Souvenirs of Vulnerability *special edition










           
A collection of object portraits that marked moments of vulnerability in relationships. Each page is a Riso-print translation of the original watercolour paintings of the souvenirs kept post exposed vulnerability. Each object a memento of a shift in feeling. The pages are french folded, perforated and sewn using a variation on a Japanese Stab binding. Each page must be separated by the viewer in order to expose the artwork souvenir. Each book is housed in a bespoke slip case, covered in teal blue or candy pink Colorado book cloth, with a foil debossed yellow banana on the cover. 

 Two colour Risograph printed in soya based ink (Gold & Orange/Flouoro Pink) on Zerkall 145gsm paper, soft-back cover Riso-printed on handmade paper with reduced stab stitch in silk embroidery thread, handmade slip case with exposed foredge. Edition of 8, teal or pink slip cases available 130 x 190 mm, 2013, £38. Available Here for Worldwide shipping and

  Here in the UK

New York I Love You


. ..but you're bringing me down 








 New York I Love You, but you're bringing me down.
A recent book edition created as an ode to the Big Apple and my three months spent there in the winter of 2011. A photographic and text response to the patterns of life in an unrelenting city. A struggle/survive, embrace/despise, resist/collide tone resonating from beginning to end. A love letter to the man, rather than Manhattan.

 One colour digitally printed, perfect bound with hand made cover in Atlantic Mist book cloth, heat foil debossed with silver Empire State. Edition of 10, 2013, £15 available here.

Special Commissions







Since the beginning of the year I have been working on several special commissions for a number of artists. The satisfaction of collaborating on a design solution that works both functionally and conceptually has been a valued addition to my process of making.  Recently completed commissions for Artist Mishka Henner include an edition of portfolio boxes made for his photographic series 'Eighteen Pumpjacks'. Each one was handmade using millboard covered in heritage library buckram,  each foredge inlaid with 16 tiny magnets, achieving a very satisfying closure and mobility. 

The story of looking









Glaring through the countless misunderstandings of the days I see the beauty around each corner. The ladies, like rare butterflies, flit to and fro hurriedly with wooden shoed elegance, their lives lived on a sprung dance floor. The effort that it takes to be so lovely inspires my daily effort to be brave. I see the beauty in bravery, in looking, in being looked at, in looking lovely. I reinvent some days, creating a version of (little) Edie Bouvier Beale, turban donned, clogs, tights and shorts. 

 And some days I want invisibility, skin, cotton, eyes of truth. On Tuesday, whilst invisible, I sipped a cup of familiar, while Jazz lulled me to another island. While there, away from the looking, I remembered and gave thanks to the women I know that encourage the many facets, the many versions of beauty to be visible every day, be it butterfly or caterpillar. 
  
Today is a slug kind of beauty, but it has not stopped raining for three days and a mohair jumper is my skin.

Beginning to let the light in

The laptop is not a welcome guest in my ancient glass veranda. It precariously topples aloft an imperfect wooden stool, commanding a more linear clean surface than it's designated wabi sabi perch. There is a thin cobweb dangling from the bamboo pole being teased by the breeze. The sun shines once more through the cloudy glass and bathes my toes and wrists in the glorious. I am beginning to notice what I need. I sometimes buck the structure of the day, rearing my head to the learning of the Japanese language, choosing instead to watch the plants, the light. I want to notice nature as much as the Hiragana, Katakana and Kanji that dominate the world outside these paper walls. In turn I am also examining myself. Without the people, things and rituals that provided daily definition, I turn my eyes to the rest. It is a discovery, as though each day I explore both within and around, but struggle to articulate my findings. I take afternoon strolls to get lost in the newness and attempt to start dialogues about all I observe. Those dialogues, that I have always needed to have, wherever in the world I have been, have taken place over tea, across bridges, in parks, on sofas. Here they are all virgin thoughts, some naive or ridiculous, others obvious or contrary, some are laced with wonder and awe. And I feel reluctant to give them flight. In search of where they could reside, without them causing distractions, I wonder and wander. 

