More from the Desktop
The first datebook I ever made for myself was really just a tall journal with blank pages. Each page was a list. Once I ran out of room on one page, I would transfer the parts of the list that had yet to be completed and crossed off, and that still seemed important, and started again until I finished the next page. I did have a lot of deadlines, so it worked well. I like lists a lot. i subdivide lists into other lists. But the chance to reevaluate is important. To cut loose what is unnecessary, to re-prioritize. This might be what is so appealing about the idea of a new year. I know that January 1st is an arbitrary date to choose to start over, and check in, but it works for me, as I stay in a little more, have a little more slow time, and anyway my other favorite time to do this--my birthday--is nearly 6 months away from January 1st. So here are more things I saw this year that I wanted to share, other things people made that are inspiring and important and beautiful.
Catching up with the passing year
My desktop is covered in photos I was saving to share, stories I meant to tell. The end of the year is like this, sifting though all the things that seemed important or had potential, trying to remember what we saw in them. So here we are.
Home again on a night as someone offered me a ticket out but I've just been so tired. End of the year slight sickness and balancing going out and staying in, sharing and saving for yourself.
So here are some nice things other people made. Now I am going to sleep. And then tomorrow I will get back to work.
Where You From?
With everything that has been going on in Ferguson and in cities all over the country, it has been hard to sit and write about zines and postcards. I've been watching the news, reading, and trying to find constructive things to say. And sometimes I've just been angry and sad. But the work to do in this country is ongoing and so while it becomes less in the forefront in my mind, I work to keep these struggles part of my every day conversation, while talking about the things I make too.
When I moved to Baton Rouge, LA six years ago, I was struck by how many people I met who were from Louisiana, from Baton Rouge and other smaller towns. I had been living in big cities most of my life, leaving my home state at 20 and even then, I had moved twice within that state. I become interested in the ideas about why people leave their home towns and why they stay. I wanted to explore the benefits of leaving a place when you've outgrown it and the benefit of staying rooted in one place. In 2 issues, I asked friends and acquaintances, many from Louisiana, to write about their experiences. This comprised the first 2 issues of Where you from?
Then 2 years ago I moved to Oakland after spending 6 months in Italy. I had a bunch of ideas to connect, from traveling with my sister in Sicily, talking with my grandmother about her parents home towns in Sicily, moving out west with my partner, who had lived in Baton Rouge his whole life. I thought I would have a new zine soon--I've sketched out a huge project in my head, with maps and letterpress printing and so the project is still just ideas. I got so stuck on that project that it's been years since I've made a new issue. So here it is.
I wanted to make a zine with the instant book form because it offers a great structure for telling two sides of a story. And it meant I could letterpress print some for fun while still digitally printing affordable copies. I chose to write about leaving places I've lived and returning.
It was harder than I realized to write these. When I was done, I slept for a week and they sat on my computer, waiting to be turned into files to become plastic plates to print. They are short, and the form thwarts my proclivity for run on sentences. But here it is: one sheet of paper, ten stories. Mostly about New Hampshire and New Orleans. One or two you may have heard before , maybe not. but now they are in print in a copy that fits in your pocket.
*****Did you want a copy? They are all available in my etsy store and if you live in the Bay Area, I'll be at the EBABZ this Saturday with a table full of stuff. And if you want to hear me read from it along with a bunch of other great zine writers including artnoose, come to the EBABZ reading this Thursday here. Phew.
Take care of each other ok?
Seashells by the Seashore
Between a new computer, which subsequently crashed, and a tendency to hold onto any scrap that might inform later, I found these photos om my desktop. About a year and a half ago, a friend drove us to Muir Beach for the day, for the first cold swim of the season. We discovered that the beach adjacent to the famous forest is packed, even on an overcast day in May. The trick is to hang out on the corner of the beach with nudists. No kids, no families, plenty of wet sand and rocks to explore. After a brief swim that was so cold I gasped, we walked up and down the beach. There is something appealing about many tiny things that make up something larger. I've been holding onto these photos waiting for the story, decided to share them without a story and, as I have been writing this, thought if what I might use them for. For now, enjoy.
