Sunday I enjoyed a burst of creative energy. I made three books and a number of cards and printed a photograph as an experiment.
Yesterday, though, I managed only to price and label everything. Otherwise, I had no snap, partly because I spent an inordinate amount of time fretting about a poor Internet connection.Bursts of creative energy are energy-making, not just for the mind but for the body as well. If only I knew where they came from, I'd have them more often. With writing, the act of writing encourages more of the same. With reading, the act of reading encourages more of the same. But there is something about bookbinding -- perhaps the time-consuming nature of pulling materials together, perhaps the expense, perhaps the tentative nature of what will happen next -- that makes it difficult for me to have these bursts often.Sunday's lesson, however, invites me to the paper and boards. In fact, I think I'm headed that way now.
After the storm raced through yesterday, an art faculty member came by for tea. We chatted about folk art, books (she too loves Annie Dillard), and bookbinding. At one point, we were both on the floor studying papers in my makeshift studio.
She brought me a lovely little book wrapped with flocked paper and tied with silk ribbon. It inspires me to try a new approach to Coptic binding. Her first and last rows use kettle stitching, instead of repeating the chain pattern of the Coptic stitch. These simple stitches make a fine complement to the interior rows.
We also chatted about book design. Simplicity can be beauty, she agreed, when I commented that I prefer the most geometric and architectural details in my books. How lovely after the howling Lear-ish winds to meet and make a gentle new friend.
Today was reserved for rest and relaxation as I needed recovery from last night's harrowing drive back from Bell Buckle through blinding rain and hail after a foiled attempt to see The Tennessee Shakespeare Festival's first production (A Midsummer Night's Dream) at Webb. The play was canceled, and we headed out Highway 82, which was blocked by a fallen tree. That meant the long way home, and while I didn't have to drive (my SOL friend Jan did), I was still frightened out of my wits. So. Today has been easy. Some Wimbledon, some NYTimes, some pleasure reading, some bookbinding.
I laid out, printed, cut, folded, covered, and tied 10 miniature matchbox books: Sunday Fat Cats. While these are fun to make, I don't much like the box insert. I can't cover it because the paper would make it too thick to slide inside the top. I can't remake the insert because I don't have paper of the right weight. Bother. We shall see if the teens here for the Young Writers' Conference are interested in making small purchases at Shenanigans.
Yesterday, though, I managed only to price and label everything. Otherwise, I had no snap, partly because I spent an inordinate amount of time fretting about a poor Internet connection.
