A Playing Card Book - An update

I've been experimenting with my playing card books, with some success and some interesting accidents. I posted the beginnings of my first experiment about a month ago. I found that by painting the cards first and then gluing on images, the cards curled up and refused to lay flat. To attempt to remedy that, I placed my iron on top of the pile of cards and left them overnight, which was not my brightest idea. I checked them in the morning and found a soggy mess as the iron had leaked all over the cards. I had to tear cards apart, leaving ripped paper behind. Annoying, but also a very cool effect (seen in image to left). I've decided to let it be, and am pleased with the messiness of it. The point of making these books was to experiment and just make something, not to do something perfect. So I'm thrilled at the happy accident of it all but not so pleased that the pages still curl too much despite being weighed down overnight. My next step has been thinking about the images and beginning to add some writing (seen in image to right). I've noticed some themes of freedom and self-identity showing up in this little book.

I also started making a new book, after deciding that I wanted to process some recent losses in my family. I've glued on the images and began altering them with paint. I plan to go back and write in the stories. Because of the difficult nature of this project, it seems to be taking longer than anticipated. But the other purpose of this experiment was to do a little personal art therapy, and use art to process some of my thoughts/feelings/experiences. So I will just let it happen when its ready to come out.

The Altered Book Project

Last weekend, we drove by a gorgeous red farm house with a huge pile of books lined along its picket fence and a sign that read "Free Books." While I love sorting through a pile of free books, I'm never quite able to find what I'm looking for. Usually there are a lot of paperbacks, cheesy books on romance, finances and self-image. I daydream about finding a treasure trove of hardback books with old, library book covers, those textured fabrics and imprinted lettering. If the pages are yellowed with an old font, even better. And I covet books on maps, science, with technical drawings and antiquated instructions. This pile of free books was better than expected! I took home two bags of really spectacular finds, a hard back Lord of the Rings set, two atlases, and one old school Weight Watchers cook book, among many more.

I've been looking for a find like this for awhile because I've been planning to make some altered books, both for myself and with my clients. An Altered Book is literally a book that has been modified into a piece of art. It can be sliced into, pages glued together, cut out or folded up to make envelopes, secret hiding places, drawers and holes. The pages can be added to, painted, decorated, decoupaged, stamped, sewn, burned, torn, and can become something completely beyond what its original purpose was. The original book can be non-existent.

As a book lover, the idea of altering a book is a bit crazy. It feels wrong to do. However, the therapeutic symbolism of it is a powerful metaphor. By taking something old, unusable, something in bad shape, or out of date, and taking control of it, morphing it into something beautiful and unexpected, is transformative. In addition, the inherent narrative of the book can support the telling of the narrative of a person's life, piecing together an individual's journey. Here, a person gets to literally re-create their story. And taking control of my narrative, my life, is incredibly important. The altered book can be like a journal, and there is no right or wrong way to do it, only experimentation. A page can be worked and reworked, removed if necessary. I love it, I love seeing what comes from it, I love the freedom of it, and I love the unexpectedness of it.

And now that I've found this secret stash of gorgeous books, I have no excuse but to get started. That beautiful green atlas will be the first one I get started on, and I'll post updates here. As for those other books, I think its time to get started on planning a Altered Book group for my clients.

Forgetting Winter

The winter here in New England has been brutal. I started a new job in September, and of course had no sick or vacation time accumulated in preparation for the inevitable snow day (hello, this is the land of Nor'easters). I didn't realize (although a sinking place inside of me knew it was coming) that it would snow weekly or sometimes bi-weekly. Oh or for days in a row. In the midst of this, I had this ridiculous push to build up my case load and see a certain number of clients every week. The funny thing is, clients don't come when its a blizzard outside. I think our concept of "mentally ill" is ridiculous: who is more crazy, the person who is wise enough to stay home or the idiot who works during a white out for a company that never closes? It was me who was depressed; every day was gray and dreary, I can count the sunny days because I desperately sucked in every last drop of Vitamin D, huddled in a wrap, with my feet perched on a second heater in my cold office painted a mocking sunny yellow. Bah.

Today was a brilliant blue day, highlighted by the trees popping fresh greens, whites and pinks. My office window was open; I drove in with my sunroof tilted, music blaring, hair blowing, relaxed happiness. There was a sense of relief in the air, everyone was lighter, laughing, smiling, remarking, "Its a beautiful day outside!" The radio DJs even went so far to say, "Spring in New England is why we suffer through the six months of winter."

Ah ha! Well, to you Winter, I say: I will not forget you. Oh, yes, I may have conquered you and your icy mounds of thundersnow with my wickedly expensive snow tires and superior traction control. I fought against your frigid temperature, with gloves mailed to me from a far warmer climate (and they were worn with a lovely sense of irony) and my dear, life saving heated seats. I even made due with my coat for one more year, and dutifully carried around my snow boots. I think your most devious move has been your darkness. I thought I would barely crawl out of the shortness of your days - eating french fries once a week was the only thing that saved me. I found myself desperate for even the tepid heat of the sun. I had to restraint myself from bringing home boxes, packing my belongings and running away. I begged my husband to move - anywhere - and drew up pie charts and lists proving that we had to move. You almost had me Winter.

But today's New England, I could stay for this. Until it becomes clear that Summer is pathetically short, and Fall settles again. I am not a fool for the brilliant foliage - I know what is coming. You and me, Winter, we are not friends. You challenge me, deplete me, and make me fat and lazy. I can't stand you and your icy wet coldness. I will not forget.

Silent Sunday

State Park, Maryland

Silent Sunday

Place of Refuge, Big Island, Hawaii

Silent Sunday

Mt. Auburn Cemetery, Cambridge, MA