem harmless by comparison.)
If I have used the stuff, it was definitely a very long time ago, but over the past few weeks, lino has come back into my life as part of a printmaking class. I love the graphic quality of the medium, and the kind of abstraction it comes with.
For this particular piece, my focus were lines, and my starting point were some very old photos of a kingfisher.
One of the trips I made with my family in Newfoundland was to Burgeo on the south coast of the island. Once you leave Highway 1, this is a 150-km drive on Route 180, also called the Caribou Trail, which is supposed to be great for seeing – you guessed it! – caribou. For all we know, there were herds of them standing within metres of the road, but we never saw them. I will forever remember this journey as the journey of fog. There was fog when we crossed the barrens. Fog in Burgeo. Fog when we took the ferry to Ramea. And when we went to explore Sandbanks Provincial Park, the spectacular (I am told) beaches were shrouded in fog.
It was not the kind of weather we had hoped for, but the washed-out landscapes did have their eerie charm. And on one of the beaches in Sandbanks Park, I found a bright speck of colour: A tangle of seaweed washed up on the shore.