Shifu Study Group

Photos from my Paper Threadmaking Explorations I taught to the Cincinnati Book Art Society Study Group where we tried 15 different papers I purchased from Suder‘s Art Store in Cincinnati. Thanks to Susan Byrd, who taught us all about the Art of Shifu (cloth woven with paper thread) and the how to make paper thread at her lecture at the Cincinnati Art Museum and her workshop in Cincinnati on March 4, 5.

 

 

Using Acrylic Medium in Artist Books

Cody Goodin gave an excellent presentation “Using Acrylic Mediums in Artist’s Books” for the Cincinnati Books Arts Society Study Group 5/13 at the CBAS Studio. Thanks to his connections at Plaza Artist Materials in Cincinnati we had a number of Golden Acrylic products to experiment with in the class.

Inspired, Naturally!

If you missed the Valentine to Nature show at the Cincinnati Nature Center last winter, you can see much of the work on display at the Clifton Cultural Arts Center show, Naturally Inspired.

If you did see the Nature Center show, come to the new one anyway. There are many new and different works by CBAS members. The change in exhibition space makes for an entirely new-to-you show. Naturally Inspired is much larger, with plenty more wall space for non-book art.

The range is impressive. I had to look up words such as collagraph and kozo. This is usually the case for any CBAS show — everyone comes at book arts from a different perspective. Members are photographers, bookbinders, painters, textile artists, sculptors, weavers, writers, poets, paper makers, etc. This is a unique combination of talents you won’t find anywhere else in town.

A cool thing about the opening was that many of the artists were present. They answered questions and discussed the history of CBAS. If you missed it, fear not — the show runs thru June 2.

“Crossroads” by Mary Jo Flamm-Miller

“Elephant Walk” by Judy Folkenburg

“Grow” by Cecie Chewning

“Leaf” by Anne Skove

“Soar Portfolio” by Carol Lang

Book Review: Hold Still

There is nothing better than the thrill of holding a great negative, wet with fixer, up to the light. And, here’s the important thing: it doesn’t even have to be a great negative. You get the same thrill with any negative; with art, as someone once said, most of what you have to do is show up. The hardest part is setting the camera on the tripod, or making the decision to bring the camera out of the car, or just raising the camera to your face, believing, by those actions, that whatever you find before you, whatever you find there, is going to be good. — Sally Mann

 

When was the last time you traveled through a book, pencil in hand, underlining and note-making? This is how I made the journey through Hold Still by Sally Mann.

The book instantly took me back to my years living in Lexington, Virginia. This book has people and places that are known to anyone who has lived there. My husband worked in the public library that Mann’s mother helped establish. The Maury River, Goshen Pass, and Natural Bridge all make appearances. The two schools, VMI and W&L, figure prominently, as they so often do in a town populated by fewer natives than students and come-heres. The southern sense of place, not to mention the photographer’s sense of place, is strong. Even if you have never visited Lexington, you will get a strong vision of it from Hold Still.

Mann is as completely absorbed with the past as the rest of her hometown is. In a place where one can visit General Lee’s hairbrush or Stonewall Jackson’s (now stuffed) horse, Traveler, it’s easy to get the sense that nothing is really ever over.

Mann, too, can’t seem to let anything from the past go. In some instances this is important — she does not let the mystery of racial history escape her lens, and the effect is powerful. Her stories about growing up with household help could have been a fine book in itself.

But, I had to wonder whether Mann thinks any part of her self is original. Can our every quirk and tendency be traced back to our ancestors? Mann, like Lexington, seems to believe this. In all memoirs, the past and present are necessarily cojoined. To what extent must they be? For Mann, it seems, past and present are two manifestations of the same thing.

This is a photography book, by and about a photographer. While many CBAS members are experts at this, I remain in awe of this hyper-technical art form. Anything more complicated than watercolors and a brush makes me nervous. Thus, I was a bit baffled by parts of Mann’s in-depth discussions about her craft. Yet, these passages were not a deterrent for me, and less Ludditey readers will find them fascinating.

As for the photos themselves, many are well-known Mann pieces. I wish my handheld paperback were physically larger. The photos aren’t as visible in my paperback copy as they would be in a larger art book.

Sally Mann does not shy away from death. On the contrary, she tends to focus on it, bringing it closer than is comfortable, as photographers do with all subjects. By definition, memoirs are never really complete. We learn so much about Mann’s children and other family in this book. What we don’t learn is that her son Emmett died after this book was written. If that is a spoiler or trigger warning, so be it — Mann does such fine work confronting death here. Her father, her dog, a stranger from town who wandered onto her property, all sorts of Southern relics, and decomposing bodies in Tennessee all serve as studies in death.

This being the world, we know more death will come to everyone. What art will spring from Mann’s worst pain of all, the loss of her son, whose birth she photographed?

The Annual Meeting!

April 2 was the date of the first CBAS annual meeting in the new Essex space. You can see how shiny it is from Anjali‘s picture:

What do CBAS people do when they get together? They eat tasty food! Oh, and make books. Here are the materials:

Aaaannnndddd, here’s a finished product!

Sweet!

Couldn’t make it? (I couldn’t.) See you next year! If you can’t wait that long, stop by a study group or other event.