Below: “Inkstone (Green)”  Indian and watercolour inks applied using dip pen (with Brause nib) on paper. 630 mm x 495 mm (framed). 2005. £650 framed.

Below: “Crystalline (Rock)”  Indian and watercolour inks applied using dip pen (with Brause nib) on paper. 630 mm x 495 mm. 2002. NFS.

Below: “Inkstone (Brown)”  Indian and watercolour inks applied using dip pen (with Brause nib) on paper. 630 mm x 495 mm (framed). 2005. £650 framed.

Below: “Crystalline (Bead)”  Drawing pen, Indian ink and coloured pencil on paper. 630 mm x 495 mm. 2005. £400 unframed.

Below: “Inkstone (Red 1)”  Indian and watercolour inks applied using dip pen (with Brause nib) on paper. 630 mm x 495 mm (framed). 2005. £650 framed.

Below: “Inkstone (Yellow)”  Indian and watercolour inks applied using dip pen (with Brause nib) on paper. 430 mm x 300 mm. 2008. NFS.

ABOUT THE “INKSTONES” SERIES 

“Ink Stone” depicts an imagined, idealised kind of ‘rock’. It was extracted from my mind and shaped by the pressure in my hand.

“Ink Stone” belongs to a series of works each beginning with an outline derived from a snapshot of a geological sample. Over that initial outline I then draw with watercolour ink and a dip pen. The pen nib I use is unconventional - it can score five lines in a single stroke. The nib is actually intended for drawing lines for sheet music, but with the correct twist of the wrist or turn of hand it can produce something apparently three dimensional. Colour is the last element to be applied (with a fine brush) and the choice of hue is both instinctive and associative. Brown like soil, say, or a bold, bright jewel-hue.

I do not know at the outset what shape will transpire as I pull my pen over the paper ground, nor do I try to predict. What crystallises does so slowly, naturally, before my eyes.  The final ‘stone’ takes many pages of studies to perfect. The long process of ink-based evolution is very meditative; trying on each consecutive page to learn how best to rake my stylus to evoke a sense of shape, weight, mass. Each study helps to hone the ‘stone’. The hope of refinement lures me on.

I think of this ‘stone’ like a jewel, gem or lunar specimen encased in a museum cabinet. Here it sits, embedded, isolated, captured, presented for scrutiny within the sterile boundaries of the picture frame. It might be a phenomenon too other-worldly for our fingers. It may never crystallise sufficiently for manual handling, but it can charm the eye and fuel the imagination nonetheless.

Corinne Noble