JAZMINA CININAS

Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’,
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’,
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’,
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’,
Deadline!

Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’,
Keep them presses rollin',
Gotta meet my loomin’
Deadline
 
I’ll keep the wheel a’turnin’
The midnight oil a’burnin’
A hundred hours after my bedtime
 
Thank god for ghost editions
To minimise impressions
The rest can wait for some other time
 
Ink ‘em up, roll ‘em up
Print ‘em up, stack ‘em up
Clean ‘em up, sign ‘em up,
Deadline
 
Mount ‘em up, frame ‘em up,
Bump ‘em in, line ‘em up,
Hang ‘em up, open up,
Deadline
 
I’m done procrastinatin’
The gallery’s a’waitin’
Director like a thorn in my side
 
Enough with the curation
Approve the invitation
Gotta make the framer by five
 
Finalise the placement
Update my artist statement
Socials are good to go online
 
Ink ‘em up, roll ‘em up
Print ‘em up, stack ‘em up
Clean ‘em up, sign ‘em up,
Deadline
 
Mount ‘em up, frame ‘em up,
Line ‘em up, hang ‘em up,
Open up, bottoms up!
Deadline.

Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’,
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’,
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’,
Gotta meet my loomin'
Deadline

Deadline!
 
 Ned Washington (lyrics), Dimitri Tiomkin (music). Rawhide, 1958

Crack that lid!
Brand new tin of black
Ink up a plate.
Clear the drying rack

If you haven't etched enough,
You must dip it
If your edges are too rough
Gonna rip it
If the lid just won’t come off
You must grip it

Now slip it, into place
Line it up, get it straight
Roll forward on the bed
Pull back the blanket, check your plate
Now rip it, rip it up

When the masking tape is long,
You must snip it
If the pressure's over strong
Gonna rip it

I say rip it, rip it up
I say rip it, rip it up

Crack that lid!
Brand new tin of black
Ink up a plate.
Clear the drying rack.

When the lino comes your way
Time to chip it
Gotta face a certain way?
Better flip it
Mustn't put the screen away
Until you strip it

Got my opening today
Gonna kick it
With a fancy chardonnay
Gonna sip it
You got nothing nice to say?
Better zip it

Now slip it into place
Line it up, get it straight
Roll forward on the bed
Pull back the blanket, check your plate
Now slip it into place
Ink it up, get it straight
Roll forward on the bed
Pull back the blanket. Dodgy state?
Then rip it, rip it up

Gerald Casale & Mark Allen Mothersbaugh (Devo), Whip it, 1980.

The devils are lurking and the gremlins are smirking
In the printmaking workshop tonight
There’s a cut in my paper and a tear in the blanket
Think the pressure might be over-tight
My ink is looking spare,
Is that another hair?
Still searching for the backing sheets
I’m down on my tarlatan, running outta rags
Oh, I swear I’m like a hot plate, turned up to eleven
Starting to overheat
 
Goin’ crazy tryin’a make a print where every little thing
Is pure and good and right
But before I edition, need a lot more precision,
The right amount of dark and light
But I’m filling with doubt, registration is out,
The image could be better drawn,
So I gotta keep proofing, gotta get it together
If I’m counting the flaws
I’ve barely just begun
 
Like a B.A.T. out of hell
Every print I’ve been pulling is wrong
I’m making micro-adjustments but whatever I’m doing is
Wrong, wrong, wrong
Like a B.A.T. out of hell
Every print I’ve been pulling is wrong
When the blanket’s down
And the wheel’s gone round
And I’m holding my last proof
Then like a sinner before the gates of heaven
I’ll be ripping up this one too
 
I’m gonna hit the presses like a battering ram
I’m determined, gonna get it right
Trying every plate in every orientation
And bumping up the opaque white
But nothing here to show, still no good to go
And every proof has bitten the dust
And nothing’s printing up and nothing’s lining up
And nothing’s looking worth the fuss
 
I’ve added in a little smidge of ultramarine,
Tried a little cobalt too.
But I’d rather be damned, you know I’m gonna be damned
If I’m adding in the Prussian blue
Well, I’d rather be damned, you know I’m gonna be damned,
If I’m adding in the Prussian blue
Well, I’d rather be damned, you know I’m gonna be damned,
Rather be damned, you know I’m gonna be damned,
Rather be damned, you know I’m gonna be damned,
If I’m adding in the Prussian,
Adding in the Prussian,
Adding in the Prussian blue
 
