O

Obama For a change the morning-after feeling was one of immense relief. It's nice to have hope (see) again. Now comes the hard part. "On (Design) Bullshit" is collected in Seventy-nine Short Essays on Design by Michael Bierut (highly readable, even for us non-designers): "In discussing design work with their clients, designers are direct about the functional parts of their solutions and obfuscate like mad about the intuitive parts, having learned early on that telling the simple truth – "I don't know, I just like it that way" – simply won't do. So into this vacuum rushes the bullshit: theories … unprovable claims.…" And in describing artists' books? Certainly, not, certainly, not. On-line Catalog: A new quarterly adventure for us. A completely different experience than our usual way of working.

P

The Palouse: A favorite drive, much anticipated each fall, takes us through this marvelous region of Eastern Washington into Northeastern Oregon. It's generally the first day of the homeward leg of our annual autumn trip, a trip that keeps us away for 5 to 6 weeks. After an extended time of almost daily stops and calls across the country and up the West Coast, the day of constant driving through the rolling hills and prairies of Washington wheat fields and into Oregon's Wallowa Mountain region is otherworldly yet restful. We're headed home.

Q

Questions most asked: Four are regulars each year: What's an artists' book? Any interest in my book? Why haven't I heard from you? When will I get paid? In other words: You make a living doing what? Why haven't you been selling my book? Are you keeping my money? Where's the check? New this year: How's the economy affecting you? Response to the last: While the economy has been slow catching up to us (guess: institutions were still working with funds allocated before the latest meltdown) we'll be affected like everyone else. Some places won't see us until the smoke has cleared; at the very least we expect cautious buying. It won't change our basic approach. The pendulum will swing back, or it won't.

R

Radical Art: "The truly radical work of art is the one that offers you something to hold on to in the midst of the flux of possibility." (Robert Hughes, Things I Didn't Know) Rock 'n' Roll: The American Conservatory Theater (San Francisco) loves Tom Stoppard, and hence gets a look and perhaps a visit any time we're in town. In September we saw Rock 'n' Roll., Stoppard's typically chunky mélange of disparate topics: developments in Czechoslovakia from the Prague Spring to the Velvet Revolution, Pink Floyd and Syd Barrett, brain science, the Plastic People of the Universe, Sappho's poetry, and much more. As always with Stoppard, the play, in the many senses of the word, whizzed by. The music, history, and thought were often way outside our ken and taste, but that is what Stoppard at his best does – he stretches us, and makes us want to stretch even more. When seen in a skilled production, it's not unlike an artists' book as performance piece.

S

Serendipity: Our affection for and dependence on serendipity has not changed. We love, believe in, and can attest to the power of serendipity in our lives. We embrace it every day. Sock It to Me Truth and humor so often coexist. "Sometimes words came easy; sometimes … the effort was like straining shit through a sock." (Robert Hughes, Things I Didn't Know) Today is one such day, but you already knew that. Something for Nothing: Why is this such a prevalent ethos?

T

Tires or testicles: Rita Mae Brown's mother's words of wisdom: "If it's got tires or testicles, it's gonna be trouble." Trust, or a little hand: Walking in the murk of dusk with his 9-year-old granddaughter alongside the Reflecting Pool after her first visit to the Lincoln Memorial, Bill was mumbling mumbling mumbling, trying to describe (not even explain) slavery and the Civil War. Frustrated more than usual by blatant ineloquence, he felt a small mittened hand reach up and take his. Are we worthy of such trust?

U

Umbrella (1978-2008): The last issue appeared this fall. The most exciting movement in nature is not progress or advancement, it is expansion and contraction – the opening and closing of the heart, the eye, the hand, the mind. The closed umbrella will be opened again and again. Rest in peace. [see Judith Hoffberg] Untie! Bad spellers of the world – untie! (graffiti).

V

Van: Our traveling gallery is a 2006 Dodge Grand Caravan, which began service at the end of August 2006 and (we hope) will serve us another year.  With all seats removed except for the driver’s and front passenger's, it holds 10 wheeled suitcases full of bookworks, a few items too large for  the cases, and enough clothes to get us by for a month or two at a time. As of the last day of 2008 it was approaching 92,000 miles. Victoria: Our older granddaughter (age 10) – on the cusp of everything, the artist, give her a project and stand aside. Victories, small: Often these are the things that make a day, the things no one else sees or cares about: finding a parking place; finally remembering to get in the correct lane on a Los Angeles freeway because you've made the mistake too many times before; getting all the books back into the cases without too much left over.

W

Jeanette Winterson once asked a friend with a good wine cellar how she could learn about wine. The simple reply: "Drink it." Does this work for artists' books? Only if you realize the answer must be "Play with them" and not just "Look at them." We don't believe that seeing them behind glass, or in a catalog, or in an image (in a book or on the web) qualifies. Artists' books must be handled; the learning is in that experience. Finding a place where you can handle artists' books is not easy. At best, the playing is under a watchful eye. This is one reason many people don't know what an artists' book is. How could they know? How to deal with this situation … is yet another question.

X

Xenodocheionology = love of hotels. This is a stretch, yes, but despite spending half the year in some form of hotel, we don't consider ourselves xenodocheionologists. The road trip has its appeals, but getting home to the familiar lumps in the mattress, the mold that grows in the humid South whether you are there to watch it or not, the overgrown side yard that is always next year's project, and a closet full of forgotten concerns is special. For at least a week or two.

Y
Yahrzeit: Jewish remembrance of the anniversary of someone's death. Light a candle for Gloria Helfgott. Yaff, yeuk, yex, and yikker: respectively, to bark like a snarling dog, to itch, to hiccup or belch, and to utter sharp little cries. This is the prescription for or a description of a rough day of togetherness. [see BRIS]

Z

Zealots of all stripes, hamstrung by doctrine, make the world a less pleasant place. The difference between passion laced with commitment and stiff-necked dogma may be one of degree, but it's a vital degree. And how easy it is to join the tribe: I hate all bigots, I do, I do, I do. Zoup! Discovered in Ann Arbor, this upper Midwest chain serves, as the name suggests, a bevy of soups. It's fitting to end with food, because finding decent food on the road is a daily challenge. And – one of us gets very, very, very cranky if not fed, and fed on time.

There is nothing you must have,

And nothing you must know.

There is nothing you must do

And nothing you must become.

But it helps

To know that fire burns,

And when it rains, the earth gets wet.

?

Thanks for 2008
May your life have laughter and hope in 2009

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