Chinese bookbinding enters the digital age

This month I presented my Chinese bookbinding slide show and talk at Warner Pacific College. It's always fun opening up minds and eyes to the simple, great invention of books and to try to imagine life without them. Many of the students in attendance had just read Dai Sijie's Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress, a gem of a story in which books become everything to two city boys undergoing a rural re-education during the Cultural Revolution.

To the boys, books are their tools to escape, wooing, salvation, and even their undoing. No wonder Mao was so afraid of them.

To prepare for the talk—and as an excuse to collect potential art for the bookbinding manual-adventure tale I'm revising—I decided to give my image collection of bookbinders, printers, conservationists, and other artisans from my first China stay a serious upgrade, and digitize them. It was exhilarating finally sending off that package of dusty slides in hopes they would return quickly as even more handsome, sharply focused bits of data. Considering the results and the horrific customer service endured, I still heartily recommend the process, just not with that particular company.

Turning the page on that contentious project, here's the digitized opening image for the presentation: a papercut feitian (flying angel) from the far-west Chinese city of Dunhuang presenting a peaceful offering, a Chinese book stacked and wrapped in the traditional style.

Cooped up no more

Above: Three Chiyogami Chicks, eggs, and the altered book on the first day out at First Unitarian. Below: Some actual chicks gathered around my chicks.

Last weekend I attended both post-service receptions as the representative artist for our Artspace show at First Unitarian Church. To my surprise and delight, two of the Chiyogami Chicks had already sold, and the last one flew out of there that same day. If I had had extra time this week, I would have whipped up a couple more but as it is, the show ended sans chicks but still with plenty of eggs, and that altered book I discussed last time.

Many pieces sold in the show, so we deem it a success. It would have been anyway for all the positive comments and serious art appreciators who saw it.

Spring is in the air, and so is inspiration.

I have never thought so much about chickens

Who knew it was so fun making altered books? This is my second, a pecked-up copy of The Mating and Breeding of Poultry, which will join the chiyogami chicks and eggs for the First Unitarian show that opens Sunday. My other altered book is Religious History.

One thing that amazes me is how tough books are. Tucked and folded between covers, paper's not as perishable as it seems—yet another way that books stand the test of time.

Lest we forget

Look what slithered in

Wishing you much love, happiness, health & prosperity in the new year.

Cheeping and speaking

I'll miss these guys if they sell.

Looking both backward and forward, I'm prepping my entry for a reprise of Artspace's Birds of a Feather show, March 3-31 at the First Unitarian Church of Portland, 1034 S.W. 13th Ave. in Portland, 97205.

From our statement:

The theme of Birds of a Feather speaks not only to our community of artists, but to other 'flocks' as well. The tribal is timeless. 'Birds of a Feather' also brings to mind more abstract issues of unity, wholeness, and inclusiveness. What does it mean to belong? What does it mean to embrace? Does the flock assemble organically, or is it a category outside our choosing? These are just a few of the questions we've debated within ourselves and with each other in creating work for this show.

This time around I've put the Chiyogami Chicks on more stable footing (ha), and whipped up more eggs swathed in fantastical Japanese paper. 

I continue to attend the public lectures given as part of the MFA program in applied craft and design jointly offered by the Oregon College of Art & Craft and Pacific Northwest College of Art. Even if the featured artist-designer works in a medium I know nothing about (fibers, wood sculpture), I almost always come away with food for thought and good notes. Over the years I've learned about paper's many possibilities (Paul Wong), elemental furniture (Allan Wexler), the ultimate synthesis of art and science (Christine Lee), how good Abraham Lincoln looks with an afro (Sonya Clark), and much more.

After a few years of these fruitful Wednesday nights I've realized what makes an artist, already inspiring to me, even better as a speaker:

• They say from the get-go why they're up there. I don't mean listing academic credentials and titles, but really—what have they done and where have they been (humility is fine, but face it: We're here to learn).

• After the elevator speech, they jump right into projects and slides. It's the eye-ear candy we crave.

• They avoid reading the slides in the presentation.
• They show links between creative thinking and evolution of career.
• Pauses are OK; "um" detracts from the message.
• They update the presentation as necessary. If all references and projects are years old, we'll notice.
• They practice. I'll never forget the Famous Artists from New York who came to speak at the Portland Art Museum a few years back. They hadn't bothered to do a run-through. Sure, Portland can feel provincial, but we're still worth your best effort. Besides, the next collector/investor/benefactor could be in the audience.

You asked for it

The Incipit nova via travel journal listing is live over at the Etsy shop.