Paper thread books in progress. BIPS!

Spent a happy time tearing handmade paper for pages this morning and assembling signatures.

 Page edges out

Spines out

 The green paper is made from iris foliage from my front yard.

 The grey mixture paper I made nearly fifty years ago, in my college papermaking  course with wonderful artist Joan Needham. 

 It's a mixture of cotton linters, abaca and I forget what else. I notice some of the color came off on my fingers from handling it. This paper is retrieved from an old artwork which had run its course, been exhibited, and retired.

I found some antique silk threads in my stash, which will probably work well for stitching.

And since the books are jumping all over, I'm pressing them under the glass sheet on the coffee table, my go-to for pressing work, examining it without wearing it out, and for resting my teatray. Multi purpose. Later I'll do the binding.

After this I'll be figuring out pages and binding those wool covers you saw a while back before I got all into paper thread. They look big now, after working with the tiny ones.

I haven't talked much about the intent behind this series, mainly been showing process. But the intent is protest and reparations.

All my art since the disastrous presidential election has been protest. It's a determination to continue making art in the face of increasing encroachment on freedom of expression. It's to say that women can not be silenced.

 The use of paper thread, changing a commodity created at the expense of the earth into a small thing of beauty is about honoring the earth.

 The use of  cotton linters is a humble apology  to the people whose lives were destroyed by the cultivation of cotton, whose bodies were used as tools of the economy from which they were excluded. I can never use it without remembering that price, and trying to do my part in reparations. In using it with respect, not wasting even a shred.

And it's to say that power is not always about size. Small works can be powerful and significant. Humble materials, ancient skills of weaving, spindle spinning, hand stitching, are all a nod to the people who came before us.

This is what's in my mind as I work on the series. These are the goals I'm aiming for. In one sense  artworks are a byproduct, rather than the whole thing. The process of making them is a connection with the people who were there first.

And I have the luxury of making what I need to make, learning as I go, not having to make  what's required in a production process. My deadlines are upcoming exhibit opportunities, plenty of time yet to improve and make works worth looking at.

I always remember how free I am, and how I need to look out for those who aren't. The Izzy dolls are my protest against the cruel wars run by power mad men, to bring a scrap of comfort to children caught up in crisis, and to their  mothers.

This is all very heavy. But art is about coming face to face with yourself and your times. It's not all about making stuff, though that part is exciting and fun.

Back to work, chop wood, carry water, what's for lunch.