Sunrise, Sunset, and the “Efficient Laziness”

This year, I started experimenting with lino-cutting. I wanted to work with my hands, to feel the physical resistance of the material, and to experience the printing process directly.

But as soon as I carved my first plate and made a few prints (not these ones), a “plan” appeared in my mind. I realized I could use a single block to create a multi-frame narrative: the same printed image could repeat in every frame, while another element moves through them.

I have to confess—this idea probably came from laziness. Isn’t that a contradiction? I want to work with my hands, and at the same time, I want to be efficient.

The first moving element that came to me felt natural: the sun. It is the largest thing I experience moving across my world every day. And what could remain unchanged in every frame? Without doubt, the mountains.

Initially, I planned a five-frame sequence: the sun slowly rising from the left, climbing over the mountains, and eventually setting on the right.

After printing two five-frame versions—using one plate to repeat the landscape and then hand-painting the sun in each frame—I realized something: I could also reduce it to just two frames.

The five frames exaggerate slowness. They insist on duration.
The two frames feel more philosophical. Everything in between is implied. 

I am very happy with both results.