Eoin Warner is an Irish naturalist, author and award-winning wildlife documentary presenter. We worked with Eoin on his new book, Through the Long Grass, creating the illustrations that accompany his writing. This week Eoin Warner’s beautiful new book, is launched into the world. We were honoured when Eoin asked us to work with him on the book, and today we’re sharing some behind-the-scenes images and a reflection on how our illustrations developed once we began reading Eoin’s writing.
What is the way to the woods, how do you go there?
By climbing up through the six days' field,
kept in all the body's years, the body's
sorrow, weariness, and joy. By passing through
the narrow gate on the far side of that field
where the pasture grass of the body's life gives way
to the high, original standing of the trees.
By coming into the shadow, the shadow
of the grace of the strait way's ending,
the shadow of the mercy of light.
From Sabbaths 1985, V by Wendell Berry
Naturalist Eoin Warner is a wildlife documentary presenter in both the Irish and English languages and has presented some of Ireland’s foremost nature documentaries in recent years.
When Eoin first came to us late last year, he asked if we would work on the illustrations for a new book he was writing. He explained that he wanted the illustrations for the book to be lino carvings. He said he liked the simplicity and clarity of our lino print work. We were fans of his work, and so of course we agreed to his proposal. This was something I would later begin to regret...
Why? Because as Eoin began to send us the chapters from his book through to us, I began to appreciate that there was a vulnerability and delicacy in his writing. I could sense his care and attention to the smallest details of our natural world. And this was when I began to worry I could not match or convey this tone - especially working in lino.
Sometimes when I am working on a project in the studio, an idea or an insight comes to me as a shape, a form, an image, or a colour. Sometimes all I get is just a single word. In this instance, one single word came to me with complete clarity: and that was the word jewellery.
I don’t quite know where it came from, but one day as I sat carving a piece for the book - it came to me. Jewellery. I put down my lino carving tools and repeated it to myself. Jewellery.
I knew exactly what this meant.
Over our 11 o'clock coffee I explained to Gearoid what I now understood - I needed somehow to express the value and preciousness in the smallest details of the natural world— a tiny wren, a falling feather, a field of dangling harebells, a delicate empty bird nest. These small things needed to feel valuable, rich, precious, but also fragile. My illustrations needed to find a way to express something of the beauty and vulnerability of Eoin’s writing.
And this was where I was struggling with carving lino as a medium. Because as much as I love it, lino printing can sometimes feel a little like driving an old, heavy, slow vintage tractor. And there I was, caught in its ruts and ridges, while the sentiment of the book seemed to be full of movement, like the flowing water of a swollen river or wind rustling through an ancient woodland.
How was I ever going to make my heavy, resistant lino material and the publisher's black-on-white palette convey the movement of a feather falling through the sky, or the shy vulnerability of a baby hedgehog?
In the end, it came to me - the illustrations needed to be allowed to roam and decorate the pages. They should not sit centred and squared, orthogonal and certain. These creatures of nature should be allowed to dance and move across the pages — searching, seeking, sneaking, hovering, circling, dangling, growing, falling and flying — just as the natural world moves and breathes around us when we take the time to stand still and look closely.
I began to imagine the reader sitting peacefully with this beautiful book, turning a page and happening upon these shy but animated creatures crawling or flying across the white space. I wanted the turning of each page to an illustration to feel like that experience of turning over a large rock in nature and watching the ants underneath suddenly scuttle away.
By allowing the white space of the page to become part of the illustrations, we finally found a way to open a window and let more light and movement into the book. This also felt more resonant with the chapters themselves. Each contains a moment of magic with an unexpected interruption or encounter with an animal or bird in the wild.
Maybe lino printing wasn't the wrong medium after all. I began to appreciate the contrast of the heavy black lino shapes against the white of the page. Flying, hovering, crawling and sometimes, like the hare in a field at dusk, just staring right back at us.
Back in July, Eoin spent the day with us as we test-printed some of the book illustrations. Today we are delighted to share some of those moments with you as we celebrate the launch of Through the Long Grass.
