Printmaking captures all my senses and responds to my need for
ritual. As I prepare to print, I enter a state of serene concentration.
Each gesture, repeated the same way many times in the past, has been
memorized by my body. As I dip the sponge into the basin of water to
wet my paper I feel close to the elements of nature. It has a cleansing
effect. The scent of Charbonnel ink in the air reminds me of where I
am and welcomes me to my printing session. Then there is the meditative
nature of creating colors, inking and wiping the plate, turning the
wheel of the press... culminated by the eternally magic moment of puling
the print off the press. I am a true addict.
The collagraph technique
(on cardboard plates), is how I express my inner world. I feel close to the material; I
love feeling the warm surface of the plate, ripping into the cardboard, and getting my
fingers into the acrylic gel medium as I collage elements. The flexible nature of
cardboard lends itself to spontaneous and direct work, and this lets me create freely,
without being preoccupied with technique.
My work deals with the cycles of life, the connection
between
mankind and nature, and their fragile
balancing act. Textures reminiscent of rupestral art, and
simplified human and animal forms, influenced by the art of
indigenous cultures, give a primitive aura to
my prints.
Fish
frozen in intricate woodcut textures, yearn to swim off the Arches paper.
Crooked houses stoically float in slow motion on black and white water.
Trees become people; arms reach up and branch out, feet firmly rooted
to nature. Moody tints of superimposed color envelope prehistoric horses.
A blood red turtle rests upon a human chest and inspires the title "Turtle
Heart". Within the cut out shape of a small body, flame red lines
trace the symbolic silhouette of a little girl. Heads floating like
helium filled balloons bounce from masses of deep ochre to jade green
clouds. Points of yellow peaking through shiny black ink outline a primitive
hand, reminiscent of a flame. A tiny figure rests in the palm of this
hand. These are a few of the scenes that pop into mind when I think
back over the years I have spent creating prints.
Agueda Pizarro Rayo, in a review of my 1992 solo
exhibition at the Rayo Museum in Colombia, wrote: "Talleen is able to see within
present space and time and travel to dimensions foreign to the majority of us. It is as if
her visionary eye opens roads, and then shapes caves in the air and filters the past, the
future and the present simultaneously... Talleen's prints reveal to us the cycles of life
and death. These are not dreams or fantasies of escapism, they are the revelations of a
wise woman, of a magician who has traveled within herself, into the infinity of
time".
The creative process fascinates me. I find it is a matter of "hunting
and gathering". The hunting involves a conscious seeking out of
inspiration or information, such as a trip, a museum visit, consultation
of books etc. The gathering is more the domain of the unconscious. It
is what happens on its own as a result of the hunting being filtered
through me. Sometimes
I can identify where the elements of my images come from. Sometimes it remains a
delightful and provocative mystery. I few years ago I made a monoprint of two figures
standing side by side against plains of brick red, dusty ochre, powdery green, and crispy
blue. At the time, this marked the beginning of a new palette for me. Some time later, I
spotted the exact same color combination in a slide I had taken while visiting the
Bolivian "altiplano". I had recently traveled in South America for five months
and realized that my senses had gathered a bank of new stimuli, which was gradually
becoming released and expressed in my prints.
Each new picture belongs to a code and sometimes the
sequence of images reveal a story... my story. A silent dialogue may take place: I create,
I observe what I have created, this creation reveals to me how I feel and how I will
proceed to create. When this happens I feel in tune with my art. Of course it does not
always go so smoothly. If it did it would not feel so exhilarating when it does finally
flow so naturally!
For the past two years I have been exploring the theme of the head.
This obsession grew naturally and started with the almost instinctual
desire to make round shapes. These heads are often made of transparent
plaster textures, superimposed on another color, thereby creating a
feeling of depth and looking inward. Eventually
I started including legible and illegible writing in these images... messages from within,
grafitti of the unconscious. In these works I have captivated and recorded sensations that
travel freely through my mind. The viewer deciphers these messages, the way some cultures
decode messages in fire and smoke.
I still am not sure why I am drawn to the head. Perhaps
it is my symbol for thought. Perhaps it is the artistic manifestation of the baby I gave
birth to last year. It remains an enigma that continues to taunt me.
I am currently working on a series of monoprints where I
pass collagraph plates and and pieces of collage through the press at the same time. Baby
handprints, child-like expressions peering from rocky textures, totems of faces from
prehistoric times arching upwards keep haunting and teasing me. The imagery is fertile and
with each new piece comes the contemplation of the next "episode" of a
never-ending story. It is this process of hunting and gathering that is so essential to my
spiritual survival.
Talleen Hacikyan lives in Montreal. She
works at the Atelier Circulaire and gives printmaking classes and workshops in several
schools and professional studios across Quebec. Her work is exhibited internationally and
she is currently preparing her next solo show. She is represented by galeries in Montreal,
Toronto and Ottawa.
The information resource
for printmakers 
Printmaking captures all my senses and responds to my need for
ritual. As I prepare to print, I enter a state of serene concentration.
Each gesture, repeated the same way many times in the past, has been
memorized by my body. As I dip the sponge into the basin of water to
wet my paper I feel close to the elements of nature. It has a cleansing
effect. The scent of Charbonnel ink in the air reminds me of where I
am and welcomes me to my printing session. Then there is the meditative
nature of creating colors, inking and wiping the plate, turning the
wheel of the press... culminated by the eternally magic moment of puling
the print off the press. I am a true addict.
Fish
frozen in intricate woodcut textures, yearn to swim off the Arches paper.
Crooked houses stoically float in slow motion on black and white water.
Trees become people; arms reach up and branch out, feet firmly rooted
to nature. Moody tints of superimposed color envelope prehistoric horses.
A blood red turtle rests upon a human chest and inspires the title "Turtle
Heart". Within the cut out shape of a small body, flame red lines
trace the symbolic silhouette of a little girl. Heads floating like
helium filled balloons bounce from masses of deep ochre to jade green
clouds. Points of yellow peaking through shiny black ink outline a primitive
hand, reminiscent of a flame. A tiny figure rests in the palm of this
hand. These are a few of the scenes that pop into mind when I think
back over the years I have spent creating prints.
The creative process fascinates me. I find it is a matter of "hunting
and gathering". The hunting involves a conscious seeking out of
inspiration or information, such as a trip, a museum visit, consultation
of books etc. The gathering is more the domain of the unconscious. It
is what happens on its own as a result of the hunting being filtered
through me. Sometimes
For the past two years I have been exploring the theme of the head.
This obsession grew naturally and started with the almost instinctual
desire to make round shapes. These heads are often made of transparent
plaster textures, superimposed on another color, thereby creating a
feeling of depth and looking inward. Eventually