I’m thinking that the little meander book (2.5 x 3.5 in or so) in the corner may be how I got this leftover palette of gouache in the first place. The colors match. If so, then I began with three primaries (warm yellow and blue, cool red), and that’s it.
At this rate, I’ll be binding another journal of daily lettering soon.
One of the series of artist books entitled Scintillate, Scintillate. (My lack of imagination for the title reminds of the three brothers on The Bob Newhart Show: Larry, Darryl, and “my other brother” Darryl).
I learned this sesquipedalian version of the old children’s poem, “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”, as a child, and it has always been a favorite. This is a simplified version of an in-progress edition of artist books. 4 in x 7.25 in.
Dr. Martin’s metallic and white inks on Arches Cover Black text, folded to make the panorama book presented in Hedi Kyle’s book, The Art of the Fold. Black cloth covered hard covers, with endpapers from a dwindling hoard of Black Ink metallic marbled papers from 1990s. The spacer bar is covered, laminated book board, added to square up the thickness of the book.
Editions book 9, 10, 11, and 12 will be available for sale soon.
I’m so excited about the edition of books I’m working on now. This makes … uh … three different variable editions of manuscript books I’m working on at the moment. Ain’t it great!
The first seven of this 12-book edition are going to my book exchange group so I won’t show the whole thing just yet. But they’ll be going in the mail in about 10 days, so stay tuned for more after that.
Oh, all right. I’m too enthusiastic about it to be totally discreet. Here’s a sneak peek at the text block.
I would love to visit Pigment Tokyo! An artist dream of color. The scale is dizzying, and the design intimidatingly slick. They claim to carry over 4,200 pigment colors, more than 200 antique ink sticks, and 50 animal glues.
And the brushes …!
When I visit New York City, I try to get by to Kremer Pigments. It’s more like an apothecary of color, and I love it.
Last month, I was amused to read this Slate article by Rachel Adler, entitled, “The 19th Century Moral Panic Over … Paper Technology”. The subtitle is this: “Before Snapchat and Instagram ruined young people, there was cheap paper.”
The article states that a 500-folio page could sell for 30 florins in 1422, but that by the 1470s that price could be 10 florins. I wondered what this meant in terms of purchasing power. A little unsubstantiated googling seems to indicate that a gold florin (equivalent to a ducat in Venice) was worth 117 soldi. Only big purchases employed florins, and you can see why: manual laborers were paid only 8 soldi per yer, and mason were paid 15 soldi per year. that architect of the Florence cathedral made 100 florins per year, and that city houses ranged in price from 200 to 3500 florins.
But in the 19th century, the price went down some more, thanks to major developments in print and paper technologies. Rachel Adler writes:
Books remained, however, far outside the range of the common man or woman, until the price plummeted once again in the 19th century. No longer was literacy necessarily a signifier of wealth, class, and status. This abrupt change created a moral panic as members of the traditional reading classes argued over who had the right to information—and what kind of information ought to be available at all.