special books

In the age of rampant electronic development, handmade books seem so contemplative, tactile, and necessary. I love handmade books and book artists (you know who you are; velma, lindsey, julia, and jean just to name a few). I have several lovingly created journals. They sit in a stack on my desk and I often leaf through them and touch their covers. None of them have been used by me. My scribbles and doodles doesn't seem worthy of their beauty. I am simply afraid to mess them up...


My fabric covered moleskine books were born from this fear. Somehow it seems less precious to write in a journal that can be replaced. I love making these covers, especially the eco dyed ones. Each of them becomes a small piece of art that can come along in my purse.

But now I am dreaming of making other books, more like the one we made in India's class this summer (pictured above). A book with surprises hidden among its pages; a pressed leaf, a charcoal rubbing, fabric pages, and small pockets. Maybe even a scribble or two...