bookartobject5 - overwintering 5

I have been part of bookartobject5 based around the the poems, journals and videos of poet John Bennett.

We were given his words and images and left to our own devices to create an artists' books that would be shown in an exhibition at the Coffs Harbour Regional Gallery over summer. We were in two groups and were to make enough to share with our group members as well as one for the poet and one for the exhibition.

I read through all the work and worked thru the imagery and there was just this small fragment that kept pulling me back.

A portion of a poem called overwintering 5, these were the words:

Ruddy Turnstones close on wind's compass bearing
beside circular depressions fashioned by stingrays,
the wind whistles the distance they own,
the sea is having its say in the next field.

I chose these words because the imagery was strong for me – the compass, the stingray memories in the sand, the wind whispering…

I also looked up Ruddy Turnstones and really liked the look them and how they go about their feeding by...turning over stones of course!

I really wanted to work across a range of processes to produce this book, and in the end I did. I created a collagraph plate to emboss the wrap-around cover which reflects the pebbles and stones that get ‘turned over’, and I created a solar plate etching to hint at the stingray’s marks in the sand. The words are hand set and hand printed in a tiny 8pt typeface, and the fragment of the poem is set on round pages, suggesting the compass points, which are also de-bossed by hand.

Sometimes I like to take words and be inspired by them to create something abstracted from them; at other times I like to re-produce and honour the words in a more specific interpretative way, and I chose this latter approach here. In the end, it is a small fragment of a book, with a fragment of words, yet somehow it is whole.

It is only 10cm x 10cm.  The cover wrap around is made of 160gsm paper.  The book is light as a bird.

The cover

the title page

I staged the words down the round pages, and if you look closely you can see the de-bossed compass points...

the colophon to finish

 some breathing space (there is also some at the start of the book but I don't have a photo!)

and the back cover.

A sweet wee thing.

Thursday Thoughts...

"Art is the concrete representation of our most subtle feelings". 

Agnes Martin

I imagine this is most certainly true for Agnes Martin's work.  Whatever she is representing it is subtle. It is not shouty, it does not appear angry, its isn't loud or obvious.

Oftentimes the closest one gets to understanding what some of her work may represent is the clues in the titles.

On a Clear Day, Praise, With My Back to the World, Faraway Love, I Love the Whole World...

Perhaps as well, what art can be is a way of making physical/concrete/visible, many of the things that are simply felt.  For some these feelings may be subtle, for others, not.

Detail of a tapestry in St Magnus' Cathedral in Kirkwall, Orkney.  A beautiful thing.


And the explanatory panel - the tapestry gives form to feelings...

Of pegs and threads and garden moments

So, it is go gently and quietly time - keeping an eye on the weather as the wind roars back and the temperatures soar.  No new fires below, but watchful eyes keep looking and checking.

I seem to be back to little bits of normal, which seems to be made up mostly of pottering.

I had ordered a bunch of old wooden pegs and they began to arrive last week.

Over on my Instagram page I wondered "what should the collective noun for old wooden pegs be...? and I got some fun answers.  I think my favourite so far is a pinch of pegs!

But the pegs then brought me back to winding threads again. A friend had been pickling beetroots and couldn't bear to toss the fabulous juice out and asked if I might want to use it - so of course I did.

Here are the threads straight out of the pot - all a bit dazzling and eye-popping.

But after rinsing and drying they have arrived back to the beautiful subtle tones of the other threads, and look quite at home on their pegs.

We have been observing lot of road work out the front and so yesterday afternoon went out around dusk to check out what was happening and lots of road had been cut up and removed and was to be replaced.

But it was the moment of walking along our path and looking up to see the moonrise, then turning my head to see the sunset at the same moment from the exact same place that made me stop with wonder.

Those moments, so unexpected, and yet so appreciated.  Moments of beauty and wonder and reminders of the way the world turns, the comforting assurance of days and nights and seasons.

We wandered past the avocado tree which is full. So full. I have never seen so much fruit beginning on it.  I think it must be the dry season we have had...

And to finish with a wish for safety for folk facing fires and for folk fighting fires.

Fire

I have been a way for a week, and returned home Saturday.

Sitting in Melbourne airport on Saturday I was talking to Barry as he prepared our place in response to a bushfire down below.  He was checking the generator, sorting out pumps, extending hoses.  Friends came around with extra hoses, friends offered to pick me up from the airport so Barry could stay and keep an eye on things and friends offered us a bed if we needed.  The emergency bag was packed and in the car, and the bath was filled with water.

It was no fun being so far away and unable to stand alongside as we worried about our place.

He did a grand job preparing to protect our home.

As I flew north from Melbourne I watched the firefront from Newcastle north.  It felt at times like every ridge was joined in fire and some were severe.  I wept as I read a story of how a nursing home in Noosa couldn't be evacuated, so police and firies formed a human shield around it through the night to keep the folk safe.

Clouds amongst the dense smoke.

I was collected and delivered home just after the wind had changed direction and taken the fire away and to the side of us.

Fortune.

