In 2017, during a trip to the arctic, I made several large cyanotype prints. Pieces of sea ice were placed on light sensitive papers, which were then exposed to the sunlight and washed in the freezing waters of Disko Bay, at the western edge of the Greenlandic icecap.
At the time I cast them aside, believing that they had not been successful, but nonetheless brought the exposed sheets back home, where they languished in a drawer in my studio.
30 months later in March 2020, a return trip to the arctic was thwarted by the Coronavirus pandemic and, confined to my home studio, I felt inspired to rework the prints.
Now sliced into tiny pieces, some hand-embellished with silk fibres, wax or acrylic, perhaps they tell something of far north after all…
These miniatures are now incorporated into a handcrafted, leporello, hardback book.
SIKU | Sea Ice
Fragments of a disappearing landscape.
In 2017, during a trip to the arctic, I made several large cyanotype prints. Pieces of sea ice were placed on light sensitive papers, which were then exposed to the sunlight and washed in the freezing waters of Disko Bay, at the western edge of the Greenlandic icecap.
At the time I cast them aside, believing that they had not been successful, but nonetheless brought the exposed sheets back home, where they languished in a drawer in my studio.
30 months later in March 2020, a return trip to the arctic was thwarted by the Coronavirus pandemic and, confined to my home studio, I felt inspired to rework the prints.
Now sliced into tiny pieces, some hand-embellished with silk fibres, wax or acrylic, perhaps they tell something of far north after all…
These miniatures are now incorporated into a handcrafted, leporello, hardback book.