By the dim fluorescent light of the printing lab, Alex Hook stands alone, brayer in hand, coaxing ink onto a carved wooden block. It’s after 8 p.m. on a weeknight and the rest of the Kamerick Art Building is empty — silent but for the eerie squeak of her roller and the low hum of the press. Fittingly, her art is about vampires.
Alex Hook, a studio art major at the University of Northern Iowa, is using the folklore of vampirism to explore themes of obsessive, destructive behavior. Her upcoming Bachelor of Fine Arts (BFA) exhibition — one of only two this semester — draws on these gothic creatures not just for their aesthetic, but for their metaphorical power.
As part of the BFA program at UNI, graduating seniors curate and install their own solo shows in the Kamerick Art Building gallery. Hook’s show will be on display Dec. 9-18 during finals week.
Hook says the inspiration for her theme came unexpectedly.
“I always knew I wanted to explore obsessive-compulsive behavior in my work, but I struggled with how to approach it,” she said. “Then I was watching a bunch of video essays on vampires, and I was like, ‘I love vampires!’”
From there, the connection clicked. She found parallels in the irrational compulsions embedded in vampire folklore — like the need to count spilled grains of salt, or being unable to enter a home without an explicit invitation.
“Much of the folklore had no rhyme or reason,” she said. “But that’s what made it so interesting.”
Her artwork draws not only on visual cues like deep reds and sharp angles, but also on the animalistic, shape-shifting nature of vampires. One woodcut print in particular depicts a monstrous, misshapen canine — an echo of the myth that vampires can turn into wolves and other beasts.
The piece is just one of many that required hours of hands-on labor in the printmaking studio.
The process starts with Hook mixing her own lithography ink — a careful blend of setswell, cobalt drier and raw lithography ink. The formula has to be just right; too thick and it won’t transfer properly. And with limited department resources, every ounce counts.
She spreads the ink in a thin layer across a glass pane using a brayer — a handheld roller made of vulcanized rubber.
“You know you’re done when it sounds like sizzling bacon,” she said.
The glass not only helps create an even coat of ink but also makes cleaning easier. In a lab where most surfaces are covered in mismatched splotches of dried paint, the stainless lithography station is one of the few places where messes can’t be hidden.
On this late evening, Hook works alone. The brayer squeals under pressure as she rolls ink onto the woodcut.
“This worries me,” she said, frowning at the sound. “I don’t know that this is going to print.”
Still, she continues. She layers a sheet of printing paper on top of the inked woodblock, then sandwiches it between cardboard and a wool blanket to protect both the paper and the block. The whole stack is fed through a hand-cranked press, its massive steel roller applying intense pressure to transfer the image.
The result, however, is disappointing. As she peels back the layers, the print appears faint and scattered — more like a static-filled TV screen than the image she had in mind.
But Hook takes it in stride. Each print requires several trial runs — usually four to six — before she settles on the ideal pressure and ink consistency. This failed print joins a growing collection of dog-shaped creatures in her studio, just down the hall from the lab.
“Just this past Saturday, I spent five to six hours in the studio,” she said. “I’m trying to get those numbers up.”
