‘It’s only paper’ is something that I say to my students on a fairly regular basis; at least to the ones who are reluctant to commit pen to paper or paper to woodblock. However, here in Japan, paper is never really only paper. Paper here has significance from the architectural to the spiritual and perhaps the most important paper of all is washi.

Without plunging too deep into the science, washi is more akin to fabric than paper. Consisting of a tangle of long bark fibres, usually mulberry (kozo), it is phenomenally strong and remains so when wet (forget about advertising claims for kitchen towels which, trust me, are as tin foil to sheet steel in comparison). It is this strength and good natured love of the damp that makes it the perfect paper for water based Japanese woodblock.

As with all things, there’s a catch. Washi paper production is not easy. Hand made washi production even less so: it’s a brutal and demanding process. Bark has to be harvested, steamed, stripped, cleaned, picked over, beaten, mixed, formed and so forth. Mostly this seems to happen in the bitter cold, the only relief being the opportunity for a scalding when steaming the bark from the stems. It’s a huge tribute to the paper makers of Japan that there are still small concerns producing washi by hand among the more industrialised makers. One antidote to this hardship is the importing of bark fibres from China and Thailand where others get the chilly job of harvesting and processing. Except it’s not so chilly. Warmer climates means faster growth and softer fibres, changing the nature of the paper itself.

Throughout this residency I have been printing on a wide variety of marvellous hand-made washi papers. They bring a luminosity to the print: the pigments entering the fibre itself and becoming one with the paper. I’m under no illusions: I won’t be able to get anything approaching this quality and weight of paper in the UK. Not yet anyway. But it doesn’t have to be like that. In 2014 there will be a Washi Fair at the International Mokuhanga Print Conference. I hope to encourage a UK paper stockist to visit with me to see beyond the small range of papers now available in the UK and to help in the ongoing work to support washi paper makers and to create a stable, affordable supply of these excellent printmaking papers for the future.

When it comes to my prints, I feel pretty much the same as Quentin Crisp: ‘there’s no greater sign of love than somebody prepared to pay money’. He may have other things in mind, but it’s a valid thought. I know we are, as artists, supposed to live for higher things than cash (which would be nice if we could also be spared boring details like broken boilers, council tax and the need to eat), but the fact a stranger can be so delighted by the way I have arranged ink on paper that they’ll happily give me their money does tend to do it for me.

Pricing art is a really difficult one; there are all sorts of methods out there ranging from complicated algorithms to a price per inch guide for painters. I try to keep my work at a price that reflects the size of the work and the complexity of production, while remaining affordable. Gauging the affordable bit I do in food: the price of a curry, pizza and coke for the family, anniversary meal, anniversary meal when you’ve forgotten the anniversary etc. The public don’t always see it that way: nearly every artist has a show story where their prices have been questioned by Joe Public only too happy to blow almost the same amount in lunch, beer and ice cream in the next tent (not that we’re bitter…).

So, having decided on keeping my prices affordable, the other hurdle is the difference between selling work myself and selling it through galleries who, in my opinion, quite reasonably want their cut. After some trial and error I’ve decided there’s only one sensible solution for me. If a picture costs a curry for four with a couple of pints of Kingfisher each and an unnecessary kulfi, then that’s what I’ll be asking if you buy from me, the internet or in a gallery.

So there you have it, one artist’s view on pricing. It may be simplistic and I may not reap huge rewards as a consequence, but it keeps things fair and me able to sleep. I’ll shortly be adding prices to my prints on the web site (at the moment you have to mail me to ask) and you can do your own conversions – motorbike parts maybe or tickets to assorted Olympic events?