Matthew Smith

I do occasionally leave the New York City metropolitan area. By and large I rarely see the point, but sometimes I do. For example, I'm almost certainly going to make a trip to Washington, D.C. to see the big travelling Henri Rousseau show at the National Gallery.

Yesterday I was in Rhode Island, on the shore, visiting my Uncle Louis in his friend's summer rental. (He's not really my uncle or even my mother's cousin -- he's actually my mother's mother's cousin's son, or some other ridiculously distant relation. But he's always been close to my mother, and we've stayed close, too.) Uncle Louis, for some reason, was eager to get me to go with him to a local gallery. The gallery used to be owned by friends of his, but then they retired and rented the gallery out to another couple, and Uncle Louis always stops in to see what's going on.

Of course we're talking about a gallery on the shore of Rhode Island, so immediately you're thinking, "Lame ocean-themed stuff from local artists along with shelves of supposedly nautical knick-knacks." And you'd be right! This trip actually confirmed something for me, which is that I now officially dislike the beach. Any beach. I used to be fond of beaches, but as I've grown older they've come to annoy me more and more, and now, as I say, I've totally descended into strong dislike for the coastline. Mainly because as you get closer to any beach, humans begin to lose their minds. They start by failing to put up decent street signs, then they begin to name everything with dopey oceanic monikers like "Ocean View Inn" and "Sea Foam Diner" and "Salty Ass Video." Then they plaster everything with PRIVATE PROPERTY and NO PARKING and NO TRESPASSING posters and give everyone with out-of-state license plates the hairy eyeball. And finally they charge exorbitant prices for real estate while pouring vast amounts of insecticides, herbicides, car and boat exhaust, and cigarette stubs all over the place they supposedly love.

Kind of a rant there. Sorry.

As I said, you'd be right about the gallery. But I did see one small batch of work which intrigued me. There was no way I was going to remember the artist's name, because it was so plain it was unGooglable, but he had neatly written the method on each print, and I liked the effect so much I resolved to Google that when I got home. Well, it turns out that the artist apparently invented this method, so if you were to Google "copper block etching" most of the links you get back are in fact about Matthew Smith (told you the name was unGooglable).

I almost don't want you to go to Matthew Smith's Website, though, because if you do you'll think, "Lame ocean-themed stuff from local artist." Matthew's site is so hopelessly unprofessional you're likely to be turned off by the front page, and the reproductions of his prints are absolutely dreadful. So let me say that they are, in fact, subtle and beautiful, colorful and lively, and really, really neat. And, yes, okay, they're lame and ocean-themed, to some degree. But the method -- this copper block etching printing technique -- is capable of some really astonishing effects. Look at this blue crab right here.

Yes, it's an edition of 300, which probably qualifies it as a "commercial print/poster". And Matthew is seriously overfond of writing all over the bottom of the thing. But it's really great, and shows a lot of potential for this method of printmaking. Unfortunately, online articles are somewhat vague about what "copper block etching" is: "It involves using a deeply etched topography to layer inks of different viscosities and colors upon each other. Under the pressure of the etching press these inks react together and make their own colors, their own glow of life. The mechanics of this work are beautiful." Um, okay. That's from one article in the Exeter News-Letter. Or this, from another article:

After leaving his career as a commercial fishing boat captain, Smith took a print-making course at the University of New Hampshire from artist Scott Schneph. He experimented with different print-making techniques and in 1996, he "took a little of this and a little of that" and invented the copper-block-etching process, which allows Smith to produce the nuances of color he needs to create the effects that closely mimic natural elements.

"I told Scott Schneph what I wanted to do, and he told me that it couldn’t be done. It’s not like print-making in any other form. But I did it, and I’ve had dozens of breakthroughs after that," says Smith.

Sounds great, Rain Man. But how does it work?

I still have no clue. It sounds like a royal pain in the ass, but the results are really excellent. The final prints have a great Japanese flavor, with the expressiveness of line and the flair of color, and the texture is just fantastic. I'm not sure I have the patience for any kind of etching; judging by the Wikipedia entry on Printmaking, there's a lot of effort and chemical destruction involved at the very least, and I hate that stuff.

But, wow. It'd be really interesting to learn how to do this. Maybe I should plan a trip to New Hampshire next.