Meg Turner

Printmaker and photographer working out of New Orleans, Louisiana. Her practice spans prints, photography, and installation projects that respond to the landscape and the community she is part of.

In addition to her own work and contract printing, Meg serves as the master printer for local photogravure and wet collodion artist Josephine Sacabo. She founded the New Orleans Community Printshop and has since stepped back from a leadership position to focus on her studio practice.

She shoots primarily with a 4×5 Crown Graphic press camera, working in film and wet collodion.

A circular portrait embedded in a dramatic magenta-to-indigo gradient field, with deep black edges framing the composition

Hosting a community printmaking workshop that lasts

Printmaking has long lived in the communal space, from the working presses of early 20th-century union halls to the volunteer-run studios tucked behind pubs in inner Melbourne. Hosting a printmaking workshop today means more than laying out inks and rollers; it means opening a door to a craft that rewards patience, generosity and the occasional beautiful mistake. The first step is deciding whether the day will be a one-off taster or the start of something the neighbourhood returns to for years.

A solid workshop pulls in people who might never have picked up a baren or developed a negative. It also respects the time, money and creative trust of everyone who walks through the door. That respect shapes every decision that follows, from how you word your flyer to how you pour the coffee. The notes below draw on the rhythms of Australian community arts spaces, where groups have been quietly teaching etching, screen printing and lino to curious locals for decades.

Picking the right space and equipment

Venue choice in Australia is half logistics, half instinct. A garage behind a mate's place in Brunswick might suit a six-person lino day, while a community hall in Fremantle or a shared studio in Newtown calls for serious air flow. Whatever you choose, it needs natural light for reading plates, a solid trestle for the press, and a concrete or lino floor that can handle spilled ink without a tantrum. Test the space on a quiet arvo before you advertise, and make sure the press is bolted down.

Sourcing gear can be as simple as ringing a neighbouring studio. Many regional centres run equipment libraries, and metropolitan print rooms often lend rollers, exposure units and screens for the cost of a slab of beer. If you are starting from scratch, look at second-hand dealers; old letterpress drawers turn up at clearing auctions and make excellent drying racks. Build a kit list early, then halve it. A clean press, two rollers, good ventilation and a sharp Stanley knife will carry most beginner sessions.

Choosing a process that suits your crowd

Each printmaking method has its own mood, and matching that mood to your group is the difference between a sleepy Sunday and a buzzing room. Linocut is forgiving, cheap and tactile, which makes it perfect for kids and first-timers. Etching and aquatint need a fume cupboard, gloves and a calm pace, so save them for adult groups who have done a workshop before. Screen printing scales beautifully for a class of twelve; everyone walks out with a tote bag and a grin.

Australian workshop leaders often find that a mixed-process day works well: a brief demonstration of one method, a longer hands-on block, then a quick rotation to a second. This stops the room from stalling and lets people discover what they like without committing hours to something they hate. Be honest about the mess, the time and the cost of each process. Beginners will thank you for it, and seasoned artists will appreciate that you are not overselling.

Bringing people together and welcoming everyone

Recruitment in Australia usually runs on word of mouth, a flyer at the local library and a share in a few community Facebook groups. Post in arts council newsletters, drop a poster at the RSL and ask the local primary school if you can stick one on the noticeboard. The groups that often miss out on print workshops are people who have never seen themselves represented in the craft. Welcome notes in plain English, images of past participants and a clear Acknowledgement of Country at the top of your booking page all signal that the room is open.

Sliding-scale pricing is more than a nice idea in communities where income varies wildly from suburb to suburb. A few pay-what-you-can spots, a free place for a local elder or youth worker, and clear info about how to get there by train or bus remove the quiet barriers that stop people from showing up. If you are not sure what your neighbourhood can afford, ask. A quick text to a couple of regular attendees or a local arts officer will calibrate your scales better than any spreadsheet.

Budgeting, materials and sourcing like a local

Australian freight is famously expensive, so buy smart. Order paper from an East Coast supplier, ink from a single trusted brand in bulk, and source second-hand frames and lino off Gumtree and Marketplace. Dry and cured lino offcuts often appear free at community studios, and damaged screens are usually thrown out by the box. Build a list of three to four local suppliers, and keep their details somewhere you can find them mid-workshop when you run out of newsprint.

Don't underestimate the small stuff. Rollers need oil, surfaces need covering, and people need cups. Allocate roughly a third of your budget to consumables you cannot reuse, and a third to the artist or facilitator fee. The remaining third covers venue hire, a small contingency and a printed take-home for each participant. If you are running the workshop through the Australia Council or a state body, keep receipts and a simple attendance sheet. Auditors love a tidy folder, and so do future-you.

Running the day with calm hands

A good workshop has a gentle shape. Start with a cuppa and a yarn, set out the ground rules, and walk the group slowly through the first steps before you let anyone near the press. In Australia, an Acknowledgement of Country at the opening is more than polite; it is part of the cultural rhythm of any gathering, and it tells people they are entering a respectful space. Keep your own energy steady. Beginners take their lead from you, and a calm voice is the best press brake there is.

Break the day into thirds: demo, practice, share. Save a good half hour at the end for participants to talk about what they made, trade contact details and book the next session. Photograph the work with permission, and use those photos for your next flyer, your annual report and your website. A few well-lit shots of someone's first print will pull in twice the bookings next time around. To learn more about the artist behind these workshops, Meg Turner's bio is a good place to start.

Following up and building a real community

The workshop is not really over when the last person leaves. A follow-up email within 48 hours, a few photos of the prints, and a date for the next session are what turn a single event into a practice. A shared Instagram tag, a small printed zine of the day's work, or a monthly Sunday session in someone's shed will keep the momentum alive without burning anyone out. Think of the workshop as the first chapter, not the whole book.

Partnering with other artists and small presses makes the programme richer and the workload lighter. Cross-promote with screen printers, photographers and bookbinders, and offer your space for a swap day every few months. Australian print culture is generous; the right collaborators will bring their own audience and energy. For a model of how a working studio can support an artist's community practice, take a look at Gestalt Projects, a Brisbane-based studio that has long linked print, photography and installation in the local scene.

Practical recommendations for a smooth first workshop

Start sketching your own workshop today

If you are thinking about hosting your own printmaking workshop, the best thing to do right now is grab a notebook and sketch out the basics: date, place, process, audience and budget. Reach out to a local studio, a fellow artist or a community arts officer, and ask what they wish they had known before running their first session. The Australian print community is small, generous and genuinely keen to see another good workshop get off the ground. Drop a line, share a cup of tea, and the rest tends to fall into place.