Goin’ crazy tryin’a make a print where every little thing
Is pure and good and right
But before I edition, need a lot more precision
The right amount of dark and light
Still having my doubts, registration is out,
My image looking pretty forlorn,
So I gotta keep proofing till I get it together
Gotta sort out the flaws
Before I see the sun
 
Like a B.A.T. out of hell
Every print I’ve been pulling is wrong
I’m making micro-adjustments but whatever I’m doing is
Wrong, wrong, wrong
Like a B.A.T. out of hell
Every print I’ve been pulling is wrong
When the blanket’s down
And the wheel’s gone round
And I’m holding my last proof
Then like a sinner before the gates of heaven
I’ll be ripping up this one too

Then like a sinner before the gates of heaven
I’ll be ripping up this one too
 
Well, I can see myself, tearing out my hair
After
Peeling back to find another dud
And I’ve under-etched and I’ve over-wiped
And invented fifty-seven ways to make another mistake
But I still can't pull a good proof
And I keep on messing up the order that I print my plates
 
And I keep on messing up the order that I print my plates
 
And I’m down to the bottom of my 55981
Torn my paper, every single last sheet is gone
But I think somebody somewhere must have cast a spell
Cause the last proof I pull is a thing
Of beauty
It’s a print of perfection, in every way
It’s a hellava B.A.T.
 
And I’m scraping the bottom of my 55981
Torn my paper, every single last sheet is gone
But I think somebody somewhere must have cast a spell
Cause the last proof I pull is a thing
Of beauty, of beauty
It’s a print of perfection, in every way
It’s a hellava B.A.T.
Oh, it’s a hellava B.A.T.
Oh, it’s a hellava B.A.T.
Oh, like a B.A.T. out of hell (As I’m watching the morning, watching the morning dawn)
Oh, like a B.A.T. out of hell (As I’m watching the morning, watching the morning dawn)
Oh, like a B.A.T. out of hell

Meatloaf & Jim Steinman, Bat Out of Hell, 1977

E Am C7

Sometimes, there’s a voice in your head
Says you gotta get out, somewhere better instead
It’s time to print, you’re just not able
You need more space, you need more tables
In a workshop in a mud brick town
With gums and wallabies all around
Roller on ink the only sound
In a studio in a mud brick town
 
Last stop on the Hurstbridge Line
I’m heading out to Baldessin
Last stop on the Hurstbridge Line
I’m heading out to
 
F.                      Bb  C7   F
Baldessin, oh Baldessin,
F                        F7              Bb        Gm7 
I can hear Tess Edwards calling
C7    F.                           Bb.      Bb Am Gm
Silvi sets the presses rolling
C.           Dm
Get my printing done
Here at
 
Baldessin
 
Saturday market, chattering voices
So many chais so many choices
Classic? Spice? Mug? Pot?
Which one have you got?
Have you had it, do you drink it
If so, how often
Which do you choose
The cow or soy option?
(The cow or soy?)
 
Last stop on the Hurstbridge Line
I’m heading out to Baldessin
Last stop on the Hurstbridge Line
I’m heading out to
 
Baldessin, oh Baldessin,
Got a workshop to be doing
Silvi gets the coffee brewin’
Crank up the Albion
Here at
 
Baldessin
Baldessin
 
Aaaaa…
Aaaaa…
Aaaaa…
Aaaaa…
 A.                                       B.      A.         B
And it’s always been my fantasy
C#m                                         B.             A
Win a fellowship from the State Library
A                                B             E
Saving money with my own sheets
                    B.       A
In a garret in the sun
Here at
​D Eb E
Baldessin
 
Barbie Kjar is bringing it home
Mokulito on wood not stone
Photogravure’s
Not just a fad
Check out Lloyd’s bromilliads
Holy Moses! A kangaroo!
Drop my pizza from a Boy Named Sue
(with double vegan cheese!)
 
