Johnson, C.

C. Johnson never signed a single print—maybe because she was too busy running a tavern by the Thames where artists swapped sketches for ale. She carved her scenes on beech blocks at night, inking the same thick lines over and over until the wooden plate cracked. Hunt down the H Beard Print Collection; look for the crowd outside the old Cock & Pie tavern—every face is slightly crooked, as if the drinkers had been holding their laughter too long.