ah, the blessed sense of accomplishment that comes when you..
..actually finish something..erm.
ahem.
ladies and gentlemen, tonight, i have successfully bound a book.
it’s not my first, by any means, but it is the largest one i have ever attempted..
(you know, that just didn’t sound right, did it? you have a dirty mind!)
anyhow, i am feeling quite proud of myself..there’s something very fulfilling about taking some paper and cardboard and canvas and glue and string and oh yes, a dremel
and ending up with a fully functional and attractive book!
i love bookbinding- it’s so archaic and crafty..i love that i taught myself how to do this lost art, and that i will never have to buy another imperfect journal or address book ever again. i revel in thick sheets of creamy paper, in the tools of my trade- my awl, my bone folder, my beeswax and archival paste..i get rather fetishistic about fine papers, decorative bindings, inks and quilled writing instruments..scriptura is my frederick’s of hollywood..it’s impossible to not spend money in that place- on lovely pens or italian paste that smells of bitter almonds, or moleskine sketchbooks, mmm..
the third annual bookshow is looming, and although the book itself has been constructed,
the process of filling it with all manner of cabaret revoltaire madness lies before me yet..
i need a printer, dammit, desperately..and i need manifestos galore.
i’ll post some pretty pictures as soon as i get it filled out with some dada-licious content..for now i have a hot date with some evil fairytales and my pillow..