December 4, 2013 § Leave a Comment
so, in a fflap p
part of the crow series, which of course is not about crows at all, but about my friend don, and by extension me, and the times of course, and life and death, and now about the final dither of putting it together in its book form and the ways in which I can, one can, make it out of this world complicated or distill it to its common sense and just do it easy
in a flapp is a book made up of 6 two-sided 6″ squares which need to be joined so they can fold up into a 6″ squareand there will be only one, ONE, copy
and the sticking points, as it were, were the hinge and the glue, (what kind of hinge, what kind of glue) and of course the gluing, a whole tribulation unto itself. (read more about it here.)
I spent a couple of days playing with paper tape hinges, kozo paper hinges, linen tape hinges, one-sided linen&kozo paper hinges, and 2-sided linen and kozo paper hinges and experimented with both Noro and Yes glue
when I had nowhere to go and nothing left to do but the doing of it, I made tea, put on Bach, made 6 2-sided linen tape and black kozo paper hinges, and having a good sense of how wide the hinge area needed to be just glued the whole damn thing with Yes glue, no rulers, no pencil marks, no hits no runs no errors.
The crow series, whether or not in the end it has anything to do with crows, certainly started with the damn things and it started taking shape with &, next in line for rendering into its bookish form and all (almost all) the decisions are made.
the printing and turkish map folding is done. square corners. check
pages to be glued are marked
covers fit, at first I thought I’d cut them too small, but they are not intended to go around the pages, so in fact the measurement was correct
mark and make sewing holes
find thread, sew,
la la la having meandered into the vicissitudes I veered away from the single very simple thing I realize each and every time as if it were a new idea:
all dithering and fussing
(and deciding and getting ready or being ill-prepared, having tea or coffee,playing bach or ac/dc, cats or dogs as helpers) aside, it really does boil down to the just doing it, and the doing of it has its own say, its own rhythm its own wisdom its own form and its own way, and you have to just do it,
and each doing informs the next one.
November 30, 2013 § 4 Comments
It starts where things do, before and after—
or may be in between.
My process is not linear, not even circular exactly. It spirals and changes planes, like a mobius, and it spans, bridges, nullifies time.
On one plane it starts with the sume-i of Jon Roberts, (a man I didn’t know,) and passes through the hands of Micah, (a man I came to know a little) who then offers 10 copies of the print to each of us in the Iota Press Co-op to use any way we wanted.
it was harder than I thought it would be, to take it, have it in the way it was offered, to work with it as if it were mine,
it was harder than I thought it would be to work with it as if it were mine,
it was harder than I thought it would be to free it up
(The only metaphor I had was lo those many years ago when Paul and I first talked about moving in together. We had ongoing conversations about how it would work; would he move in to my house, would I move in to his house, would we move in to a house neither of us had first claim to. And when we finally decided it made most sense for me to move in to his house it was with the caveat that once I moved in, it was our house; there would be no default as to who would move out if the whole thing didn’t work.)
Slapping words, or a string of words on it about crows, seemed easy and obvious and deadly, and so the project died, or as it happened lay dormant until one of those middle of the wide awake nights when I heard myself retort, (as if in response to the many who might have loved saying, they had a visitation! they’d seen him! he’d come back as a crow!) “WRONG! He didn’t come back as a crow, he left as one!”
And so on another plane it begins with him, Don. Heart of my hearts, ahab to my jezebel, who died long before I was ready on a blue moon in december in 1990 as if it were some damned stage play, Don, who listened to all my stories and never believed any of them. Don who stood on and peed on ceremony who knew all about ribbons&peignoirs, whips and chains, metaphysics and religion, motorcycles and tea.
Don who always gave me permission, WRONG! HA!
He dared me. Dared me to do what I wanted. To dismember and reconstitute to connoiter and reconnoiter, to blow anything I wanted wide open, to be fearless to be daunting; to be anything. And to do whatever I did in the grand style it deserved. He did not brook bland, or facelessness, or listlessness masquerading as silence; and he certainly had no patience for polite.
And so, I have. And I am changed.
And so are the crows, as they were meant to be.
3 broadsides: (he stormed life, he flew in the face of everything, life stormed back)
4 books: sinew; in a fflap p; embody; &
each a stand alone one-off, and/or part of a whole story
p.s. embody is not yet embodied.
November 20, 2013 § Leave a Comment
holiday cards, and crows which aren’t so much crows any more as stories about don, and death and how for better and worse somehow the dying are automatically sainted as if in life they weren’t pains in the ass and of course the dithering which precedes binding and books
and ones off, or one offs and more artist statements and
red yellow orange brown silence
and before I had a studio I had a bedroom and shower, a journal and just the right pen
November 9, 2013 § 2 Comments
sand. an edition of twenty
here.say. press 2013
printed in guerneville, ca
sand. abiding its chafe and polish except in my eggs.
original poetry handset in Kennerley and handprinted on C&P pilot
photos by author printed on Canon inkjet
October 28, 2013 § Leave a Comment
I like homestretches.
so, I’m about to print my 3rd volume (Tuggle, Petersen done, about to do La Montagne) of Print Poetry, a series we’re doing (at Iota Press, Sebastopol, CA) to put poetry back into people’s pockets ($3.00 each)
am working on several versions of The Crow Series
have just finished the backcover to include the colophon and the flyleaf of SAND,
poems about the chafe and polish between the you&me of us all,
then it’s simply printing the front cover, collating, drilling holes and the sewing. wow.
October 27, 2013 § Leave a Comment