It’s been hard to make up my mind about LAMB and how I want to share it. The main problem is that it’s a book that I wrote and bound, but you can’t read it because it isn’t finished and I only made five copies. The problem, my teacher remarked, is that everyone will want to read and feel this lil’ suede-covered number — something I sorely wish for and have spent years anticipating — but scarcity is baked in to the edition.
How did I end up here? I needed something for the end-of-year exhibition of my master’s program. So I thought, maybe I could go to the bookbinding workshop, learn a new craft, and use it as an opportunity to formalize my book. It was supposed to be a fun way to finish out my first year. Print and bind the book you’ve been pouring your soul into since 2020. The content becomes an excuse for an exercise in materiality, and the materiality becomes an excuse to complete a version I can stand behind. LAMB is what came out.
I ended up working with a graphic design student named Mark Sauter, who devised the entire graphic concept, did the layout, and made the cover. Mark was a joy to work with, and watching him learn and hone his skill was humbling. With Mark, I witnessed the labor of justifying paragraphs, tiptoed around strenuous relationships with printers, and experienced the pleasure of a beautiful spread.
Next thing I knew (many agonizing months later), I found myself watching my baby fly out of the printer on biblically thin cream-colored high-gloss paper that feels like the pages of the New Yorker. Bone in hand, I slid folds into my four-bifolia sections and pierced the resulting quaternions three times with my awl. I sat at the bench with the thick needle and waxed linen thread, weaving the quaternions together. After Mark choose, cut, and assembled the right card stock to make the structure of the cover, we smeared lye over my suede, into which the title is laser cut, and stretched it over the card. If you use something thick, like leather or suede, for your cover, the last step is to tap the corners with a little hammer. While this dried, I turned to the cutting machine. I didn’t know how emotional I would get when LAMB came out, its true shape, weight, and size.
I only bound five copies because the suede comes from a knee-length skirt my partner’s aunt was getting rid of, and five is all the skirt could manage. Although the plan was never to make a huge edition, a part of me regrets not having more. The other part of me is glad, because I am not finished with this book. A mentor quoted Johanna Hedva, saying you only put your writing “into the water” when it is ready to be. LAMB doesn’t feel ready. At the same time, it’s more ready than it has ever been, I am desperate to share it, and there is a physical copy I could place into someone’s hand!
This is why I felt it would be weird to not write a post about it. But what is there to say? One thing is that I made a book from head to toe, and it was a magical encounter with something I thought I knew intimately but had never experienced this way. Two is I don’t know what to do next. I could send this version, along with a pitch, to publishing houses. I could rewrite this version, and then shop it. I could send this version to people in the field - agents, even? - and get advice about where to go from here. My dad suggested I write something else and then come back to it, which sounds wise and like the last thing I feel like doing.
Indeed, the process taught me that writing and binding the book itself is Part One. Part Two is figuring out how to share it — a craft in its own right. When I finished physically making this edition, I thought I was done with the project. My plan for the installation was to put it somewhere in the gallery, on a table next to a chair perhaps, and let people read it if they felt like it. The same teacher insisted I come up with a better plan for something I had, you know, poured my soul into. I ended up finding a lush carpet on ebay kleinanzeigen and sewing the bookmark ribbons to it. Mark found a prayer stool in a back room and I bought some ikea cushions, and BAM, a little reading station.
I was really pleased with the result.
And I suppose the lesson extends to the publishing process, or everything that needs to happen before I finally let LAMB into the water.
In the meantime, I’m reading from LAMB on Friday the 23rd at New Fears gallery on Reichenburgerstr., if you are in Berlin and want to come by. Doors at 18. The evening of performances is called SHARE YOUR BEAR - maybe you’ve seen the flyer on insta? I will probably read the parts about dancing in Berlin. Should be 20 minutes max. I’m first in the line up, followed by Camila Malenchini’s new work in progress. There will also be work by Maque, Kiana Rezvani, and Dominikii. I would be happy to see you there!
Lastly, look at how angelic Mark the graphic designer is!!
Thanks for reading,
Louise
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