Last night I lay down around 11, intending to sleep like normal people do. But around midnight I woke up and remembered the book that was frustrating me to pieces!
This little book starts out with a large sheet of good paper, and collaging all over it, then cutting it into signatures. After making a cover (gluing handmade paper onto book boards), I thread SIX needles and follow the instructions for stitching them together.
A few years ago I might have thrown it all in the trash, but now I am persistent. I don't stop until a book emerges. At 2:00 in the morning, with no phone ringing, no dog wanting in or out, this baby of a book was born! It wasn't actually finished until about six this morning, but the link stitch finally made sense.
The book I now hold it my hand is an imperfect treasure, and I will soon make another while muscle memory serves me.
As the elder I now unquestionably am, I've learned that the hours of the night are my most productive, even sometimes exhilarating. When Luci emerges from her burrow under the covers, I say, "Hey, Luci, look at this!"
She's not impressed. Few, if any, humans would be impressed. But what I do these days is not contingent on anyone's being impressed; it's all about the process of learning so many things in one tiny structure. The Ethiopian stitch that connects the pages to the cover; practice with thread tension; what kind of paper works best; and keeping six needles in play from cover to spine!
The temptation is to go to the thrift store and pick up some more vintage books for my upcoming project of turning an old book into a new book. Or the art supply store to get a chisel. Or organizing my art supplies and cleaning off the dining table.
All the tempting distractions are almost as much fun as making an actual book, but on this Saturday morning--after I go back to sleep for a bit--I'm resolutely avoiding them and preparing to start a very different book.
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