Casing in books has a bittersweet tone about it. It means the book is getting made and almost done but it's also a critical ballet between keeping it clean, straight and openable. I take a deep breath before every one. Constantly rubbing my gluey fingers on my apron and using plenty of waste paper for masking off the fresh pages. Muttering a running commentary or singing the same line from the same song over and over like a bookbinder's mantra. (today it's The Boxer from Simon and Garfunkel "O I am just a poor boy, my story's seldom told")
My desk is not organised at all, I start off with great intentions, clean mind, clean desk, clean hands and I find myself working in greater and greater chaos with my working space becoming smaller and smaller until I find I am working in a single square foot with piles of tools, scraps of paper and I can't find one of my six scalpels.
Then when it's all done I have a big clear up and cannot allow myself even one moment of satisfaction until this is done and then when I am back to some kind of space I sit and sign all the ones that are finished.
Then I go into the garden and listen to the birds also singing their one line over and over and I think, none of this really matters at all. I'm just glad I am here today. And tomorrow there will be another song.
Please God, don't make it an annoying one.
Casing in books has a bittersweet tone about it. It means the book is getting made and almost done but it's also a critical ballet between keeping it clean, straight and openable. I take a deep breath before every one. Constantly rubbing my gluey fingers on my apron and using plenty of waste paper for masking off the fresh pages. Muttering a running commentary or singing the same line from the same song over and over like a bookbinder's mantra. (today it's The Boxer from Simon and Garfunkel "O I am just a poor boy, my story's seldom told")
