It’s almost May, and for weeks now, green has crept along the edges, slowly tickling my senses with a vibrancy dancing just beyond perception. Until, in a moment after the rain, or with a sudden realization in the bright afternoon sunshine, I become aware of the verdant carpet at my feet, whose reawakened blades reach upward with vernal ardor. And I too, have been coaxed outdoors to exult in the first warmth of the season.
This is all to say, that winter is over, and a blog post is long over-due.
But, before even the promise of warmth, when the frozen skies were painted in faded pale washes, and the sun cast an impotent light, I got to spend one entire weekend to myself. This may not appear at first glance the triumph that it truly is, but laden with life’s responsibilities, opportunities of this type do not come along often. And, I found myself for the first time in perhaps 13 years neither answerable to, nor responsible for anyone.
I lingered in those four days, loading them with as much generative activity as I could balance with much-needed solitary reflection. Wanting to have a tangible result, and very excited about working with leather in bookbinding, I undertook to learn a traditional binding, sewn on raised cords with real headbands.
I won’t bore you with details of the step-by-step process; rather, leave you with pictures of the end result. And, the quiet hope that this abbreviated artist retreat will become an annual tradition.