Cyanotypes are one of the key ways I want to evoke the feeling of being on the beach. Their beautiful blue tones conjure up an image of the sea, and the way they can be manipulated by the elements could create some interesting textures. My initial intention was to create different cyanotypes at different beaches, using things I found on location, such as seaweed and shells. I was interested to see if different sand composition of the beaches around Cornwall would create a different effect on the cyanotypes - the north coast has high cliffs and fine, golden sand, whereas the south coast is made up of shingle and coarser sand. A particular area of interest is around the Lizard, as the peninsula is formed from a section of oceanic crust that has risen out of the water and, as a result, has a unique geological makeup.
I had never done anything like this, so I went to Portreath to experiment. I knew that water would wash off the chemicals, so I played with a mixture of wet and dry sand. One thing I found particularly interesting was moving sand around partway through the exposure, which left spatterings of blue tones as well as white. I also ran some of the prints partially through a stream, washing away most of the chemicals except for small parts which I left to develop further.
The night before, I had prepared a 1m square of cotton and soaked it in the cyanotype chemicals. I partially buried this in the sand near the shore, with the intention of allowing the sea to wash over it partway through the exposure. Unfortunately, the ocean had other ideas, and a huge wave swept in and covered the entire sheet. I pulled it out of the water and saw that a lot of the colour had been washed out, but I decided to travel up the beach and continue to expose it, just to see what happened. Thankfully, enough of the chemicals had absorbed into the fibres to continue reacting with the sunlight, and after washing the almost-white sheet and allowing it to dry, it turned much darker and retained a medium-blue tie-dye effect. This was not the result I was hoping for, but it proved useful as it gave me a basis for working with fabric, which I later had success with.
I was keen to invite the audience to experience the beach, to feel the sand between their toes. In addition to the varying blue tones of the cyanotype, I wanted to find another way to introduce texture into the prints. After a slight mishap with a cyanotype-spill in my bathroom, and not realising that I had trodden in it, I woke up the next morning with a blue foot. This sparked an idea: I wondered what would happen if I painted the bottom of my feet with the chemicals and stepped onto the paper or fabric - I wasn't certain whether this footprint would deposit enough of the chemicals onto the sheet, and how well this would expose once it had dried. I was also conscious that I was coating my feet in potentially hazardous substances, but after research I found that most dangers were slight skin irritation, and I had noticed no adverse effects on my accidental blue foot. To be safe, I made sure I had a bowl of warm, soapy water to wash my foot after each print. Once the footprints had dried, I exposed them under my UV lamp, and they turned a wonderfully rich blue. Success!
On one of the last days before lockdown, I took two sheets of cyanotype-treated fabric (one fully processed cotton, one roughly processed calico) back to Portreath. I had previously printed and exposed footprints on both sheets, and painted chemicals onto the other two thirds, so one end would end up being deep blue, and the other a bright white or cream with blue footprints. My intention was to create an image similar to a wave crashing onto the sand, with a range of blue tones splashed around the middle of the fabric.
Being careful not to get too close to the sea this time, I covered both sheets in a mixture of damp and dry sand, with more wet sand piled onto the end I wanted to remain white, gradually changing into a light sprinkle of dry sand on the other side. Every few minutes I moved the sand around, exposing some parts of the sheet that were originally covered. After a while, I noticed that the fabric had changed from an acid green, to a tropical turquoise, to a dusty dark blue. Some patches had turned orange, which I found fascinating. I would like to continue experimenting with this, and see what happens over time if I don't wash the sheet - would it all turn orange eventually? What would happen if I only washed parts of the sheet? The idea of the art changing before your eyes is intriguing.
