Switching Off and Letting the Ink Speak
- Melanie Williams
- 1 day ago
- 2 min read
Today was one of those heavy, grey days—the kind where pain sits too close and too loud. When everything felt tight and difficult, I reached for something simple: my Gelli plate, acrylics, and the promise of losing myself in the process.
No plans. No pressure. Just switching off… and playing.
What emerged surprised me. A few prints, in monochrome, all moody, echoing the atmosphere of the day—but in a strangely grounding, expressive way. There’s something soothing about watching textures form where you didn’t expect them, about letting the brayer drag paint into accidental landscapes.
Print One: “Moon Over Tangles”
A soft, misty landscape in greys and deep charcoal tones. A pale circular shape—like a washed-out moon—floats in the upper left. Below it, dark branch-like lines weave and cross each other, creating a sense of tangled roots or driftwood. The background has a quiet, atmospheric haze, like fog settling over a shoreline at dusk.
This piece feels still, almost paused in time. A moment held between light and shadow.
Print Two: “Upward Pull”
This print has more vertical movement—tall, narrow lines rising upward like tree trunks or strands of something being pulled toward the sky. Around them, smaller branching shapes stretch outward as though reaching or searching. A faint circular mark echoes the “moon” motif from the first print, tying the pieces together. The overall effect is organic, raw, and quietly powerful.
Even on difficult days—especially on difficult days—there’s something healing in making marks without expectation. Letting the materials decide. Letting the mess be the message.
Art doesn’t fix pain, but it gives it somewhere to go.
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