at work

what goes on during my year as apprentice to Robin Price, Printer and Publisher

Remember Your Ticket For Travel

The trees around the pond aren’t bare, the view has totally changed. The transitions that happen between the seasons are subtle, elusive, and suddenly hit you all at once it you aren’t careful (or so busy at work you find yourself surprised as if overnight the algae on the pond bloomed, the turtles have unearthed themselves and are sunbathing and the light, having grown longer, reaches through the translucent green of new leaves, almost blinding you when you start driving home at the end of the day).

Last Wednesday, RP and I celebrated the opening of our exhibition as the Buttonwood Tree is downtown Middletown. This event was kind of sneaky the way spring tends to be, and all the work of preparation was suddenly upon us and felt like a distraction from our work on Love in the TIme of War. But alas, it all proved to be worth it when we got to put everything up on the wall and share it with people that have supported this project from the very beginning. It was a great way to stop and look back, and think about everything that has happened creatively over the past year, and begin to move forward with the process of winding my time here at the Mill down. The whole process has given me new focus.

Look out Metro North Railroad.

And here is the book as it stands—a tall pile of dyed silk, freshly trimmed and ready for printing! That stack represents all the hours of October, November, December, January, February, March, April and May 1-10.

To CODEX and back again *hinterland

Lots of Inspiration has happened between the huge blizzard and the trip to the West coast for CODEX.

And to report on CODEX, some images by Yamamoto Masao that I saw in a book published by 21st Editions. I feel like I never can get a good enough look at these fairs. This book made a deep impression. I wanted to go back and look again. I do enjoy meeting people (especially German Herrera, A future RP collaborator. We ate a delicious Japanese meal and talked about experience etching pathways in the brain), there is a nice sense of community around this kind of making. At the same time, it can be overwhelming to be in a room with so many people showing their work. The crane Pavillion was right on the Marina in Richmond, it was mostly glass, and intensely sun-drenched all day long. It was nice to sit and watch people milling around, looking carefully, and boats just passing by outside. I began to realize a lot of the work I was drawn to was photo-based and began wondering why in the world I haven’t started working on a book yet…Perhaps I am intimidated by choosing the right content, but I realize how much I enjoy looking at the beautiful  presentation of self-contained images and how language, the sequence of words or phrases, a walk or a dream can be contained and expanded in the form of the book. 







more of his work here:


Graham Watson /  Transect: 14 July 2007 


Ian Whitmore / Otiose is a typological exploration of homogenous and  uninspiring forms that litter our civic environments. Is there a laziness and naivety in the notion that uniformity of space and environment requires blatant, inane repetition? Can these same environments not be collected and unified more creatively? 


Tricia Treacy / Old Movies

During the great blizzard I though about what a useful even it was, artistically. Not only was it time where everything else stopped but suddenly there was material and making all around. To me, It was opportunity. RP took this fantastic photo of the Garden behind the mill and I think it just stands for itself. 


And finally, the fortune of living on a college campus, where I can go to free film series and learn about a poet I had never heard of and watch a movie about her life full of unrequited love and a home found in writing. 

About Myself
Leah Goldberg
My seasons are etched in my verse
As a tree’s are in its rings
As my years are in furrowed skin.

I have no hard words—
To hamper my visions.
My images
Are as clear as a church’s window.
Through them
One can see
The changes in the light outside
How my loves
Like dead birds fall
From the sky.

fantastic colophon showed to me by RP

fantastic colophon showed to me by RP

mad scientists

The studio has become a chemistry lab.

We are dyeing silk sheets for Love in the Time of War,not such a simple task really.

We are using walnut stain, which contains peat, RP and I both think it’s the perfect pigment for the pages of this book, but it has been tricky to get it to stick. This part of the process alone has taught affirmed a very important thing;

You have to be willing and prepared and open to do whatever it takes to make your idea work. The real goal is not just an image in the mind, but finding the right solution for every detail of the piece. That means lots of learning about stuff you never thought about, like how pigments adhere to the proteins of fibers, and setting up pots of boiling vinegar and stain and buying all sorts of odd stuff in the spice aisle to add to our mad brew.

And all to make the pages that these words will be printed on! Fantastic!

Tonight, the old hard work of love
has given up. I can’t unbutton promises
or sing secrets into your left ear
tuned to quivering plucked strings.

No, please. I can’t face the reflection
of metal on your skin & in your eyes,
can’t risk weaving new breath into war fog.
The anger of the trees is rooted in the soil.

Let me drink in your newly found river
of sighs, your way with incantations.
Let me see if I can’t string this guitar

& take down your effigy of moonlight
From the cross, the dogwood in bloom
printed on memory’s see-through cloth.



different ways of being squished

This is some incredible work by Ann Hamilton, text, and reading and communal motion

CBAA at Yale

Was Fantastic! Well, sadly, I only made it to the first day, but that day was packed with amazing tours of different collections at Yale and meeting lots of great, interesting folks from all across the book-world spectrum.

Although I grew up only 45 minutes away, I never really explored Yale’s campus, and it was a real treat. I started the day with a guided tour through the newly opened gallery, which has an amazing collection of art and is housed in set of three interwoven buildings. It was a nice walk through space/art history. Next, RP and I visited the map collection, where the highlight was a very old, very long, very narrow scroll map of the whole world compressed into a height of about 10 or 12 inches. It marked the pathways of different pilgrimages with Rome as the center (can you guess who made the map?). Land masses were stretched out like the world was just some long plank that went on and on and suddenly ended. My final tour was in the Babylonian collection, which was an entrancing hour where we got to hold clay tablets that were thousands of years old and showed humankind’s first records of a written system of language. There was one little clay envelope that had fingerprints on it, from a person that lived thousands and thousands of years ago. There was also this great moment for me, when the woman sitting next the me had this clay tablet full of writing in front of her on the table, this ancient piece of written communication, and was photographing it with her iphone, which was not much larger than the object itself. After that we headed to the Beinecke Library and the marble walls were glowing just a tinse as the sun went down.

I met one woman who was collaborating with scientists to make a book about plankton bloom, and another who was planning to retire to California and start her own press, another who encouraged that my generation of artists is a powerful group of people, capable pf creating deep meaning and I caught up with a former professor of mine. It was a full and energizing time.

Back in the studio I am cutting down silk for RP’s next big project. It’s lovely to handle these shining, translucent panels and this afternoon light.

Hope everyone is enjoying the printed matter we just mailed off…