This was a fun print, and it was a lot of fun walking you through the process.



"Buffalo Greyhound" 2018 Jeffrey Dean
Reduction woodcut, image 9"x7", Renaissance Graphic oil ink on Masa paper, 10 colors printed from a single shina plywood block, pulled on an antique cast iron book press and hand spoon-fed. Edition TBD

Almost Home

One last color will finish the job. This building, which still stands in the 600 block of Main St. in downtown Buffalo, opened as the Greyhound Bus Lines station in 1941. Designed by William S. Arrasmith, a St. Louis-based architect who designed hundreds of stations for the company, the station was operational until the 1970s. After a stint as a police station, the building, in the center of Buffalo's Theater District, now houses the Alleyway Theater.

I first noticed the building many years ago as I took the subway down Main St, probably returning from Buffalo State College. The rounded windows, curved edges and stainless steel stripe across the canopy, along with the blue tiles, suggested that it was a little too retro to be authentic, and I assumed, up until fairly recently, that it was a 1980s homage to art deco. But authentic it is, and I'm glad that it has kept most of it's charm. As you can see, the canopy, which I'm told was neon-lit, extended up ward and included a tlied sign for the company. The sign doesn't show well here, and it has long since disappeared, but the scar where it attached to the building next door is still visible.

Lost & Found

There is no shortage of songs about the love of the American highway. It's in our DNA, whether we were born here, came here or long to be here. Often the songs that celebrate the freedom of the open road take a melancholy bent at some point. Because the open road, as exciting and mythical as it can be, is also fraught with fear and loneliness, and very often travel leads one to take in the unexplored expanses, uncharted roads, and dark alleys of the heart.

One of the finest lyrics to define this ache of self-exploration amidst the thrill of exploration comes in Simon & Garfunkel's "America":

"Kathy, I'm lost", I said,
Though I knew she was sleeping.
"I'm empty and aching and
I don't know why."