Here are some pages from my handmade book as promised:
Here is the brown paper bag wrapped front cover, brushed with random strokes of gesso and acrylic paint and adorned with a torn strip of poetry
pencil drawings of owls adorn most pages, a few bits of evocative text left from the book page used to make this one signature (folded papers) book composed of three folios (a folded piece of paper)
"graceful and... splendid old garden"
pages 2 and 3
"Before the evening...every scrap which could be found"
pages 4 and 5
here I added some torn bits of text on each side of the preserved one
"so delightfully small...more curious than beautiful...caused you to smile"
pages 6 and 7
"cottage upon the island"
pages 8 and 9
"you did come from home...the vacant spaces left...so the story runs"
pages 10 and 11
"and the gathering together...they began to be"
"I have never seen"
As you can see the book is, as yet, unfinished. There's more I'd like to add.
You can also see that 3 folded pages (folios) that make up this one signature book
amount to 12 pages on which to work, not including the inside covers (which add 2 more)
This was a fun little project, something I've been wanting to do longer than I care to mention.
When one thinks of the little things one could do in a lifetime to create an expression of the self, without measuring these efforts against anyone else's, it boggles the imagination. We are a sentient people who learn, both about ourselves and the world at large, through our feelings though we may cloud this direct avenue with the intellect through beliefs and adherence to form. Creativity in its many forms is an avenue to the feelings through thoughtful expression that can be more transcendent for the maker than the viewer.
I once saw a shelf of pipecleaner and found bits of paper and tissue figures made by a concentration camp survivor who invited me to see, or perhaps witness this fragile expression of her experience. I was profoundly moved by this personal expression of the self. I have since forgotten her name or how I came to meet her, but I will never forget the feeling it stamped on my sense of what is true in the realm of creative expression.
I encourage you to look with renewed eyes at the bits of detritus one finds around the home. Artists are notorious for stuffing pockets with "treasures" found along the way, filling boxes and windowsills with this raw material. What could you do with a bit of string and paper, some glue and a threaded needle, colourful plastic bottlecaps or some discarded cardboard? I'd love to hear your ideas.