Creating a gel plate print is a quiet, contemplative process. I start with color, shape, and texture, pressing paint onto thick, 300 lb cotton rag paper, and then lifting it off, never quite knowing exactly what will emerge. It’s in these moments of unpredictability that I find beauty — in the transparency of a layer, the slight misalignment of edges, and the way shapes interact with the negative space around them.
I’ve always been drawn to quiet geometry, where forms feel simple yet deliberate. The negative spaces between shapes are just as important as the shapes themselves — they create rhythm, movement, and pause. Sometimes, a soft edge emerges where paint didn’t fully transfer, or a layer shifts ever so slightly. These imperfections are not mistakes; they are the essence of the process, and they bring the work to life.
The idea of offset printing fascinates me. There is a subtle tension when elements are slightly “off” — a reminder that perfection isn’t the goal, but balance and harmony are. It’s this delicate offset, this small deviation, that gives each print its personality, its quiet energy, and its unique presence.
When I see a finished gel plate print, I notice the transparency, the layering, and the way positive and negative spaces converse with one another. Each piece is a small experiment in balance — a way of letting paint, paper, and chance work together, and a reminder that there is elegance in imperfection.