Last stop on the Hurstbridge Line
I’m heading out to Baldessin
Last stop on the Hurstbridge Line
I’m heading out to
 
Baldessin, oh Baldessin,
Where I feel the Enjay sighing
Where my latest prints are drying
                    Dm             C.                Bb.          Am.       Gm
Where the ghost of George still walks among the gums
​Gm A D
At Baldessin
 
At Baldessin

 

Neil Tennant & Chris Lowe (Pet Shop Boys), West End Girls, 1986
Jimmy Webb (for Glen Campbell), Galveston, 1969

Etienne, Sophie, Julie & Jazmina, Ladies

Good to pull
Good to pull
 
Ow! Ready!
Ooh, Bon à Tirer, Bon à Tirer
Ooh, Bon à Tirer, bo-Bon à Tirer
Good to pull
Get it like this
Good to pull
Want it like this
 
Ow! B.A.T!
Press Gangster here
P, P, P, P P Press Gangster here
P-P-P-P, P Press Gangster here
Press Gangster, Press Gangster, Press Gangster here
Press Gang-sters  Press Gangster here
 
Now, now, now, wait a minute y'all
This ain't no place for premature editions
Only the good to pull
So all you print mothers, get your proofs into gear 
Yeah, get good to go
 
Press Gangsters here, we’re stopping the press
Don’t want no second best
Sort out your etches and grooves, you gotta pass the test
C’mon, we’re takin it slow till you show
You’ve met the standards of the artist and you’re good to go
 
Now proof it
Bon à Tirer
Yeah, B.A.T.
Bon à Tirer French for good to pull
Bon à Tirer  lookin’ good
Bon à Tirer  It’s lookin’ real good
Ow!
Lookin’ good
Ooh, Bon à Tirer, Bon à Tirer
Ooh, Bon à Tirer, ba-Bon à Tirer
 
Yo, yo, yo, yo, printing tech
Yeah, you! There's no need to resist
If French aint your thing choose RTP from the list
It’s short for Ready to Print, Still means that it’s looking good
Now print it
Cause it’s lookin’ good
It's looking real good
 
Get it like this
Want it like this
Print it like this
Print it!
 
Boy! Enough of all this proofin’
I’m good to go
Let’s get those presses rolling
Bon à Tirer
Bon à Tirer
Bon à Tirer
Ba-Bon à Tirer
 
Boy! Enough of all this proofin’
I’m good to go
Get my edition flowin’
Bon à Tirer
Bon à Tirer
Bon à Tirer
Ba-Bon à Tirer
 
Ah
P-P-P-Print it, Print it
Print it
P-P-P-Print it, Print it
Print it

Hurby Azor & Ray Davies (for Salt 'N' Pepa), Push it, 1987

Don’t know which way the cards will fall
Rolling up, in black
Or wiping it back?
 
Can’t figure out which way to go
Relief prints or intaglio?
 
Gamblin? Graphic Chemicals?
Cranfield? Charbonelle? Speedball?
Water-based or oil-based?
Oil-based or water-based?
 
Can’t figure out which way to go
Multi-plate or monochrome?
 
I can’t decide which end I prefer
The scraper or the burnisher?
 
Positive or negative?
Negative or positive?
Schminke? Caligo? Speedball?
Derivan? Graphic Chemicals?
 
Don’t know which way the cards will fall
Rolling up, in black
Or wiping it back?
 
I can’t decide which end I prefer
The scraper or the burnisher?
 
Cranfield? Graphic Chemicals?
Gamblin? Charbonelle? Speedball?
Water-based or oil-based?
Oil-based or water-based?

The Breeders, Cannonball, 1993

*Lyrics by Martin King

​Up and down
Through and through
Corridors of art school
Every day I make my way
Down the corridors of art school

I wanted to study at RMIT
Call came through, yeah, they wanted me
Now I’m heading down to Orientation Week
Riding high on the number 1
Down Swanston Street

Up and down
Through and through
Corridors of art school
Every day I make my way
Down the corridors of art school

Now I really just don’t know what to do
Can’t print, can’t paint, can’t draw
like I thought I could
But the feel of Charbonnel
Is driving me on
I'm Gamblin I’ll graduate before too long

Got my BA
Now I’m on my way
Got my BA
Now I’m on my way
 
 
Grant McLennan (Go Betweens), Streets of Your Town, 1988

Rocking, flick of the wrist yeah
Rocking, there isn't a trick yeah
Rocking, won't happen by magic
Baby
You can never do enough of it
 
Rocking, forwards and back, keep
Bm
rocking, for velvety blacks oh
E                     Db
Baby, I’ve just gotta keep a’rocking it
F#                                 B
Don’t stop a’rocking it now
 
Don’t stop the rocking,
gotta keep a’rocking,
don’t stop a’rocking now
 
F#
I have never been shy
Dbm
When it comes to intaglio
                                            Amb
Thought I’d give it a try  
 
