Dust begins to fall from the book I’m sewing as the thread pulls through the paper. Heather and I have finally created enough paste papers to start making/sewing books again. As I sew together a book for a dear friend, dust from the thread needling through the paste paper makes colorful dust that falls on my desk. While making this book, I’m listening to a Buddhist chant, Om Mani Padme Hum: Cultivate Love and Compassion. The person to receive this book is one of the most loving and compassionate people I know. As I listen to different meditative pieces, I listen to the book to feel what kind of music would fit the book’s overall feel. Also, I hope that the notes of the music mix with the paints, the pages, and the threads so that the book might vibrate with love. Both the love I have in my heart and the love that my friend and I share.

 

Each book that we make is unique. Once, I tried to make two books the same. However, even though the same paste papers were used for each book, the stitches had different challenges, and the edges too worked differently for each book. A book is similar to a person in that way, we all have our challenging edges and though we may be biologically related, our stitching always remains different. Recently, I sent in my DNA testing to Ancestry.com to trace our family’s ancestry. Yesterday, I listened to a helpful video that explained why my DNA would be different even from my sister’s. Though we get 50% of our DNA from both parents, it’s not always the same percentage for siblings. This blog is about books though, not about ancestry. Making my sister’s book was one of the first books that I made. Though I had poked myself in a couple of others, I had only gotten blood on the one I made for my sister. With each book that I finish, I feel like I need to share that no blood was shed for the making of this book. Other things make each book unique.

 

Heather (my wife) and I most often paint the paste papers with our companion artist, Tracey Thompson. Making the paste papers is the most creative and fun part of making a book. The process, however, is time-consuming and messy. It usually takes an entire Saturday morning to make the paste, the paste paint, and set up the table with tools and protective coverings. We then spend hours painting, stamping, and choosing various color palettes for our choices. Even though we are using the same colors, each of our paste papers looks different. The book I’m making now is for my friend who likes the beach. Trying as hard as I could, I made paste paper hoping to evoke a feeling of the beach. The truth is, Tracey should have made the papers for my signatures (inserts) because her choice and mix of colors better represent beach colors. I tend to paint more of the jewel tones which are often darker.  Heather’s choices are much different than either Tracey’s or mine. Once we put the papers to dry on the drying rack, the next day, it is easy to tell whose paper is whose. There are times when one of us finds a process that the others like. Though we may try to imitate a swirl or a color, our hands move differently, and I believe that our eyes view colors differently.

 

Just now, I stopped sewing because I had misplaced a hole in one of the signatures (inserts). I have two choices. I can unthread what I just sewed and make a corrective hole (which might tear), or I can leave it as it is with a visible glitch in the spine. All of my books have mistakes even though I wish it weren’t so. When I make a mistake (as the novice in the trio), my hope is always to correct it so that it looks like an on-purpose rather than an error. Sometimes this works out and sometimes it doesn’t. When making my books, I’m always praying and remembering the person for whom I’m making the book. Though that sounds religious/meditative/spiritual, the mistakes also mean that there’s a fair amount of cursing when I make a mistake. The error I made just now is a huge one for me since I take pride in how the spines look. Now I must work to find a way to correct my error without causing damage to this particular signature. In addition to correcting the sewing hole, correcting this mistake also means unthreading the needle. Although the curved book needle has a larger eye hole than a sewing needle, it is still tricky to thread string with eyes that are 63 years old. So now, I need to give thanks that I can still see since I know my mom cannot even do this simple task.

 

The dog has stopped chasing rainbows that dance on the floor from the window. The mediation music nears its end as I begin to sew on the last cover. There’s no way that I can write out the entire book-making process because it’s a long process. It’s taken me months to do this book because I didn’t feel that my paste papers were painted in beachy colors. Finally, I had Heather look at them with me and pick out some that were close to beachy. The cover is a color I’ve seen in the Gulf of Mexico. Some of my signatures are the color of the sun. Now the dog snores softly behind me as the music stops and solitude descends. The book has its final cover, and another work of love is completed only to begin again.

 

 

“It is right that you should begin again every day. There is no better way to complete the spiritual life than to be ever beginning it over again.”

~Francis deSales