Bottom line: Dorothy will lose her shit if she can’t use her hands. At (what used to be) home, that meant sewing, gardening, making, with all the tools and materials necessary to fulfill whatever mission the voices commanded.

Not so easy under our current lifestyle. She brought a sewing kit, but unless I’m willing to let her hem me repeatedly we need another solution. Thankfully, many of the places we’ll be going specialize in some sort of art or craft that can be learned. In the case of Oaxaca, a major regional art center, there are many art forms and many options. We started with a class on woodcut prints.

Mexico has a rich history of woodcut printing, going back to Posada and before, and Oaxaca has been a center of printing and graphic design for a very long time, with a specific bias towards political and protest art. If you don’t think you’re familiar with this style, you are.

Our class was at a local studio called Subterraneos. It was $500 Mexican for the two of us to take a four hour class taught in English, or about $12.50 each. There were five other students learning with us, so we weren’t alone. We were given homework, which was to come prepared with an image we wanted to use to create our woodcut.

Naturally, Dorothy drew something that looked like something, and I drew something that even a proud mother wouldn’t hang on her refrigerator. My goal was to do some kind of repeat that a) wasn’t representational, so couldn’t be wrong, and b) something that was just lines and didn’t require making, you know, shapes. The palsy must be respected. Palsy wrapped in mittens. Like a turducken of eye-hand uncoordination.

Class started with the teacher inspecting the drawings everyone had brought. She then picked up mine to show to everyone else. I wasn’t expecting to be called out for the excellence of my work, and I wasn’t disappointed. She explained that this was fine, but was too complicated to execute. My heart sank. I had literally drawn what I thought was the simplest thing I could carve out of wood, and if that was too complicated, I was just fucked.

Dorothy offered the kind of encouragement you’d offer a toddler who’d melt down unless they got that participation trophy. She suggested helpful ways the design could be simplified to make it more practical, and I shoved my board at her so she could draw it for me. I know when to redefine victory.

Eventually, she was able to hand it back to me and work on her own. Against all odds, we both wound up with drawings, ready to actually carve into wood.

Oddly, once I started carving I was fine. The drawing part made me want to vomit, but the carving was something I relaxed into. Other than making my delicate pink hands sore, I really had fun.

Et voila!

Now, time to go to press.

I’ve seen presses like this referred to online as etching presses, but they may have a more specific name. Their common adjective, however, is always either ancient or antique, which sounds about right. They couldn’t be simpler mechanically. You use a hand roller to apply black ink to the completed wood cut, and then place the plate face up on the press. You lay a piece of paper, we were using newsprint, gently down on the inked plate, and then carefully unroll the padded top so you don’t move the paper and smudge the ink. Then turn the big wheel to run the roller over the print, transferring the ink.

That’s it. Nothing left to do but admire your handiwork.