E                               Ebm            D
All day rocking from left to right
E                               Ebm                   Db  B  Db
Rocking diagonally overnight
E                               Ebm          
Top to bottom through a new sun rise
            Dbm             B                   A                  B
Then start again, start again, start again
 
Oh Baby
Rocking, in every direction
Rocking, cross every section
‘Till I, get zero reflection
Then I
I get to do it all again
 
 
Rocking, all night and all day now
Rocking, in every which way
God damn it, still only prints grey
When will I
Get to start burnishing?
Wanna start burnishing now
 
Don’t stop the rocking
Just gotta keep a’rocking
Never stop a’rocking, now
 
I really wanted to see
A glorious chiaroscuro
But it wasn’t to be
 
I got tennis elbow and I’m going blind
Pins and needles down my left side
Scoliosis and RSI
At twenty-five, twenty-five, twenty-five
 
Oh Baby
Maybe, this wasn’t so clever
Feels like, I’ve been rocking for ever
Now I, wish that I’d never
Started
Oh I should have aquatinted it
 
Stuff this, I’m calling it quits
I’ve had it, and I can’t feel my wrists
From rocking, whose idea was this?
Oh baby,
I blame Graeme Peebles
I blame Graeme Peebles
 
Rocking, wish I knew the trick of
Rocking, it's really the pits yeah
Rocking, it’s mezzotint madness
Baby
And I blame Graeme Peebles
I blame Graeme Peebles I do
 
So sick of rocking,
Had enough of rocking
I never wanna rock again
 
Björn Ulvaeus & Benny Anderson, Rock Me, 1974

Ah, wash out!
Release, the grease
Wash out!
Ah, wash out!
Release, the grease
Wash out!
 
We’re here to get down with planography
Been around since the eighteenth century
In the Kingdom of Bavaria
Lived Alois Senefelder
Outta paper, so he wrote it on a stone
And voila! Lithography was born
Hydrophobic!
Yeah hydrophilic too
Immiscibility is gonna rule!
 
Ah, wash out!
Release, the grease
Wash out!
 
Got my stone, gonna grind it down
Levigator, spinning all around
I’ll level it, with 80 grit
Time to get intimate with the graining sink
Feel the pressure, testing for a wedge
Eliminating hollows, filing down the edge
Waxy crayon! Look out oily tousche
Grab the gum arabic, I’m cutting loose!
 
Ah, wash out!
Release, the grease
Wash out!
 
Release!
 
Yeah, release!
 
The grease!
 
Oil and water were never meant to mix
Hope the theory holds or else I’m in a fix
Three Hail Marys! Can you feel the fear?
Washed my image out. Oh God, please reappear!
Lube up the tympan, lower down the bar
Got my sponge, got my nitric in a jar
Ease the pressure! Don’t want my stone to crack
Done my second etch. No turning back!
 
Ah, wash out!
Release, the grease
Wash out!
Ah, wash out!
Release, the grease
Wash out!

Chic, Le freak, 1978

(I’m) ready for editioning, editioning
Gotta get it over the line, you know? But
Someone’s left a mess again, a mess again
Studio is covered in grime all over
 
Never clean it up, what a grot! Ink all over the blanket
Missed a spot, gettin’ hot
Under the collar now
 
Why, why? My, my, my, wooh!
M-m-m-mucky roller
 
When I open up the ink, why is it pink?
Looking like the scene of a crime. You know,
There’s something with a mighty stink, beneath the sink
The universe is sending a sign, to go
 
You never clean it up, such a grot, ink all over the blanket
Missed a spot, gettin’ hot
Under the collar now
 
Why, why? My, my, my, Wooh!
M-m-m-mucky roller
M-m-m-mucky roller
 
Lead break
 
Can’t read the label on the tin, even a hint
Underneath a layer of green, all over
You’d reckon that it was a sin, to use a bin
Where the hell’s this spatula been,
Moreover?
 
Never clean it up, such a grot,
Ink all over the blanket
Missed a spot, gettin’ hot
Under the collar now

Why, why, why, why why? Wooh!
M-m-m-m-m-m-m-my, my, my, my my, Wooh!,
M-m-m-mucky roller
M-m-m-mucky roller
M-m-m-mucky roller
M-m-m-mucky roller
 
Ooooh, Why? Mucky roller
Ooooh, Why? Mucky roller
Ooooh, Why? Mucky roller

Berton Averre & Doug Fieger (The Knack), My Sharona, 1979