Under a Cold North Sky - a book of snow and ice

 

Long dark winter months, with an absence of the usual diversions.

Trying to keep busy. These have not been easy days for many. A short interlude for Christmas, and then back to very quiet times.

Covid days.

Time to make a book. Always a happy diversion.

This one was created for the Instagram #areyoubookenough challenge on the topic of frozen. The challenge was started in 2017 by the book artist Sarah Maker, and brings together book artists from all around the world.

I have many images of snow and ice, and many happy memories of trips north, so the topic of 'frozen' had instant appeal.

A dive into my hard drive seemed like a good a place to start.

I searched for 'ice' and 'snow'. Up popped many images that are long forgotten.

Images from Iceland, Greenland, Finland, Yukon and Norway.  Some of the places that I am missing the most.




Firstly, a small fragment of ice from Disko Bay. Ice that has made its way down a glacier, and then broken into fragments as it fall into the icy water of Disko Bay; an iceberg graveyard.

Greenlandic ice fragment

Crystals of watery ice from a glacier.

glacial ice formation

Broken ice from a grassy puddle. This from Lofoten, where I was attracted by the texture of the snow crushed grass.

Grassy ice puddle

There are tiny fragments, and wide views. It is the juxtaposition of scale that I enjoyed when making this book.

Lofoten mountains

Initially I  printed out many small images.
I  then experimented with different combinations and juxtapositions.
Some images were rejected, as they didn't work with the others, or were just too ambiguous.

Icy reflections from Disko Bay were tempting to include, but the water was not actually frozen, so these were rejected.

Icy water in Disko Bay

 

 

 

 

 

 

mini prints for layout experiments

 

 

For the start of the book I chose images of snow falling at night, and a lump of ice. The raw elements of icy landscapes.

I remember vividly standing under a lampost in Finland capturing snow falling in the early evening, the snow lit by the artificial light; blowing around wildly in the wind.

falling snow

glacial ice

Then I moved through gradually larger landscapes, trying to find pairings that complemented each other.

Grass and ice.

Black on white, white on black.

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A 'landscape' of ice crystals on snow beside a tree in a field.


The images are printed on bamboo paper 110gsm, made into a concertina. The hard cover is covered with a Lotka polka dot paper in black and white. Lotka paper is Nepalese, and is easy to fold around the cover of a book.

'Under a Cold North Sky' - concertina book

'Under a Cold North Sky' - front cover

I don't know when spontaneous travel will be possible again. My plans to return northwards in February are very likely to be thwarted.

But as soon as I am able, I will be heading in that direction once more.

 

You can see a slideshow of all the images here

Paper, paper everywhere at the Takeo paper show 'Subtle'.

Subtle

My other half is away, working.

Dealing with heavy rain in the desert.

Most put out he is. He was planning a lie down on the beach after work.

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While he is away, I am having a paper fest.

It is too cold to work in my studio, so I am staying put in suburbia and converting the house into a papery haven. Paper all over my study floor, the kitchen table, and the floor.

It has made me realise how much I can achieve when there are no distractions.

I am churning out small books by the handful. Trying out differrent shapes and covers for my current project of a book on the subject 'Translation' for the Instagram #areyoubookenough monthly challenge.


First I tried making a panel book , but decided it was a case of structure taking precedence over content.

panel book

Next a pearl drop binding and conventional pages.

I liked the minimalistic style of the cover, but the inside was a mess.

messy book

I am working with images of sunlight on water.

When I told OH ( my other half) that I am working on an abstract book, his reply was a groan of despair......

which is why it is better that he is far away.

I called the initial versions 'Lost in Translation', for the sunlight scribbles are not possible to read. I think of it as asemic script ( a form of abstract text).


Later a phrase popped into my head 'So said the Sun'.

And I realised that if I used selected parts in small circles of 'text' (like the sun) I could make it appear more like a written text.

I experimented with horizontal and vertical patterns.

So Said the Sun

So now I am working on this idea, and hope to refine it further. A concertina feels more appropriate, and I am trying to find some finer paper that will be slightly translucent, and yet be accepted by my temperamental printer.

In the midst of all this fun I took a research break to the Takeo paper show 'Subtle' at Japan House in London.

And what a treat it was. Perfectly timed for this project.

An elegant, extraordinary show exploring the word subtle in relation to paper and ordinary life. Accompanying this are luxurious photographs of paper by Ueda Yoshihiko.

paper fan and photograph by Ueda Yoshihiko

A selection of pale pink papers by Miyata Yumiyo reminded me of babies and powder puffs.

'Something like a necklace connected sharing a light contact' by Miyata Yumiyo

Moulded pulp packaging for Parisian cakes.

Probably very expensive cakes...

moulded pulp packaging

Then the tiniest paper 'Chocolate's Hats' by Hara Kenya.

So delicate that their shadow was easier to see than the paper itself.

Like plankton floating on a sea of white.

Japanese calligraphy by Ishikawa Kyuyo.

Initially I thought the lines were created by thread. But it is all ink on paper.

by Ishikawa Kyuyo

Wakana 1 by Ishikawa Kyuyo

In his transcription of “The Tale of Genji”, Ishikawa recorded the “vibration” of  every letter of 55 chapters across the page in a single line as if it was actually pronounced.

He is said to be feeling the words with his brush, across the page.

A very personal interpretation of an ancient text.




 Next a very zen single sheet of paper on a lacquer tray.

White paper symbolises the signal of a new beginning, where the person using it begins something.

I found this all very calming.

When did you last open a handwritten envelope.

And why does a diamond seam have more prestige than a straight one?

Sealing envelopes and then opening them are irreversible acts. As is folding a sheet of paper.

Not something I had ever really considered before.

But obvious really....

Suitably amazed by all of these delicate paper creations I made my way home determined to make my book much much better than it is right now.


Perfection takes time.

Tomorrow is another day.

And I have some new ideas.

paper at Japan House © caroline fraser