Ollie Norris

For the upcoming Research Festival, I wanted to create a publication that contained my series of cloud prints, originally, I wanted to format this in the style of a very classically leather-bound, old book. I wanted to do this to reflect the more classical format of the mezzotint, and I wanted each image to be accompanied a ‘formless’ memory, or comment. These memories were written down in my sketchbook, as and when I recollected them. I soon realised, however, that the form of this book would be too rigid, and wouldn’t reflect the formless and transmutable nature of both the image of the cloud and memory that I wanted to convey. I instead decided to have the prints and words structured loosely in a copper box, so that any of the words could be associated with any cloud. Below is a log of making this publication.

My original idea was to make the copper box in a much larger format. I wanted to do this because I wanted the words to be printed or etched onto thin sheets of polished framing glass. This was to try and retain the visual language that I had developed for the Degree Show, where my prints were displayed on glass and copper shelves. I quickly realised, however, that the practicality of this didn’t make much sense, and having people paw at thin pieces of glass is asking for disaster, while also being too clunky to give off the ephemeral nature that I wanted to convey. I also realised that the design for the box would have been too complicated and not very streamlined and serene with it’s double hinged lid, that would have to be clasped somewhere. I did enjoy the idea of the transparency in the glass and the ability to look through the words into the print, but didn’t want to use plastic as this would’ve taken away from the experience of touching the publication, I therefore decided to pursue printing the words on thin Japanese paper.

The use of copper is especially important to me for many reasons, as previously mentioned, copper is associated with alchemy, especially the planet, Venus. The material also relates back to the mezzotint process, even though the plates in this collection are zinc, I still wanted to pay homage to the process. I also liked the idea of the copper box as it directly related back to my previous work in the Degree Show with my glass and copper shelves, I really wanted the pieces to feel as if they were crafted with a consistent visual language. I also began to think about the idea of the feeling of holding a beautiful copper box. It was of utmost importance that the whole viewer interface with the publication felt special and comfortable. Finally, I thought that the copper would have the same vibe as a hand-me-down, or a jewellery box, I wanted it to have that precious, intimate nostalgia to it.

I began creating the copper sleeve by first measuring the size of my insert. I then measured out and cut the copper with a guillotine. I had to remeasure and recut a couple of times due to the fact that I didn’t account for the size of the folded edges. I was finally left with the correct size of copper and measured and scribed the folding edges, before cutting the corners carefully with a jeweller’s saw. It was important to me that the design of the sleeve was as simple as humanly possible, originally, I wanted the whole box to made out of one folded sheet of copper, but this wasn’t possible with the machinery available in the metal workshops, so I settled on two separate pieces that would have to be carefully fixed together. In this cutting and folding stage, I also marked and cut a thumbhole into each piece and filed the sharp edges away. As previously mentioned, I wanted the whole experience of interacting with the piece to be smooth and inviting, and these holes helped to indicate that the box was meant to be touched and opened.

The next step in finalising the sleeve was fixing the two pieces together. I attempted first to braze the copper together with some thin copper rods and a blowtorch. This worked excellently on a small test piece, but in practice on the actual sleeve, the size of the copper, it’s prowess in conducting heat, and the hollow chamber inside wicked all the heat away from the edges I tried to join together. I also tried silver solder, but the same results occurred. After trying these more complex methods, I realised that a plumber would most likely work with thicker, larger pieces of copper, with similar hollow chambers, and they manage to solder copper together all the time. As a result of this, I just bought some tin plumber’s solder and flux and it worked perfectly, but did leave the sleeve in a big mess. As a result of this I had to spend around 3 hours filing, sanding and buffing the copper back to its original lustre.

The final result was this beautiful copper sleeve. I’m really impressed with how this came out and at this point I’m very enthusiastic and optimistic about the outcome of this project. The final construction is almost seamless, and is polished to a beautiful lustre. I think that people will pick this up and feel the cool weight of the copper and have a positive experience with interacting with the publication. The weight of the copper, combined with the thin Japanese paper within will really juxtapose each other and reflect the paradoxical nature of the cloud itself, both physical and weighty, while simultaneously floaty and ephemeral. I would also quite like it if the piece was slowly tarnished as viewers touch it, allowing the box itself to become a vessel of human touch and memory.

The following is the working version of my publication insert. Please bare in mind when scrolling through that the images and pieces of text inside are in no particular order and any can accompany each other in any order. This is to reflect the formless and mutable nature of clouds and memory, how they can form, reform, take on new meanings and evoke different emotions. The edges of the prints inside have been torn and then coloured black in order to create ephemeral and floaty ‘cloud-fragments’ that are soft and almost not there to the touch. Although I have experimented with different kinds of Japanese paper and tissues, and I do enjoy the feeling of this Kozo paper, and the strange quality of the text on it, I believe the colour is interrupting the flow of the piece. I think that I will try to monoprint the paper completely black, before screen-printing on it in a different colour. I also would like to monoprint the writing onto the paper by hand by scratching into the plates before using them to make the paper black, even though I didn’t enjoy the look of my handwriting on previous attempts to handwrite the words onto the paper.