Emergent Artist Portaits by Bárbara Victoria

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Maker of Prints

By Barbara Victoria


I am pleased by how crooked your bangs are and by the way your occupation translates into “Maker of Prints” -”Hacedora de Impresiones”, in a Spanish that I will define as Dutch, because of the conciseness of its communicative intention. I feel that it invites me to crush something with force, in a sort of therapy to remedy.     “I must go to the Maker of Prints, so that she can calibrate my choroids”, one would hear in town. You arrange your patients on the press bed and inject washable ink through their eyelids. If the sclera becomes inflamed you insert acrylic sheets into the armpits, and by the temperature of the sweat you achieve a diagnosis. How magnificently relieved one returns to their abode after a visit to the Maker of Prints!


You are a Chicago glass block collector. Who could imagine? Such a specific passion. I felt flattered when I went to your studio and you noticed that the pale pink color of my blouse was the same color as the one you were printing on dozens of squares. The blouse was my mother’s and originally white. Ahhh! The turns of life! By the way, I’m glad you got the inks for twenty percent off. I’ll note the motif to toast with vermouth, which I know you drink with olives in extravagant amounts.


I want to tell you I find it fascinating the way that just below your bangs one could find two eyes that are still hard to read. And let me tell you, I know the literature of contemplation. But, if you are genuine and nostalgic that is printed on the third ring of your iris. And for that, my dear, there is no remedy that rescues. It must be due to the facets of your craft as the Maker of Prints. And because of your technique of blindly drawn edges. Before I forget! It turned out really pretty that photo of the house at the foot of the mountain in Santander, the one that is floating over your desk. By any chance, did you notice that the house and its mountain are also hiding behind a wall? Pure photographic coincidences.


Maker of Prints, what happened to your left pupil? I can understand the right one very well, every time I walk through the dining room and spy your profile from the door of your studio; door that lacks a glass and lets me observe you without interference. You do not notice when I watch you because you have your headphones on. What are you listening to? We have not talked about music yet, although I must have mentioned Maria Minerva since her music video California Scheming has a lot to do with your Chicago glass collection. Sorry for the intrusion, but what led you to hang that poster of “Printing area only”? That emphasis on “only” intrigues me. Have you had any bad territorial experience? You would be the first person I know with such trauma. I’m glad you have a well-defined vocation and that the things on your desk are just as clear. A jewelery box with traces of pencils, two immaculate brayers and a piece of a green water mosaic. Maybe I should observe more of these things so that I can get to know what I am missing from your left eye. I do not know if you have noticed, but today you made two clear manifests: “I wanted to see if I was ready to imitate the computer.” And then: “I seek to do it entirely with my hands.” It is healthy to have precise ideas. Does it have anything to do with your Basque heritage?


I greatly appreciate your hospitality that night in which I found refuge in your cabin, I understand how sensitive you are to interior spaces. Your company made me feel stronger in the face of Ignacio’s ghost, the annoying poor man. Sorry if I made noise, it’s just that every time I turned off the light, I felt Ignacio approaching and I could see his face with more and more definition. He is white and blond, with crow’s feet and anger. It is a relief to know that you are a deep sleeper and that you were not affected by my nocturnal spasms that lasted until three in the morning. I noticed on that occasion that your desk was empty, something that I also found easy to read. Fidelity to experience is a difficult process to understand.

Maker of Prints, did you find the answer you were looking for? In my experience, no. What melts is the ice. Now I ask, what was the lady in the picture drinking? The lady does seem annoyed like Ignacio, without offending the rings of your eyes. Likewise, I flatter your birds and chilli pepper lights.


Finally, I must be honest, I have never felt such happiness as I did that time when you threw a peach in my face. The gesture reminded me of my grandfather’s tenderness, and helped me to understand that there are common trails between Cranbury and Algarrobo, whose routes should be printed somewhere, under the ceilings of this house.

El Bruc, 2017