Dipping my toes in monoprinting / monotyping
- Jaide Bateman
- Sep 27, 2024
- 3 min read
Updated: Feb 26
After much research and deliberation with different techniques, I hadn't realized that monoprinting techniques can produce the exact effect I have been trying to achieve in some of my watercolor works: deep shadows, varied tones, and textural elements that don't overwhelm or involve salt. Little did I know that I just needed to tap into my inner five-year-old and get back to stamping.
Monoprinting is considered a "printed painting" where a single unique print is created by etching a design into a plate, painting ink onto the plate, and transferring it to a surface. Any surface can be used as a plate; some popular plates include plexiglass, polycarbonate, gelatin, even cardboard. The ink is then transferred onto a substrate such as paper.
The Museum of Modern Art defines a monotype as a single-run unique print. Monotypes are specifically painted onto a clean plate and transferred to a single print; whereas, monoprinting involves multiple runs of the same image etched or otherwise imprinted onto the plate.
Monotypes are either light-field prints, an additive process adding inks to create the shadows, or dark-field prints, a subtractive process where the ink is applied across the entire plate and highlights are created by removing ink. The ink can be added or removed using various tools.
The man in the wooden mask (above) was created using a "light-field" technique: adding ink to a plexiglass plate and using a rubber wedge to move the ink into abstract shapes before pressing the slightly dampened 5x7 printmaking paper and rolling the back with a brayer roller.
There is an uncontrollable nature to the final press and the anticipation is exciting when you are building the plate; sometimes I found it difficult to temper my desire to rush through the composition. Naturally, those pieces were the least (in my opinion) interesting and lacking in depth, and often ended up darker and with more blocks of ink than I'd have liked. That being said, the beauty of art is we can do whatever the hell we want, so I added a gold element (below) in areas I felt I had overworked with ink. The ink is permanent and unforgiving; you can't lift what's been pressed.
When I make a mistake, and I will, I must adapt. I feel that we are often not given many opportunities to adapt on our own. We are padded by safety precautions that allow us to grow without restriction; a freedom with constraints. Creative expression feels like a healthy way to explore self-criticism and resilience. Can I pick that piece up that has been stained by my mistakes and rejection and make it into something that I can accept?
Another interesting aspect I've been playing with is the "ghost" print; aka, second run of a monotype print. Basically, you load the plate, press the first print, then press a second print with the remainder (if any) ink left on the plate. Below is an example of two prints created side by side as a result of a very saturated plate.
I've been eyeing some of my older pieces on paper that feel flat or lacking composition. I feel a few of them could benefit from the depth and spontaneity of monotype printing.
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