The tension of the afternoon watching the fire, hearing the relentless waterbombing helicopters collect water, dump, return, and into the evening as the red line was ever present, has left me tired and not up to much creating; so I simply unpacked my bag, did some washing, put things away in the studio, folded some cards and got some thoughts together.  Not much creativity flows from anxious times.

This morning the fire had been dampened and the wind had dropped.

This afternoon the wind roared again and it took off once more - across grasslands towards us, but  then was stopped.  It's a stop start, up down, worry relax dance we have going on, but we are safe, unlike so many others.

There redline dance last night...

I am in awe of, and full of gratitude for, the front line fire fighters and the helicopter pilots who have kept us safe.  The fire remains active about 2km away from us and we remain on watch.  But we are safe.

Thursday Thoughts...

“The book was sent to me and because books and doors both need to be opened, I opened it. A book is a door; on the other side is somewhere else”. 

Jeannette Winterson

I like how this quotes suggests that Ms Winterson feels compelled to open a book.  If they arrive within her orbit, then they must be opened.

I am imagining that they don't just sit there piling up on a shelf or by the bed without having been glanced at, if not actually read.

I imagine a little rifle through; a glance at the opening lines; flicking pages and checking out some dialogue perhaps, scanning the chapter headings?  And then they may well go into a pile, but they must, at the very least, be opened.

I like that.

Clearly the symbolism is simply that they are openings.  That books, when opened, lead you somewhere else and what lies within them (as with a door what lies behind or beyond it) cannot be determined without opening it and moving through it.

Sadly, you can't absorb books by osmosis or by simply reading the back and front cover, although a times I have wished for just that!

Opening a book does indeed lead you somewhere...

I have always wanted to know where this door leads; what lies behind it...at Sandside Beach near Reay.

Some good news

Whilst we were away I received confirmation that the State Library had purchased two more of my artists' books for their collection.

Their collection is a prestigious one and I always feel honoured when they purchase my books - and in particular, it feels extra special when the books they purchase are special to me.

The two books were: Peace Emerging and I would have loved a sunburnt country.

These books were part of the Compassion exhibition at Nambour's Old Ambulance Station Gallery during June and July.

As ever, with official collections, selections are made at the time and then decisions are made about budgets and capacity to purchase, as well as alignment with the collection's goals etc.

So about 6 weeks after the show closed confirmation arrived.

On return I completed the paperwork for the books - for the record so to speak - as well as copyright licenses for the use of them and have sent them off, so it's all official now.

I would have loved a sunburnt country...

And one of my Peace Emerging...

In addition, Barry's Precious Library of Peace was purchased as well, so the two of us will be in the collection together which is rather wonderful!

I like that this means that anybody interested in peace or refugees or women book artists or whatever little quirk of interest might lead them to my books, can now arrange to visit and view them; hold them and handle them, at the State Library of Queensland.

And thanks very much to Ken and Ardleigh the convenors of the exhibition for all the hard work they did to promote and facilitate the purchase.

I still have to update my personal paperwork, CV and website, but all in good time...

Overwintering process

Of all the things I have done of late, this wee book is one of the ones that at first, looks like nothing much; yet I know how many processes went into it and how much I thought about them all and how hard I tried to get them to work subtly and without distracting from each other.

I hope at second glance some of this is apparent.

From the start, I wanted this to be a book where I tried to bring together a range of processes. I did that and I think/hope it worked.

I began back in January with the covers.

The words are about ruddy turnstones, the birds, and I loved the description of them turning over stones to forage for food beneath.  The cover is a simple, embossing, white on white. I prepared a collagraph plate and just never inked it.

The back ground of the pages references the indentations made in sand by sting rays.  I had seen these myself at Heron Island, and I converted some images to solar plates and worked hard to print subtly, in the colour of sand.

And then, the words themselves.  I knew I wanted it to be small book, that could be held in the hand - delicate if you will.  And I took possession of some tiny 8pt Granby Light type earlier in the year and thought that would work perfectly - the lines just fit across the pages.

The ink I mixed to be a ruddy/rusty colour to reference the birds.

Rather than putting a verse on a page, I chose to put one line on each page, which sort of encourages you to read the the book slowly, but also involves turning the pages, like turning the stones...

At some point in the process I decide the shape of the inside pages holding the words could be different. It could be circular like a compass, and then within the book, the words of the poem would be set apart and made special.

Of course working out how to cut a circle and leave enough to stitch through the gutter/spine meant a few trials!

Lastly I wanted to reference the compass marks of the poem and played around with inking and printing them; or using lead type and stamping them on by hand.  As ever, I ended up going for the subtle approach.  Perhaps its too subtle, but I stamped N, S, E and W on the circular pages in the position they are on a compass. One on each page as you move through the book.

I made sure to leave some breathing space pages between the cover and the words, and letterpress printed the colophon on the back of one page and we were done.

So despite its apparent simplicity it is a complex wee thing. My favourite kind of simplicity!

I shall post a bit more about the finished book once I am confident it has landed at its destinations across the country and the world.