Fergus Rules

I think I spent too much time on my latest print,"Fergus Rules". The great thing is I learned much about determination and process.
The imagined image grew out of 2 separate drawings done a few years ago...quick sketches that became quirky characters.  I put the 2 characters in a landscape I created for them from landscapes I've taken solace from...Stage Fort Park in Gloucester and the back of my sister and brother in laws house in Gouldsboro Maine. I loved the initial drawing and decided to make a very large reductive linocut; 24" X  36" and to have many colors. I probably put more hours into this print than any other print I've created.
After 6 weeks of 10 hour stints working in my basement studio,  the print was still not done...I had 3-4 colors to go and all at once the image started pulling away from me. It seemed to have it's own ideas about color and intensity and I have to say the color direction was sometimes very frightening to me as I had invested so much time [and materials] into the print. I became afraid of destroying it completely. I hung one sheet of the print up over my bed so that I was studying it before I went to sleep and again upon awakening.  There were times that I loved the unfolding image and times when I absolutely hated it. I think I was looking at it too much.
I kept reciting old Art Nuts in my head like "There are no mistakes in Art" and "It's good to work a piece into a complex corner...thats when the potential for great things to happen can be possible" and "You'll know what the next step is when you take it". 
The print is complete now. I made an edition of 15 that I'm happy with and I even broke one of my printmaking rules and added a few improvised touches with a rubber tipped brush I bought that worked fabulously pushing around oil based ink.

This poem by W.B. Yeats played a big part in the creation of this print.

Who Goes With Fergus? by William Butler Yeats

WHO will go drive with Fergus now,

And pierce the deep wood's woven shade,

And dance upon the level shore?

Young man, lift up your russet brow,

And lift your tender eyelids, maid,

And brood on hopes and fear no more.

And no more turn aside and brood

Upon love's bitter mystery;

For Fergus rules the brazen cars,

And rules the shadows of the wood,

And the white breast of the dim sea

And all disheveled wandering stars.