The Whispering Canyon of Santamera

The journey to Santamera was a pilgrimage of sorts, a departure from the urban decay that often fills my days. The road wound through the Spanish countryside, a tapestry of rolling hills and ancient stone. As I approached the village, the canyon carved by the salty river whispered secrets of the past, its echoes resonating with the stories of forgotten places I so often seek. The tranquility of this unique environment was a stark contrast to the gritty remnants of Soviet-era cities I usually explore.

Upon arrival, the village streets welcomed me with their rustic charm, each corner a testament to time’s gentle touch. The air was thick with the scent of history, a reminder of the countless souls who had walked these paths before me. It was here, amidst this serene backdrop, that I would delve into the world of artistic engraving, a craft as timeless as the stones that surrounded me.

The Dance of Drypoint and Ink

The linoleum carving course was held in a modest studio, its walls adorned with the works of those who had come before. The instructor, a master of the craft, guided us through the delicate dance of drypoint and ink. Each stroke of the tool was a whisper, a conversation between the artist and the medium. The process was meditative, a departure from the chaos of urban exploration.

As I carved into the linoleum, I felt a connection to the past, a kinship with the artisans who had practiced this craft for centuries. The ink, a la poupe, flowed like the river outside, filling the grooves with stories untold. The prints that emerged were more than mere images; they were echoes of the canyon’s whispers, captured on paper for eternity.

Echoes of a Forgotten Art

The course concluded with the creation of three prints, each a testament to the journey I had undertaken. The signature and numbering of each piece were rituals, a nod to the traditions of engraving. As I held the prints in my hands, I felt a sense of accomplishment, a reminder that even in the most unexpected places, beauty can be found.

Leaving Santamera, I carried with me not just the prints, but the whispers of the canyon, the stories of the stones, and the echoes of a forgotten art. This experience was a departure from my usual explorations, yet it resonated with the same themes of history and decay. In the quiet corners of the world, there are stories waiting to be told, and it is in these stories that we find the true essence of a place.