Bookish Progress

Early, frustrated notebook

For the past two months I have been laying the ground work for a new book. Getting the momentum going at the beginning was not easy: this is a larger, more involved project than anything I have attempted before, and the difference in scale and emotional commitment was enough to set my feet in proverbial concrete for the first few weeks. I diligently tried to write, and write, and sketch, and plan, and re-write some more, but distraction came easy and I went on a lot of angry, frustrated walks to try to talk through the friction. I ended up spending hours at local coffee shops staring at my notebook, pulling my hair, sipping tea, and going home in defeat.

Through the muck and grime a few ideas stuck, and as I worked to develop a promising thread the other secondary ideas fit in smoothly. I suddenly had a coherent narrative and the whole project made sense. I can't describe what a relief that was! My notebooks grew increasingly more orderly.

In the background: a proper (for me) outline format!

In the foreground: a quick sketch to work through page composition

Steps towards production are moving swiftly. I made a small signature to work through pacing in the first (most fully developed) chapter, to get a sense of how many pages the book might be; I have grant deadlines in my back pocket for this project; I have figured out press sheet and final book dimensions, and so on.  Most importantly, I typed up the project plan in full yesterday and sent it to three groups of trusted & talented friends for critique and feedback. 

It is going to be a hand-illustrated comic/graphic novella with no text or dialogue, just visual sequences. I don't want to give away too much about the story yet; that will come as the illustrations are  completed. For now I can say that I have been thinking a lot about what it is to make work, why I am (/others are) drawn to production and creation and output, and what happens when that fails. Also, fire!

Renegade Holiday Sale

This Saturday and Sunday, Monkey-Rope Press will be joining Slow Industries & Starshaped Press in a very festive, slightly snarky, hand-set-type-heavy booth at the Chicago Renegade Holiday Sale. We had a blast at the September festival; we hope to see you there!

Field trip

Yesterday I broke my long studio weekend focus to visit Monkey-Rope Press friend and sometime-mentor Melissa Jay Craig at Ragdale. I knew of the Ragdale by reputation; it is a residency compound for visual artists, writers and composers in the north shore suburb of Lake Forest. The main house and barn were designed by Arts and Crafts architect Howard Van Doren Shaw as a summer retreat for his family. His wife was a poet and his daughter a sculptor, so it has been a space for creative production since it was first built. I contributed a book to Shawn Sheehy's "Haunted Library" installation at the Ragdale house in October, but was unable to attend the opening; in similar misfortune, I was invited to visit Melissa last autumn but fell ill and was unable to visit. She kindly extended the invitation again, and I was delighted to oblige.

The Metra train ride was pleasantly uneventful, but leaving the train and entering the Affluent Fairy Land that is downtown Lake Forest was disorienting. I grew up in middle-class apartments on the outskirts of small cities in the South, and as a relative newcomer to Chicago I have spent all of my time living in & exploring the city proper; as such, I've always assumed the stories I had heard about the suburbs were exaggerated. Fairy tales and myths! Not so. On my walk to Ragdale, I counted several houses with more than 5 chimneys, distinct wings, and "coach houses" off the back larger than any house I have even visited. (It was pointed out to me that these are the "less desirable" properties one can see off the main road. Yikes.)

The surreal walk through town made Ragdale even more lovely by contrast. I first visited Melissa in her prairie studio, with views of the open meadow & wild prairie on two sides and a generous skylight above. After a short visit, we walked through the adjoining grasslands and forest before meeting up with another resident for a tour through the barn studios and Ragdale house. I couldn't have asked for a more gracious and encouraging host--it was a wonderful afternoon, and I only wish the train schedules were more flexible so I could have stayed longer. 

(A view of the expansive prairie from the far end, lovely even in its dry winter colors: the prairie studio is near the tree line on the far side.)

I admit that I didn't really "get it" before I visited. Why disrupt life for a creative retreat? Shouldn't work be integrated fully into a daily routine? I still know it should and has to be a daily practice, but this option is a dream. To have a full space to one's own, to not have to go grocery shopping or any other number of daily-life errands, to not have to think about or worry over a single thing except working on your project for a whole month: I get it now. Although scheduling a month away from life is challenging, I think it's something to work towards.

Until then, back to work. I need to finish carving my block for the Jorgensen print, but I think I'm going to spend a few hours with the computer off & ear plugs in to work on my book. Happy trails!

Battleship Gray Friday

Monkey-Rope Press doesn't think much of Black Friday (although I will admit, I spent a few hours this morning looking for discounted book presses); after all, who needs Black Friday when you have a luxurious block of battleship gray mounted linoleum needing a few more hours of love and care? Christine J. and I spent a quiet afternoon together worrying over her dress, and I can't wait to see how it looks printed. Some of the more shallow cuts might need re-touching once I proof the block, but it's exciting to have so many more square inches finished! Press-time will be scheduled in the near future; until then, happy post-Thanksgiving hibernation, y'all!

Facts, Hercule, facts!

I spent this grey, windy Chicago Saturday working on the Christine Jorgensen print. My first step today was to tape the drawing to the linoleum block with graphite paper underneath. The image is just smaller than the block at 11" x 15", so I chose the best corner of the block and lined up the paper's corner against those two edges before taping. I will trim off the excess borders on the table saw at the studio before printing, to save myself the effort of extra carving.

Side note: one thing that I learned the hard way about printing linoleum blocks on a vandercook is that mounted linoleum blocks that you can buy at art stores or online are often not cut perfectly square, which can be a nightmare to print if registration is important. (Registration in printmaking refers to the amount of variance and accuracy in the overlapping of different colors in a single print.) An irregular block might look and feel like it is properly locked in to the bed of the press, but every time the rollers pass the block has a tendency to travel quite significantly. The first pass of my first multi-color linoleum print travelled wildly--more than half an inch--and I didn't notice until more than halfway through the run. Disaster! Although this is a one-color print, squaring the image is still good practice.

Now, tracing. Again. This is the 2nd time the image has been traced, after the mirror-flip trace on the light box.

Finally, the fun: carving! After honing my tools to be sure they are sharp, I started carving. This is a detailed print, so carving takes quite a while. It is an engaging process, but let's be honest: sitting down to carve for 5 or 6 hours at a time can make a girl's mind wander towards less hand-aching tasks. I get the least distracted when I carve by listening to movies or the radio; this was a Shot in the Dark/My Blue Heaven/His Girl Friday-length carve.

This might not look like much for 5ish hours of work, but I am quite pleased with it so far.

Back to the block!