Welcome to World Cyanotype Day

Deep blue, see?

Sir John Herschel’s first cyanotype, 1842

Sometimes, if a thing doesn’t exist and you think your life, or the world, would be a better place with the thing in it, you just have to make the thing yourself. Which is what a group of enthusiasts did in 2015 when they discovered World Cyanotype Day didn’t exist. db Dennis Waltrip and her collaborator, the late Judy Sherrod, created a community on social media and in person where artists and photographers could get together and share their work.

But what is a cyanotype? If you have only a nodding acquaintance of the process, let me explain.

A cyanotype is a contact photographic printing process. Paper is treated with a solution of ferric ammonium citrate (or ferric ammonium oxalate) and potassium cyanide and left to dry in a light-tight environment. When exposed to UV light, the treated paper will develop a deep blue, or cyan colour. Placing an object onto the paper blocks the UV rays; if UV light cannot reach the paper, it will remain white (assuming white paper has been used). The print is then washed in plain water, dried and left under a heavy weight for a few days to flatten it. Simple.

The process was discovered in 1842 by Sir John Herschel, a polymath chemist, mathematician, astronomer and all round boffin, after experimenting with the interaction of UV light on iron compounds. However, it was botanist Anna Atkins who popularised the process by using cyanotypes to illustrate her book, Photographs of British Algae; Cyanotype Impressions (1843), which is known as the first photobook.

A print from Anna Atkins’ Photographs of British Algae: Cyanotype Impressions (1843)

In a world where digital photography is quick and cheap, why create cyanotypes? The process can be messy, time consuming and expensive, and downright inconvenient without access to a darkroom, or a light-proof room in which to prepare the paper. I know this from experience. My favourite hoody has a permanent blue splotch on it; the drops of solution that landed on my feet washed away a couple of days later. There’s a lot of trial and error when determining exposure times. Getting it wrong means precious paper and solution is wasted.

Cyanotypes are fascinating for the same reasons that some people love film cameras, or classic cars or vinyl records; the respect for the medium helps to keep it alive, and its proponents are innovators, creating solutions to overcome common challenges. Instead of having to answer some questions from His Majesty’s Constabulary as to why there are gallons of a cyanide-based solution in the shed, cyanotype kits can be bought cheaply online. No access to a darkroom? Never fear, the company that bought you an A4 sized UV lamp so you can create beautiful prints even when the sun refuses to shine (hello, UK!), will also sell you packets of pre-treated paper, for when the sun does decide to shine, but maybe for only an hour, and you absolutely have to make a print right now, but don’t have time to treat the paper and allow it to dry.

Experimentation with toning is a satisfying aspect of the cyanotype process. Once a print is dried, it is placed in a bleaching solution to dissolve some of the iron compounds in the paper. Once bleached, then the party really starts! Tannin-rich organic matter, like tea or tree bark, are used to create a bath for the print to soak in. Toning reduces the intensity of the cyan, whilst changing the colour profile to a rich chocolate brown or golden yellow. How strong the solutions are made and the length of time the print luxuriates in the bath depends on the outcome the artist wishes to achieve, though there are guidelines to follow to make the endeavour a little less frustrating. Mastered printing on paper? Then why not experiment with printing on glass, or fabric?

Phytoplankton, (2017) Inga Lisa Middleton

Cyanotype printing is over 180 years old and the allure isn’t going away any time soon. A quick check on Instagram shows 578,000 results using the cyanotype hashtag [20/09/2023]. Several contemporary artists have made captivating projects from cyanotype prints. Inga Lisa Middleton’s Phytoplankton series highlights environmental concerns, and Inês Ambrósio connects her love of surfing with the process in Back to the Blues. I’ll throw in my own self portraits, from a series on the invisibility of black women.

Self portrait experiments

Watching the print come to life in the sunshine will always be a thrill, as is having the finished print in my hands, a thrill I don’t get with digital photography. I’m not hating on digital here; I still enjoy it but there’s something lacking. Having that physical connection to a thing I made is becoming more important to me. Despite the spilt solutions, weak sunlight, over-exposed and under-exposed prints, the too-vigourously washed prints and the accidentally torn prints (not me, but a family member who shall remain nameless), I’ll still continue to create these beautiful prints as long as I still have working hands and access to UV light.

Do you create cyanotypes or do you use alternative processes in your work? Let me know, I‘d love to hear from you.

Thanks for reading

elle