Printmaking is a dance between precision and surprise. You prepare meticulously, then humidity, temperature, and pressure change your mind for you.
That's where the magic happens.
Grease, acid, gum arabic, ink, pressure, time,
blood, sweat, and tears.
I've explored several forms of lithography since college. The flora-wrapped tarot reader (Intuition) and the red moth (Atlas) are Pronto plate lithos, a lighter and more accessible alternative to traditional limestone blocks.
The others are stone lithographs. Each one is drawn on heavy limestone, printed, and then erased to make room for the next piece. I work with image transfers, grease washes, and grease pencils to build high-contrast compositions. The process is delicate. Even breathing on the stone can leave unwanted marks.
After drawing, the stone goes through a series of chemical treatments with gum arabic, citric acid, and tree resins. Rolling on the first layer of ink is the moment weeks of work becomes visible.
Printing itself is about pressure. The stone rolls through the press under careful layers of paper, plexiglass, and grease, and a single edition might repeat hundreds of times depending on the technique.

'Intuition'



Dear Walter is a five-piece stone lithography series exploring dream-connections with my grandfather, an engineer whose dedication to excellence still shapes how I work. Each piece pulls a fragment of him forward,

The dream opens in a station. Vaulted glass, iron ribs overhead, a figure standing at the edge of the tracks. Grandpa spent his life around trains, so this is where he meets me first, in the architecture he knew by heart.

Wheels, steam, steel, filling the frame. This is what an engineer's granddaughter sees when her grandfather shows up in a dream.

The dream fractures. A figure emerges through the machinery, steam and light, guiding. His lessons didn't leave when he did. He's still here, still leading, still over my shoulder.
Plan, prepare, carve, test, carve, test, print, repeat.
A reductive linocut is a dance with permanence. You start with a single linoleum block and carve away layers for each color, printing between every carving session. Once you carve away material for a color, it's gone forever. You can't go back.
This locomotive piece shows what the technique can do. Deep blues in the background against rusty reds and stark whites make an almost confrontational portrait of a steam engine. I carved out each layer to build up the mechanical details, the circular headlight, the intricate grille, all the parts that make the engine feel like it's staring at you.
It's sculpting in reverse and in time. You plan from lightest to darkest, and every cut closes a door. The magic and the terror are the same thing, you commit, and the commitment shows up in every print in the edition.

'Line 41897'
Running with Scissors is an ongoing series of reductive linocuts. Every bird carries a pair of scissor beaks, and every scene puts them somewhere they probably shouldn't be. The series is about danger, freedom, and balance, and about the small thrill of holding something sharp while trying to stay still.
The name is a wink at the process. A reductive linocut is its own kind of running with scissors. One block, one wrong cut, one edition affected forever. The birds and I are doing the same thing.
The piece that started the series. A flamingo balances inside an arched niche, scissor beak raised, balancing on a broken alarm clock. Time is ticking, the pose is impossible, and the bird looks completely unbothered.
This is the tone the rest of the series follows: high stakes, calm face.
A sunbird perches on a balanced scale with a red balloon tied to one of the empty sides. The bird stares at the balloon with the focus of someone about to make a decision.
Will the balloon pop? Will the scale tip?
Look closer and the tension resolves.
Everything is going to be alright. The bird knows something we don't.
Although I focused on stone lithography in my Fine Arts BFA, a home studio doesn't come with a limestone slab and thousands of dollars of tools, presses, and toxic chemicals. Linocuts are how I keep printmaking in my life. Same instincts, different tools.
The Running with Scissors series is still in progress. New press, new inks, new ideas. More birds with sharp beaks coming soon.