Category Archives: Handmade Books

Simple Pleasures

 

Each year on July 4th we celebrate with my family at my parent’s house in Hanford, California. It is the closest thing to summer and holidays that I remember from my childhood. Lots of relatives, lots of food, lots of people talking all at once. Add a pool to jump into, fresh apricots, peaches and plums ripe to perfection and, really, I think it is as good as it gets.

Sitting in a folding chair on the sidewalk while the kids lined up the fireworks for the show and my husband acted as master of ceremonies, I couldn’t help but reminisce about the simple pleasures of my childhood. Fireworks are still one of my favorite things. Not only do I love the colors and the oohs and aahs, but I also associate them block parties, family, and with my dad – he and I used to light a few ahead of time in our backyard on the evenings leading up to the big day.

Now I am thankful that my niece and nephew can enjoy the same simple pleasure. A tradition that takes place away from the televisions and computers that dominate so much of their interests. For a few hours they get to enjoy the same bonding with their family that we had. Even in their much more experienced eyes, fireworks are magic and worth moving away from the screen.

I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of those beautiful sparks erupting in a spray through the darkness. Or of the joy I hear in everyone’s exclamations. And I hope that these kids will make the effort to create this experience when they have families of their own.

We can’t do fireworks in San Jose any more. We have to drive three hours to enjoy this simple pleasure from our childhood. I wonder, will it be this way with books? Almost daily I read this debate on the newsgroups I belong to. Artists, bookbinders, librarians –  we all wonder, is the paper book going to be replaced by the iPad, Kindle and smart phone?

Will we have to drive three hours to find a library that still has paper books? Will this generation of kids be reading bedtime stories to their children from an electronic screen? Or, worse, will the screens  be reading the bedtime stories so the parents don’t have to? Usually when I think about the future of books I am considering the classics, artists’ books, or books of historical significance. But this weekend, when my focus was on the memories we help create for children, I began to wonder about the future of books in those memories.

~Ginger

www.gingerburrell.com

My First Anxiety Dream about Art

I love dreams. I’ve been blessed with amazingly creative dreams for as long as I can remember. One of my favorites was when I was swimming the backstroke down Santa Teresa Boulevard — only there was no water.

Most of my dreams are interesting and thought provoking, but sometimes I wake up stressed instead of rested. I have reoccurring anxiety dreams, you probably do, too.

Until last night my anxiety dreams were one of two variations:

Variation 1: I go to the university to take a final and either I haven’t studied or I go to the wrong lecture hall or I go too late and the final is over.

Variation 2: I am back at the preschool that I ran for 10 years and I’m working through some personal trauma with one of the teachers or there are no teachers and I’m trying to take care of all the kids by myself or there is some threat to the school and/or children that is out of my control.

Last night, for the first time, I had an artist anxiety dream. I’m not sure if this is good (maybe only “real” artists have anxiety dreams – the “real” being a discussion for a whole other blog) or bad (now I have three variations, darn!)

The dream went something like this: I have been invited to have a solo show at a gallery. I’m thrilled, of course, and I work very hard on the books, the display, and the installation. I get it all done and installed and it’s opening night. All of a sudden, before anyone can see my work, the building sprinklers go off and, as I watch in horror, my artists’ books become a ruined, soggy, mess.

Hmm.

I know where the solo show idea came from. I’ve spent the last several days applying to gallery shows. But I have no idea why I didn’t try to move, cover or otherwise protect the books.

Do you have art anxiety dreams? Feel free to post them in the comments!

~Ginger

www.gingerburrell.com

I’m Telling You Now – An Artists’ Book about Violence against Women

As one of the 1 in 4 women who will experience sexual violence in their lifetimes, I am a survivor of rape. I tell my story because it is not a secret. I did nothing wrong and if I tell you then we share the responsibility and the weight of it. I don’t have to shoulder it by myself any longer.

When I decided to explore the topic of violence against women for my BFA show, I didn’t know what to expect. It is not a pleasant topic. It is stressful for me to talk about, to make art about, even to write this blog about. But it is important. Period.

I’m Telling You Now emphasizes the power of secrets and the way that we keep them because of the shame and the fear that we were somehow responsible.

I admit, there are tears running down my face, but they are not for what happened to me, instead they are for the experience I had when sharing this book.  What happened during my BFA show opening was beyond anything I could have imagined. Women came up to me and told me their stories, right there, in the gallery. Women called me days later and told me their stories. They said things like, “I’ve never told anyone, but I know you will understand.”  And what I realized in those moments was that by telling each other our stories we were taking away the power of the people who hurt us. Secrets are so powerful and they continue to hurt the people who keep them. More than one woman has since said, “I want you to tell my story.” In the future I hope to make artists’ books together with other women to tell their stories – perhaps in a gallery project. 

I’m Telling You Now has had several iterations. This is the final version, I’m ready to release it out into the world. It is an edition of 10.

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~Ginger

www.gingerburrell.com