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A note on traveling with a plate.
The distant mountains and the small objects are right here with me, on the plate. I am touching the cliff of the distant rock-face with the etching needle. I follow the confusing lines of the mangrove-roots with a pencil. The tip of the lead and the needle’s point are my fingertips. I draw and get my bearing. I get closer connected to where I happen to be. Or is my surrounding closing in on me?
Time seems to slow down as I work. The moment is extended, the flow of time measured, departure delayed. While I observe, the other senses are alert: I taste the air and the dust, I feel the rough stones, hear the cicadas, smell the smoke. And somehow this will find its way into the picture. The sketched lines of first thoughts remain on the surface, together with the defined marks of the final image. On the way back to base: baggage precariously close to the plates, the copper is bruised by the movement of the travelling car, cold weather cracks the ground, the heat will let the block-out stick to my hands. – In the end it is both the travel and I, who create the marks, which will make the print of the journey.
Jörg Schmeisser 2010