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May 2004

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5-1-04  I am a totally frustrated papermaker, and today pointed up just how frustrated.  But perhaps I should back up and explain the source of the problem.  Last year I committed to writing and hand binding 100 copies of a swatch book based on last year's papermaking.  So during the 2003 season, I pulled between six and seven thousand swatches from the plants I was working with; during the winter I wrote, formatted, decided on a binding and printed galleys.  After these were edited (thank you MJ and Peter); I began binding.  Now I'm beginning to see the proverbial end-of-tunnel light.  The binding part of the process should be finished in the next few weeks.  Don't misunderstand.  I've thoroughly enjoyed doing this.  However...during the time that I have been binding the book, the weather has warmed.  The world of plants outside has sprung to life and each and every one of them out there is calling, begging to be made into paper and I can't go play until I finish this book.  (If confessing my frustration this way sounds corny, perhaps that attests to the level of annoyance I feel at being forced to stay inside during the most beautiful season of the year.)  Today I both gave in...then came back to my bookbinding senses.  To explain...  Every Saturday the Kentucky Artisan Center hosts demonstrations by various artisans, and I have made it a habit to go out and shoot digitals.  As I was leaving the Center this morning, I noticed the curly dock stalks alongside the parking lot had shot up and were nearly four feet tall, just at their prime for papermaking.  Arrggghhh!  I couldn't resist.  I turned around, went back in and asked permission, then came out and cut a huge armload of the stalks.  Oh, heaven!  But between the Artisan Center and home, I came back to my senses.  I simply didn't have time to chop, cook and process the stalks into pulp.  I want to get this book out of the way before I get back into papermaking.  Given my set up for working, bookbinding and making paper are more or less mutually exclusive hobbies.  The water involved in paper isn't compatible with the need for dry working conditions for books.  So, scratch the curly dock.  I emailed a friend in Arizona, who doesn't have access to these plants, and offered them to her.

5-10-04  I am mulling a potential problem.  I have counted the swatches I pulled last year for the books that I am binding, and have culled any that I consider imperfect.  In theory, and we all know how theories go, I have enough plus a few for the 100 books...except for one swatch.  Of that one, I have exactly enough.  What happens if, in the process of binding, I make a mistake with that particular set of swatches?  What if one blows away in the breeze?  What happens if I miscounted?  (You realize after writing that last sentence, I went back and recounted.)  Can you tell I'm becoming paranoid?

5-13-04  I ran into a bad batch of the commercial paper I am using for the book, so binding has ground to a halt.  Those sheets were scarred and dented by the mechanism that secured them for cutting at the factory.  Not a good thing for my purpose.  I called the source and they're more than willing to replace them, but the order won't be here until Friday.  Perhaps this is for the best.  The Kentucky Guild Spring Fair begins tomorrow and I'll be doing volunteer work there.  Too, I do need to take time to design a book webpage that I will post on this site when the book is ready for release.

5-16-04  Yesterday (Saturday) was interesting, especially for this particular craft fair, which is notorious for of drawing rain.  (Locally, only the foolhardy farmers plan on plowing or cutting hay during the week of the Fair.)  And yes, Saturday it did rain...everywhere but at the Guild Fair.  North, east, south, west...torrential rains, but not a drop on the park full of exhibitors.  Weird.  One of the features of this Spring Fair was the International tent that featured a Japanese tea ceremony, origami, information on Berea's sister city, Kiyosato, and a Japanese lamp artist, Tommy Ejiri.  He creates various size lamps using strips of kozo.  The largest lamp was especially striking.

5-22-04  7:15 PM....I just finished the binding on A Papermaker's Season.  (You may insert a very relieved and solid sigh at this point.)  This undertaking began 14 months ago as a handful of paper swatches.  It has culminated in one hundred 96-page handbound books.  It was a huge project, far larger than I anticipated, but there was so much learned along the way, including much about myself.  There were times, especially during the winter's writing, that I wanted to turn my back and walk away from the whole thing.  I am an artisan.  The end of a day's work has always been tangible.  I am accustomed to holding, touching, feeling, admiring the results of the day's labor.  With writing, this doesn't happen.  No matter how well composed, daily words on a computer screen do not give that tangible pleasure...nothing to hold in my hand, the sum total of the day's work.  The appreciation never came until the end.  Now I find myself overwhelmed, not by any importance what has been accomplished, but by its beginning-to-end scope.  I will be releasing the book to the general public about June 1, and there will be a webpage on this site then giving more information about it at that time.  Once I gain some distance from the writing and binding, I'll share a few of the amusing behind-the-scenes things that occurred while creating the book. 

5-23-04  As if to remind me that I really am a papermaker, a box of willow skins arrived in the mail today, a present from Judy Zugish, a basketmaker from Washington state.  Lovely, luscious looking stuff!  The strips are both bark and bast.  I'll try it as is for paper first, then try it again with some of the bark removed and discarded to see the difference in the papers.

5-26-04  Like everyone, I have plans, and like everyone else, my plans fall through at times.  This is one of them.  I'd planned to be back into paper by now, but playing catch-up with life after spending the last few months binding books took precedence.  There were windows to wash, hedge to trim and naps to take.  I cut myself slack this past week and probably will until the first of June.  I have been busy making plans for a plants-to-paper workshop I will be teaching here in Berea August 2-4.  It will be a start-to-finish -- going to the fields to harvest various plants, then bringing them back for cooking, processing and creating lovely sheets of paper. Along the way, I'll try to share information about why some plants will work for paper, while others won't, and ways of dealing with difficult plant material.  The paper workshop will be followed by a two bookbinding workshop.  Those people who plan on taking both can pull papers in the first workshop to bind in the second.

5-31-04  One of my neighbor's has a magnolia that bears huge white flowers, and on my walk this evening I noticed yesterday's storms had blown the flower petals out.  The ground was littered.  The white petals had turned a lovely rust brown and felt like leather.  I gathered a five gallon bucket full and brought them back to dry.  There isn't any fiber in them, but they're so soft and sensuous that there must be some use for them.  I crumpled several and placed them in the press to exchange dry and see what that does.  **Between storms yesterday, I did pull together a webpage on the book.  You can read more about it by clicking here.

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