 There has been a shift here in this dreamy country since the earthquake. I feel that, though I have never visited Japan before. I read about a change in attitude for the future, for the better and I read about the feelings of futility expressed by some. The futility of love, of connecting with another person. I am fearful and then I am inquisitive and questioning. I turn these thoughts into ideas on wood. I study, draw and carve a woodcut in hope. Perhaps this is what Japanese craftsmen have always done. 

 Ideas into wood. Concepts to nature. Nature into understanding.

 I spend a good deal of each day with my nature. 



one month of looking

As the sunlight dances around the wooden veranda overlooking the wild, un-manicured front garden of the paper-glass house I now call home, my heart is finally regulating. The contemplative 'Tete' compilation pulses in my ears and behind me sits my love, practicing his Kanji diligently. This light is my lubricant, I cannot study when my cold northern skin, deprived of light for this long yearns to be warmed through. Still, in October the day requires no coat, no woolen layer, no protection against the elements here. I am free. The nine neglected coiffured trees soak up my sun too, their swaying leaves kiss one another in the breeze. Tiny winged butterflies flit in the bamboo. The smeared thin glass and mosquito net frames sandwich the dust of living. The Grid of bleached persimmon cloth carries traces of turquoise, maybe yellow in the history of its former curtain glory. A faded sewing machine, stained vanity case, a water marked box, sepia dotted linens are my accompaniments in the warmest corner of here. Being present is what I am here to be. They all let me in, respectfully. 

 I seek imperfections. I am at home with the beautiful flaws that surround me. The way that wooden screens stick/slide, the discreet/secret worn wooden locks, the gaping holes between uchi/soto (inside/outside). Everything here requires delicate attention to make it work. It is removed from the ease of modern living, and insists on an attentive mindful way of being. It is wonderful. 

 The fear bouts come, they hit me hard and flaw me. They arise from my inability to understand, to be understood, to express. Involuntary muteness has never been a friend of mine. The choice in being silent is another matter entirely. That, I have always craved and required and practiced since being a child. My voice, therefore inaudible, is here in my head instead. I witness and examine, identify, store and house the moments I need, as a reference. For so long ideas have become buried. Piles and stacks of other more pressing matters, distractions, frivolity, ambition, resilience, have silenced them. I am excavating now. Lucky I am to be free of the attention deficit disorder I have lived with. Here I am naked of obligation. The only expectation I have of myself is to survive. Perhaps in time to thrive.

 Here, my heart swells and tilts to the front of my chest when I experience the rawness. A magical rawness at being alive. I am tucked in tight between the futon and two blankets listening to the typhoon whirling in the moonlight. I soak swim in the depths of the Japanese bathing tub walking my eyes around every corner of pink peeling paint, telling its story. I celebrate and savour each simple bowl of gohan, cherishing its goodness (the teardrops of farmers). 

 I see glimpses of my awareness in his reflections of me and I am love. 






The Tokyo Art Book Fair 2013









Held over 3 days, the TABF was a wonderful event. The M Collective stand presented the work of 9 artists based in Manchester, each exploring the form of the artist's book within their practice. The fair attracted a huge amount of visitors with so many people coming to say hello and find out more about us. We appeared to stand out in our creation of handmade, limited edition works, which drew us plenty of attention and sales. It was a thrill to meet people from Tokyo's artistic and self publishing community. We will be back in 2014 for more.

So this is Japan.



After returning from New York 20 months ago a declaration was made.  A decision to live in Japan. As each month passed, our days became strikes off the calendar, marking the closeness of the idea into our real. 

 The window is wide open, but air only comes through the blades of the pistachio Mitsubishi metal fan. It's 31 degrees. It's October 7th. I am wearing a '30's Liberty printed cotton dress and am trying to reach calm. Birds are in full song, now the cicadas are silent. The smell of life here is sweetsavouryfreshsmokesea. As I open each drawer I air the mothballs and infuse my scent, mark my space to feel home. The unfamiliar dominates. Familiar has dissolved. The sky promises a thunderstorm soon, which mustn't break me with the heat. 

