My walking companion explained that not everything that is drawn on the block comes from the first sketch, and this building up of the image is typical of the whole process. A freedom is retained in this way. Japanese U and V tools produce the relief that will take the ink. The inking process is intriguing. Only ever using the same five Indian inks (Yes! Another distinctive feature), the wood block is often jigsaw cut to allow the rolled sea green ink of the hills to sit flush with sea blue of the sky, and perhaps the marigold yellows and browns of fields, the default white of clouds or chalk paths, before the 1844 Columbian press at the bip-Art printmaking studio in Brighton is used for the print. Helen's mixed media approach further involves post - tinting to add texture and subtle tones, and often
chine colle paper sections in the final print.
Meadow browns and chalk blue butterflies frittered around the intricately cupped "umbrellas" of wild carrot flowers, tendrilling vetch and the ultramarine spikes of viper's bugloss, reminding us what a rich biosystem we have right here on our southern English downland. Poppies sometimes feature in the work, the hit of red always striking against the cooler colourways.
Helen was candid about "moving" the occasional tree, and not representing every last copse in the distance. Or having a field of rape where there is now a field of wheat. I suggested that this could be a pleasing nod to how the landscape is ever-changing over time anyway, like the air currents in her skyscapes. I pointed out some sheep above us. "I don't do sheep!" (I didn't pry! Fair enough...)
We reached the summit which now opened up superb views in all directions, over the darkening weald north and west to the white flash of chalk pit by Offham, where peregrines nest. Mount Caburn was an Iron Age hill fort of some kind, and you can understand why. Earth rings that bolstered the wooden fortification are still much in evidence. Whether it had a primarily military or religious purpose remains a subject of debate. It certainly remains atmospheric. The Ouse snaked silver towards the visible sea, with the Glynde stream winding east off it, and road traffic and occasional train proceeding toy-like below. Helen shared with me that she missed her beloved dog Mutley who had recently passed away, and that over many years he had accompanied her on her sketching trips up onto the downs. The rescued lurcher-collie had been great company and enjoyed chasing, if not catching, rabbits on expeditions. After a suitable interval Helen would like to get another canine companion, she said.
Each woodblock (or lino for the very largest work) produces up to 45 limited prints, but each is unique by virtue of which papers are incorporated, and which inks and blends are used where. The working "lifetime" of a particular block was typically 5 - 7 years. Printing is in small batches, 3 or 4, with a week for drying.
I asked Helen if she was tempted to turn her gaze to other locations. She explained that it was really important for her to work where she lives, in a place that she has grown deeply familiar with over time. For instance, after several months living in India, she felt ready to interpret her surroundings. In any case, the contours of the chalk downs, the mix of wood and small fields up and over them and the wide skies is endlessly inspiring. As we walked over Malling Down on our way back to Lewes, I couldn't disagree.
You can see some of Helen Brown's work currently on sale in Skylark here
The River and Mount Caburn - Helen Brown