Pain of My Labor

I got a wood rolling pin for free, and it immediately reminded me of the hand-inking rollers used for the process of lithography. These rubber rollers were the bane of my existence. I have chronic health issues with atopic dermatitis. Which, a majority of the time, affects the use of my hands. These types of rollers were very hard on my body to use. I would wear gloves to try to save myself from having to wash my hands too often, but I can’t wear gloves for too long, or my skin reaction would be worse than if I didn’t wear gloves at all. After ten minutes of using a hand-inking roller, I would lose strength and ability to hold onto them, let alone make repeating motions. A common trigger for flare-ups is stress, and for one year of my life, I had to stop using my hands as much as possible. I had to stop making art so I could find a treatment that worked for me. It was devastating not even having the ability to hold a pencil without being in pain because I had lost a dangerous amount of layers of skin. 

Making art, even for no audience at all, is something that fuels my soul. Losing most use of my hands became challenging in many ways, I don’t feel like myself when I’m not creating. Once I healed enough and was given the okay to use my hands, I slowly started to create again. I became hesitant in my craftsmanship. I started to fear printmaking as a craft. It is still, to this day, the hardest process on my hands, but it is my favorite. Carving for wood relief prints is extremely relaxing for me. However, I always struggle with preferring how my carving turns out compared to how it prints. So, I’ll often go down the rabbit hole of becoming too intense when making proofs of works until I feel confident in their final form. 

I decided to return to printmaking with this rolling pin to explore the pain that comes with creating art, mainly self-doubt. I hand-carved my design into my rolling pin. I had never carved into a surface that wasn’t flat. I oriented it so that the message “my skin will always betray” would repeat when creating prints and using newsprint paper to make strips for wallpaper proofs. The text being backward was referencing my dyslexia and how that can make printing text challenging at times. Displaying an overwhelming amount of proofs to my audience that completely covers the walls and floor of my space. I invite my audience to interact with the space by invading it. Stepping on the floor will cause wrinkles and even result in the newsprint being ripped. Along with this installation was a performance of me printing these strips of wallpaper. Never reaching my standard and resulting in them being ripped up and discarded on the floor. I slowly become more irritated with each failed proof until I start printing onto myself, my clothes, and the skin that has betrayed me. The structure I stand in makes for a makeshift print shop inside my mind. Made with a door so I can leave anytime; I can stop anytime. However, I’ve trapped myself in a moment of insanity. Creating the same print over and over, expecting it to be different, expecting it to be better. The print shop is a structure I hope to reuse in many different projects. It was originally used as a newsstand for zines.  At the end of installations of this piece I invite audiences to tear down my proofs. To take home or just to destroy.