Black Friday & Back to Work

To the left is a book without it's cover, some spine lining or "mull" cloth, and a card of headband tape that I'll use for this project. The red pipe is the base of one of my finishing presses, made for me by a friend years ago. In the background is a small part of my collection of artistic rubber stamps.... oh, that's another story.....

Had a great Thanksgiving celebration chez moi with family and friends sharing food, stories and laughs. After spending the last week cleaning and prepping for the big event, I was very happy to get back out to the VHB Studio Shed and get a little work done. With my faithful WorkShed companion by my feet, I picked up where I left off with the restoration of the last four volumes of an antique leather-bound encyclopedia set.

My Library - First Dispatch

The arrival of November chill and the immanent arrival of holiday guests compelled me to do some draught-proofing in the library/guest room. Specifically, I decided to replace an old, ciold and ugly window with something more sensible. By Grace, the local Habitat for Humanity ReStore had exactly what I needed: a fine double-glazed, double-hung casement that fit the frame perfectly. With the help of my Dad and my friend Debbie, we installed the new window successfully and it was one of the most satisfying home-improvement projects I've ever undertaken.

What this has to do with books: the walls of the room are lined with bookshelves and some of them had to be unloaded and moved to do the installation. The process reminded me of the Libraries of My Life, their varied configurations, contents and how each collection and arrangement has been a reflection of different periods of my life. What kind of books are transient, and which volumes do I hang on to and move around with (some have been overseas and back with me) and why? My relationship with my books is complex and dynamic, so characteristic of all enduring love affairs.

The beginning of my affair began before I can remember. As a kid, I recall specific titles in my Dad's library, Profiles in Courage comes to mind immediately, as well as several very exotic and delightful Japanese books, written in English for the purpose of introducing Japanese culture, bound in the Japanese stab-binding style, and wrapped in silk-covered slipcases fastened with clever loop and bone toggles.

My grandfather had a small, but exceeding interesting personal library of theosophical literature alongside his Reader's Digests. He gave me a copy of Ocean of Theosophy before I was ten, and I especially loved to read A.P. Sinnett's details of Mme. Blavatsky's seances with mysterious Ascended Masters Somewhere in the Himalyas, as well as her adventures trekking in exotic lands. He gave me much of his library while he was still alive, and I treasure it today. My sister and I were given books as gifts, especially from our "Aunt Zoe" - a friend of our parents' who adopted us as her family and bestowed lavish, interesting and always educational presents at Christmas. From her I received my first dictionary, Webster's Seventh, and a Columbia Encyclopedia, and several wonderfully illustrated fairy tale books, all of which I still have.

The Library of My Youth was completed and in a way, my fate sealed, at the age of twelve, with the arrival of a box of books from Mrs. C, our urbane neighbor and fellow book lover. There was a lot of good stuff in that crate - Mrs. C belonged to the Book of the Month Club and had all the Classics of Western European Literature in cheap, but attractive cloth covers. There was a big, shiny dust jacket titled The Fan Club which was withdrawn from the box at the final moment, having been deemed inappropriate for my tender years. The Decameron of Boccaccio remained, as it does to this day, simply clad in innocent navy boards. I was intrigued by its device, delighted by its humor and I recognize now that my adolescence was deeply impressed by the influence of its humanity.

Inner Workings

The end of year scramble is on - clients would like to have their gifts of new and refurbished books in time for giving and displaying and I want to finish up lingering projects and start fresh in the new year. The Vinegar Hill WorkShed is packed with materials, tools and works in progress. Seems like no matter what brilliant organizational scheme I come up with, there's never enough room for all the stuff.

The state of the WorkShed is embarrassing when I think about inviting a customer or friend inside. No horizonal surface is unoccupied-including the couch and chair-and there are cobwebs. Tools and materials all over the place, and scraps, stuff that tidy folk would throw away, but I retain for some fantastic future project yet undreamed. Fact is, the WorkShed is an intensely private place. If pressed to tell, I couldn't say where to find that No. 2 bone folder, but in my own work-rhythm, I'd surely locate it by touch be it under or between a stack of torn leaves on the bench or balanced on the edge of the finishing press.

When I ride my bicycle, I feel the machine becomes a part, an extension of my body. When I'm in my Shed, I sense that I become a part of it, intimately related to the history and potential of all of its other contents. Paper, tools, scrap and all.

Calla Lilly

Sculpted

seduction

Flower of

decadence and sorrow

Flowing opal in

the wind of silence

Bride of your own kind

Heroine for the light fall

that rests with simplicity of

a child's whispered prayer on

that alabaster bell of your long stem

Prophecy of sorrow

you greet the dying

Passion in the hand of God,

your bend in the wind

is a flame for the living.

from the chapbook, Pink & Naked in the Ultra-Violet Life, poems by Donna Gebron published by Vinegar Hill Press, 1996


Donna left this life last week at her home in Lake Elsinore. She was a great Romantic, a beautiful soul and a delightful friend.


A beautiful portrait of Donna Gebron may be found at photographer Mark Savage's website, Souls and Passions: Portraits of L.A. Poets .

After a long hiatus

Lamenting the recent passing of Acres of Books in Long Beach, I surfed the web one day a few weeks ago, frantic to find a local used bookstore still in business. I came across an article from last July's Easy Reader that featured several of the last remaining used bookstores in the South Bay. The article's author, Bondo Wypolski, is a well-read fellow and a writer I know and admire as he'd written years ago about Vinegar Hill, the Bookstore back when I had that retail storefront. It occurred to me while reading his piece that the four booksellers profiled had all opened their used bookstores more or less around the same time I opened Vinegar Hill Books in 1992. Reading the interviews took me back. I closed my shop in 1998, rented a work studio and made my living bookbinding and selling books online. These people, made of stronger stuff than I, persevered on the retail front and, well, you can read Bondo's article for more on that.

That afternoon, I went to visit Sandpiper Books - I'd never been there, though I'd conversed with proprietor Christine a few times over the years. I found a few good ones to add to my astrology library and introduced myself to Christine at the cash register. She asked if I still did book binding and repair. I decided to tell her that yes, I do. She took my number and within a week I had a couple of calls, one of which resulted in a job. Around the same time a very patient book client of mine called to discuss his encyclopedia set....and the single volume I had still in my possession. A couple of other events happened, clearly directing me back to work bench. So after a few years of bookbinding hiatus, I have re-entered the Workshed.