The Quiet World of Intaglio — Motoko Chikamatsu, Etching Light

Intaglio is the trace of a quiet pressure

An intaglio print is made by inking a copper plate and pressing it onto paper.

It's different from "printing." A press machine applies direct, strong pressure to the paper.
The roller turns, and the ink in the carved grooves of the plate sinks into the paper's fibres.

Once printed, turn the paper over and you'll see a small indent.
It's the proof that the plate was firmly pressed into the paper.

This "trace of pressure" is unique to intaglio.
You can't tell from a screen, but touch the paper and you'll feel its surface is three-dimensionally changed.

Holding the real thing, you know — "this isn't a print." Before the colour or the imagery, the texture of the paper carries the weight of the piece.

Drawing, printing, for days and days

Etching, aquatint, mezzotint — intaglio has many techniques.

Lines scratched directly with a needle (drypoint).
Surfaces corroded with acid (etching).
Fine grain like pointillism or mist (aquatint).
Deep velvet blacks (mezzotint).

Each creates a different expression. Even all called "intaglio," the textures differ greatly between techniques.

Finishing one piece takes days, sometimes weeks.
Time spent waiting for corrosion, repeated test prints, time letting the work rest.

"Waiting" is built into the process of intaglio.
You can't make it quickly. Time is properly carved into each piece.

And many "failures" too.
Looking at a test print and redoing the lines. Redoing the acid bath.
Many sheets of paper, never becoming finished works, are discarded.

The completed piece stands on a mountain of those failures.

Intaglio is a craft over 500 years old

Intaglio is said to have originated in 15th-century Europe.
For over 500 years, people have followed nearly the same process: carving copper, pressing it into paper.

Rembrandt's 17th-century intaglio and intaglio made in Japan today are technically nearly identical.
Press machines have improved. Acid handling has become safer. But the foundation hasn't changed.

Things that last 500 years carry a quiet strength, just by their persistence.
They exist in a different flow of time than smartphone photos.

"Lasts a long time" comes from this.
A piece made with 500-year-old technique will likely stay in your home for decades to come.

Motoko Chikamatsu's "light"

Intaglio printmaker Motoko Chikamatsu has long worked with "light" as her subject.

"Light" transforms into different images within me,
and now, the very act of "living through daily life" has become "light."

So she says.

Her works are filled with motifs that float softly — like cells, like plants, like stars.
Not dramatic scenes, not famous landscapes, not special moments.

She carves the "light" inside everyday life into copper, over many days.
Standing before a finished work, you can sense that time, quietly held on the paper.

Chikamatsu was born in 1965, in Kobe.
After studying printmaking at art school, she's continued making intaglio prints ever since.
Many solo and group exhibitions, year after year.

To bring such an artist's "light" into your room —
that's a small overlap between 500 years of technique, one artist's life, and your daily living.

The quiet behind the paper

Seen on a screen, intaglio prints might look modest.
No flashy colours. No strong contrast.

Glancing on a phone and thinking "hmm, plain" — then closing the tab. That's only natural.

But hung in a real room, there's a mysterious presence.
Up close, you see the paper's undulation, the subtle gradations of ink, the borders of the impression, faint shadows.
At certain angles, light catches it differently, and the expression changes.

Morning light, noon light, evening light, night lamps —
each shows the painting a different face.

A beauty that doesn't claim the spotlight. That might be what makes intaglio.
The kind of beauty that "isn't loud, but you want to keep looking, every day."

One of only five in the world

Intaglio prints have an "edition" system.

You decide upfront how many will be printed from one plate. If it's "5/5," only five exist in the world.
Each is printed by hand by the artist, and signed with the edition number in pencil at the edge.

The numbers "2/5" or "3/5" mean: the second or third of five.
No two are perfectly identical. Ink density, paper fibre, humidity on the printing day — tiny differences remain in each.

A stillness that mass production can't create lives inside intaglio.
It comes naturally from waiting, from hand traces, and from limited numbers.

ARTiATE carries Motoko Chikamatsu's intaglio prints.
You might not "get it" looking at the screen.

Still, if a piece catches your eye —
that's probably your one.

To find a piece you can call "I don't know. But I like it." — that's a quiet blessing, I think.