 Each day I find the importance of Being Here. Creating a rhythm to live. Noticing everything. Thankful for the fear. Learning to talk. Standing and remaining. Not running. Making a connection from this point to that, like joining the dots and hoping for a picture. My challenge is here. You're welcome to be here with me. 

Where did the last 2 months go?

Hello. 
Where did August and September disappear to? It was a whirlwind and I have just emerged. 
Please forgive my silence while the excitement and terror of beginning a new chapter in my life engulfed me. 
Here are some pictures to fill in the gaps of two of the most magical-emotional-stressful-emergent months. 


Many projects came to an end and exhibitions were curated and hung.



 Examining everything in a keep/let go of sort of way, whilst making editions every spare minute. 





Brief days of beautiful family seaside relief 




Studio sorting/making/clearing 


 Precious Breakages



The wonderful invitation to LENvention in Bristol to be calm in the letterpress workshop with inspiring printers. 



Walks with perspective (and alpaca) in Yorkshire 


A place that remained a refuge for tea and tears was flat 9 in the tree tops.


2 months (Part II)



Car Boot Loot 50p sale




Making for sanity / remembering to breathe / everything must go 




Nephews / bunnies / friends reunited 




the sheer hell of moving - packing-storage-cleaning




A sendoff to remember 
Japan / underwater theme
the stuff of dreams


FLOW Gallery





SW and myself of BATTENBURG PRESS have sold work to Reed Contemporary Books in the last year and these pieces have been selected for the 'To have and to hold - an exhibition of 50 beautiful books' at FLOW Gallery London between September 5th - 7th. Reed Contemporary will also be showing these works at The London Art Book Fair at Whitechapel Gallery between 12th - 15th September. Please consider yourself invited. 

It's all about making





Flitting between designing spreads for a new ode to NY, while folding/pressing/gluing/constructing books and boxes in the studio as I make moves towards crossing the t's dotting the i's. An inventory for all books made and half made and not made at all ready to complete for a clean sweep. Fueled by tea and home baked bread toast. These Summer days are full of visits and pop-in's from loved dear friends who know that time left doing so is short. I am lucky to have them and to have these days. 

Tokyo Dreams




M-collective are busy making in anticipation of the Tokyo Art Book Fair in September. We will be showing work for the first time internationally, as a collective. The Tokyo Art Book Fair will be held between September 21st (Sat) - 23rd (Mon/National Holiday), 2013 at Kyoto University of Art and Design, Tohoku University of Art and Design GAIEN CAMPUS(1-7-15 Kita-Aoyama, Minato-ku, Tokyo, Japan). We are thrilled to be showing our work in Japan. Come and say hello and see new work from all of the M-collective.



*New Courses at Hot Bed Press

Bookmaking for Artists #2

 


 4 evenings Course
Starting: Tuesday 9th July 2013
Ending: Tuesday 30th July 2013
From: 6:00 pm to 9:00 pm

 This course is suited to those with a bit of previous experience of book arts and/or for those who have done one of my courses before. Over 4 Summer evenings build on the knowledge and skills that you already have by learning how to create new book structures to house your artwork. With a focus on functional forms that allow single sewn pages to open flat, the versatile Coptic stitch and the creation of cloth covered slip cases. The course will expand your toolbox of techniques and talents in enabling you to confidently go on to make more of your own artist’s book editions.
Cost: £125.00 / £105.00 members
For more information go here.

Hard-backed Book Making

 


weekend Course
Starting: Saturday 3rd August 2013
Ending: Sunday 4th August 2013
From: 11:00 am to 5:00 pm

This two day course will show you how to make your own hardback books from scratch.
You will begin by learning how to traditionally sew onto tapes along with compensation binding methods. Then you will go on to make a hard-back cloth bound book complete with endpapers, headbands and a bookmark ribbon. The course is ideal for those who already have some experience of making books but is also suitable for anyone new to bookmaking. The techniques and skills acquired will mean you’ll never want to buy a ready-made sketch book again.
Cost: £125.00 / £105.00 members
For more information go here