The sky has been serving quite the show of celestial wonders. Just last weekend, thanks to a particularly strong solar storm, the aurora borealis was visible unusually far south, including here in central Iowa. Unfortunately, my timing was off and I missed sighting the mystical light show. I felt a different sort of FOMO then, the funk of missing out.
But there’s a version of sun-powered magic that you can make yourself on any given day: the cyanotype, also known as a sunprint.
Some ten years ago or so, I — erm, I mean the Easter Bunny — put a couple of sunprint kits in my kids’ Easter baskets. They were patently uninterested and/or I was impatiently excited about it, and I ended up spending a joyfully obsessive Sunday afternoon gathering bloodroot leaves and squill blossoms and evergreen needle tassels and Lego figures, laying them out on little squares of light-reactive paper, and making dozens of indigo silhouette prints on our back steps.
These are the bare basics of how it works. The paper is treated with chemicals that react and turn blue when exposed to sunlight; the areas of the paper you cover with something aren’t exposed and so stay white. Transparent objects or those sitting slightly above the paper will create interesting shades between white and blue; solid, opaque objects produce starker white silhouettes. Unlike the chemical baths needed for modern film photography, the only thing you need to develop and fix these prints is plain old water.
A couple years ago, I tucked a sunprint kit into my luggage for a trip to the Bay Area. I was inspired by a colleague who introduced me to Anna Atkins (a 19th century English naturalist credited with publishing the first book illustrated with photographic images—cyanotypes of algae) and the contemporary artist Meghann Riepenhoff (who captures sand and waves and seaweed as they wash over cyanotype paper). I toted my little light-safe envelope of paper out to Muir Beach to create impromptu, lo-fi snapshots of seaweed and kelp, beach pebbles and rattlesnake grass. Like Riepenhoff, I let the tide itself rinse the exposed paper. My results were nowhere near as stunning as hers, but the endeavor was fun as hell. 10 out of 10, would do again.
If you, too, feel wistful over missing out on recent space happenings, I recommend a cheap packet of sunprint paper and a little backyard art therapy.
Happy weekend.
PS: Athens, Georgia-based photographer Rinne Allen, whom I’ve had the pleasure to know and work with over the years, creates beautiful cyanotypes, which she terms light drawings. Check out her work here.
PPS: The New York Public Library holds a copy of Atkins’ original book, and you can view the digitized pages online or view examples in the permanent collection exhibit at their flagship building on Fifth Avenue.
I'm into this for the names of the things you're printing alone! Also: cyanotype is a great word.
This is it! You’ve given me the inspiration for a unique birthday gift for my great niece’s upcoming 5th birthday. She loves creating all manner of artwork. A Sunprint Kit will be a great addition to her art media. (Jennifer, I’ll introduce her to the word cyanotype. I agree with you about the cool factor.)
Love your twist on FOMO! That acronym needed a past tense modification.