Printmaking

A series of collagraphs from my Dancing Queer History project.

Although John Playford didn’t include diagrams in The Dancing Master, many other choreographers and publishers attempted to translate dance instructions into visual forms. The most enduring strategy is known as Beauchamp-Feuillet notation, which used lines to indicate the dancer’s path, and symbols along the line to indicate their footwork. In these prints, I use a looser line and my own memory of dancing to create diagrams that live somewhere between indicative and impressionist, and which loosely trace changing dance aesthetics over time.

I’ve worked with Linda Game and several other musicians to interpret the Dancing Queer History preparatory sketches and collagraphs as graphic scores.

So You're Red - 2026-10-5
Betsy Branch, Linda Game, and Sue Songer

This ongoing series of monoprints is made by dancing specified social folk dance figures on dry pigments, including spices and powdered tempera paint. It is part of Dancing Queer History. Dancers chose figures and colours collaboratively.

A series of monoprints made by dancing on carbon and transfer papers. This work is part of Dancing Queer History.

Back in the printmaking studio in 2022, I began to explore distance and knowledge in relation to 18th-century scientific illustrations, connecting my background in biological illustration with my interest in 18th-century dance diagrams. Trainer, a short animated film, thematizes the reciprocal wear on the body as it marks the earth by walking, running, or dancing. The film was exhibited in the 2023 exhibition Wastework, curated by Ian Dawson, along with the original relief prints.

My grandmother died in 2007; I had lived with her, on and off, for a decade. While I was in college and graduate school in the United States she wrote to me regularly on distinctive blue airmail paper that was tissue-thin and carefully covered on both sides with her characteristic handwriting. Coincidentally, it was the same colour as the wheel on a mechanical infinity toy that I discovered in her home as a child. In 2009 I was on the cusp of moving, again, and found myself questioning the value of continuing to carry the large file of her letters with me, as they described only the mundane elements of her life. Selecting the specific fragments for each wheel, I saw those ordinary activities anew. I made this series of monoprint etchings at Crown Point Press in San Francisco.

I have a small collection of nesting dolls, which typically involve developmentally iterative designs. The master printers at Crown Point Press warned me that I was creating areas too small to ink à la poupée. I was committed to the technique, which references Cassatt’s maternal imagery as well as punning on the nesting dolls themselves. Using a q-tip as my “doll,” I managed it — and used successive ghost impressions to reflect on generational influence, loss, and growth.