New Orleans Without Color
I brought a camera to New Orleans, I even checked the batteries before I packed it. And then it stayed in my bag for my entire visit. Most of the time, I wanted to just be with my friends, ride around, not answer the phone, not check my email. Aside from arranging meet-up times with busy friends, mostly it worked.
My first day in town, my friend Matt Runkle made a facebook challenge. Normally I ignore these, I duck in the internet corners so I don't get picked. But this one was about posting five black and white photos in five days. It was a challenge I was willing to participate in. I love color photos. Phone cameras and apps have improved, making it easier and easier to take lovely square images. I used to own a poloroid camera . The colors and instananeos nature of poloroid was appealing. Also the physical photo that emerged, to be tucked into a notebook, or glued to a journal cover. With all the instagram fanciness, it was nice to focus on composition with the same instant results. I took a few photos that didn't work in black and white, but here are the five I chose. I posted them on facebook but I thought they were nice all together. Maybe I will start taking more.
city adventure
sutro baths from the bottom
Most every day I would print or bind books or bake treats but luckiliy sometimes Andy reminds me to leave the house. A few weeks ago, we had a friend's car so we drove across the bay bridge and across the city all the way to the ocean. One amazing thing about California is the way they maintain so much of the coast as public land through national parks. You can be in San Francisco proper, not too far from the Golden Gate Bridge, walk to the ocean. We explored the ruins of Sutro baths, a former public bath house. You may not yet be aware of my love of swimming. More accurately, I enjoy soaking. I like lakes, oceans, public baths, hot springs and my giant clawfoot bathtub. Sutro baths burned down in the sixties, but you can still explore the ruins, listen to the tide crash through the pools, and buy 50 cent post cards. Sometimes you can go see punk shows in the caves, but the day we were there, we only witnessed an awkward german couple and a SF photographer taking boring photos of young women in bikinis.
you can still buy these postcards. i already sent mine to a friend.
When you get tired of balancing on concrete ruins between pools of green water, you can hike to Land's End, see where part of Harold and Maude was filmed and see the ocean and the bay from a few amazing different points of view. We sat and watched the fog for a while. I was rooting for it to swallow the whole bridge but mostly what happened is that I sat still for a while, which almost never happens. Not bad for a a day out of the studio.
i might not swim in that anymore
fog eating the bridge (photo by andy)
looking out from the cave (photo by andy)
this could be a movie set. wait...
paper makers and print makers unite!
detail of a tapestry at magnolia editions
The Friends of Dard Hunter and the American Printing History Association had their annual meeting as joint gathering this time. That means about 150 printers and handmade paper artists met in San Francisco to talk about the ways their crafts work with each other. As a letterpress printer who makes her own paper whenever she can, this was like a nerdy dream weekend for me.
First, I knew I would see former classmates from Louisiana, May Babcock and Megan Singleton. May is now based in Providence and curates the blog paperslurry, an incredible resource of paper making ideas, technical advice, interviews, profiles and process information. Megan was on her way home, in a pane-trip-out-of the-way sort of manner, after a residency at Great Sand Dunes National Park.
experiments with ink to resemble touche at magnolia editions
There was much to talk about and see, including a talk from Howard and Kathryn Clark, the retired dynamo of Twin Rocker Papers. They told stories about the history of Twin Rocker, and how they grew. I heard a panel about the different uses of handmade paper in artist's books, explored the Internet Archive, and saw an exhibition of work by members of APHA and the FDH.
Even if you don't know much about paper or print, you could see why getting all these artists and crafts people together for 4 days was exciting. My favorite stop was 8 blocks from my home in West Oakland--Magnolia Editions. They work with artists to create fine art reproductions based on the need of the arttist. Their work is incredible and varied--ceramic tiles of Chuck Close's work for the New York subways, box edition prints of Squeak Carnwath's paintings, tapestries and a 3D printer creating complicated watermarks.
By dinner on Saturday we were tired, and excited, full of ideas and a pocketful of business cards. Luckliy, I thought to bring examples of the Keep Writing Project and have some new penpals so I will be able to keep in touch with new friends.
book by squeak carnwath at magnolia editions