Making ends meet

On the hunt again. This time, for endpapers. You know, the papers pasted into the front and back of books. Specifically, antique endpapers. With any kind of pattern from marbled to narrative to floral. The worse shape they're in, the better, since they're being cut up for a big new collage project: a Victorian crazy quilt made entirely of paper.

The hope is that that in the end, it will look similar to the quilt above, a fabric family heirloom belonging to my friend Mary Heider. Since Victorian women used the overlooked scraps from other sewing projects as their material (waste not, want not), it seemed that endpapers would be appropriate. Some look like fabric. Some look quite luxurious. Others are drab. Of course, they also are papers with a past, another reason to use them.

The point is to mix them up willy nilly (not as easy as it seems for an artist used to putting things in order) on the quilt. Then, to embellish and embroider it to the nth degree.

It started with this block of pieces glued onto book cloth. Book cloth was picked, because I knew it would adhere to paper well, would be easy to sew through, and I wanted some kind of fabric in the piece. But the backing has since been switched to rice paper, in keeping with the all paper theme. Different glues are being used depending on the endpaper: PVA, gel medium, even some double backed tape.  

Here are close ups of two more squares … on the top one, you can see what I mean about papers that look like fabric. On the bottom one, an antique embroidery pattern from Peterson's magazines is inserted. At the bottom are more antique embroidery patterns that will be used in place of traditional embroidered ones. I searched my archive specifically for patterns printed with faux stitching.    

Once the individual blocks are finished, there will be 12 or 20, then the crazy embroidery begins. For it, I'm using vintage embroidery thread that belonged to my late mother. It will be my winter project. Then, the decision comes whether to join the blocks together to make one "quilt" or to hang them separately (but very close to one another) on cradled wood panels.

The exhibition this is being made for is a solo exhibit of my work titled "Remnants" that opens mid-June at the Loveland Museum in Loveland, CO.

Marbled madness

Recently, I purchased a stack of antique books at the winter warehouse sale of the Friends of Cincinnati's library. I kept my focus on the grungiest and largest books in the "collectibles" section, and found some of my favorites: atlases, cyclopedias, engineering manuals. They are chock full of wonderful illustrations, diagrams, etc.

For me, a wonderful bonus in such books is the endpapers - the pages at the front and back of a book. Antique books frequently had marbled endpapers, which I use often in collages (if you are thinking of pitching old books, let me know if they have cool endpapers, because I'm always looking for more). Here's a peek at three of the endpapers I found, and below them, a few images that show how endpapers have been used in my collages …

From "The Living World," Samuel Walker & Co. (1880) 

From "The Century Dictionary & Encyclopedia, Vol X:
The Century Atlas of the World" (1904)

From "Engineering: An Illustrated Weekly Journal,
Vol. CXXXVII - Jan.-June 1934." London.

In "Plate 25," the endpaper serves as a table cloth.

The entire foreground of "Take Me Away:1"
and "Take Me Away: 2" is an endpaper
 from a 1920s edition of "Pinocchio."

"Classic 14-Layer Marble Cake" is a tower of marbled
papers, half of which are endpapers. 

The Lass With The Delicate Air

I matted this collage the other day, so thought I'd post it. It began as a test in adding a mitered border, something picked up in a bookmaking workshop. The border is made from antique endpapers, which I clip from books soon after buying them and now put in an archival sleeve with the name, date & publisher of the book attached. Now being the operative word there! The butterflies were cut from a recycled wrapping paper sample square and the flower is an antique print.

The girl is an illustration from the Chatterbox, which along with St. Nicholas, is among my favorite 19th/early 20th century children's magazines. I blew the image up a few of times on a photocopier, because I was thinking of turning her into a rubber stamp. Still might. After that was done, I painted her with watercolors. Oh, almost forgot to mention the sheet music that gives the piece the title: yes, it's a vintage page. {SOLD}

Note: just found a Time magazine feature about the cherished Christmas annuals that British magazines published that also touches on the history of the Chatterbox.

Spring

This is one in a series of long, narrow collages that are part of an effort to try new shapes and sizes, and to - literally - make my work grow. It's a mixed-media piece that includes a vintage book jacket, hand-made lace painted with acrylics, a postcard back, an image transfer (bird in nest); and antique embroidery engravings at top and bottom from Peterson's Magazine. I'm wrestling with presenting these, that is, whether to mat them or make them wall hangings. 4.5" x 11.5" on canvas.

Dream house: before & after

This collage on paper took off from the central image of the doll's house, which came from an elementary school art manual published in 1905 by Prang Educational Co. I strive to use images out of copyright, which I own the rights to or which someone has given me permission to use. This was an attempt at layering - and there are quite a few, composed of vintage geological survey maps, endpapers,   engravings, diagrams and, topping it off, a section from a vintage yard stick. 

The original (top), excluded the girl (below). She was added at the request of the client. I was unsure about the addition. I wrestled with various images until landing on her. In the end, she adds a touch of humanity to a work that was a bit sterile. She also opens up thoughts - at least in my mind - of daydreaming and gender roles, which were only hinted at via the "residence for Mr. & Mrs." label in the top left corner.