The photos below show the process before washing for the cotton sheet (bottom left), although I used the same process for the calico sheet (bottom right). The tones in the cotton sheet are far more varied, and due to the fabric being pure white, there is a higher level of contrast than in the calico sheet. I was hoping the natural cream colour and coarse texture of the calico would look more like sand, but the cotton print is much more striking. As I used heavy stones to weigh the corners of the sheets down, both prints have white corners - I'm not sure how I would counter this as the fabric needs to be weighed down to avoid blowing away in the wind. However, I don't dislike the white corners as they were created by using natural objects found on the beach. After ironing them, I will try to hang them on the wall and take some better photos of them.
Once lockdown had started, I was limited on the types of cyanotype I could make; I could no longer travel to different beaches to find out the effects of the geological makeup of different beaches. Instead, I chose to focus more on the texture of sand and water. I live in a first-floor flat with no garden, and the only outside space I had access to was the street's car park. I found an area that was tucked out of the way but still with decent sunlight. Last summer, I got married and decorated everything in a beach theme, so I had lots of starfish, shells and sand that I could use to create different designs and silhouettes.
My intention for the first two was to use both coarse and fine sand to create the effect of crashing waves on a1 paper, moving the sand around in the process as I did with the fabric. I also sprayed them with water, adding another element of texture. On the second sheet, I placed a few starfish to create silhouettes, although I did this too late in the day when the sun was not directly overhead. This distorted their shapes and created unwanted shadows.
The third cyanotype is my favourite of the three - I drew circles in the sand to create the impression of rippling water. Unfortunately, I misjudged the amount of time needed for exposure and this one ended up darker than I anticipated, although the dark tones still look quite beautiful. The blue photos below were all taken immediately after washing, so I will upload more photos of them once they have fully dried.
I could also create some small cyanotypes in my kitchen using my UV lamp. I did this in two batches, initially folding the paper in half and coating the right-hand side, exposing, washing, and drying, and then repeating the process on the other side of the paper. When put together, this created a book where all the left-hand pages are white, and all the right-hand pages are cyanotypes.
I played with a few different techniques and found that trickling small amounts of the course sand around the paper created an amazing texture - some particles were more opaque than others, resulting in a wide range of speckled blue tones. The fine sand gave a slightly more cloudy appearance to the cyanotype, evoking the image of mist or light sea foam.
Spraying the paper with water and allowing it to trickle down gave some interesting results. On one print, I coated the bottom with wet sand, knowing this would draw out the chemicals in that area. However, combined with the sprayed water at the top, this proved too effective and washed most of the print before it exposed. I ended up painting back over it and exposing it again when it was still slightly damp. This meant the chemicals spread through the paper fibres a little more, looking more like a watercolour painting, which was an interesting twist to the texture element I wanted to capture.
I also used some shells and starfish to incorporate more of the beach. While the starfish worked well and created a combination of defined and blurred silhouettes, the shells' outlines left vague silhouettes that looked more like discs. The shells themselves had texture, but their overall shape was more ambiguous, which is why I decided not to include these ones in the book.
To create my cyanotype book, I needed some binding materials. I wanted to make some hardback books, so I ordered plenty of greyboard, ivory book cloth, dark blue book cloth tape, and the tools I needed. For the main part of the cover I was hoping to use the ocean-blue oakwood paper that I'd ordered, as the pattern reminded me of swirling pools of water. Unfortunately, this was out of stock, and the company had sent the lavender paper instead. While this is beautiful paper, it doesn't suit the beach theme.
I then wondered if the ivory book cloth would be receptive to cyanotype chemicals, so I cut a small square, painted it, and exposed it with a starfish and a small sprinkle of sand on top. When I washed it, the backing paper ruffled up and began to split, almost like old leather. The cloth absorbed the chemicals a little too well and was difficult to wash out, and the end result was a dull starfish on a very grubby-looking piece of cloth.
After these two ideas didn't work out, I opted to bind the book primarily with the plain ivory cloth, with a strip of the dark blue book cloth tape to join the covers and create a spine. I used two different shades of blue for the end papers and bound the book together. The crafting knife I have is a little too blunt, so the edges of the book aren't completely straight. When I bind my beach photographs to match this book, I will have to take care to trim the new book with precision.
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