Vinegar Hill Rambles

Artifacts

2010-11-17T17:18:00.000-08:00

I got an Amazon Kindle for my birthday last month. I did not, at the time, know that this was the perfect gift for me. I love everything about it. I don't miss turning paper pages, or trying to balance different tomes comfortably in bed. I don't miss tagging my page with post it notes.

I really dig the instant delivery of books, and the free samples too. After waking up to the radio playing a snippet of Johnny Depp reading Keith Richard's autobiography the other day, I leapt out of bed and ordered the audiobook online.... for my Kindle. That's gonna be a lot of fun for roadtrips.

Thirteen or more years ago I closed my bookstore in favor of bookbinding and restoration. At that time I became convinced that books as I knew and loved them would become relics, artifacts, if not obsolete. At the time I could not conceive of a more perfect reading mechanism than the Western codex. Today, with the readiness of not only Kindle, but other handheld devices (including phones) for storage and enjoyment of the written word, it does indeed look like paper and board printed books may well become a thing of the past. This makes it all the more important for the book arts to be thrive and be passed on to future generations.

I'm sure I'll have more to say on this.

Artist Trading Cards in Australia

2010-08-03T20:27:00.000-07:00

Looking for a challenge, but not for judgment, I participated in an Artist Trading Card project sponsored by Ms. Brown's Lounge/Barratt Galleries, in Melbourne, Australia. Was very excited to see that my South Pole card was used in a snippet on their front page.

The call was for a deck of 55 cards on the general topic "Travel". My deck consisted of 55 completely unique collage/stamped/painted cards. I did scan 'em all before sending off my package. One card was selected for exhibit and auction, the rest to be parsed out in individual decks with art cards from the rest of the participants.... I can't wait until I receive mine! I am very impressed and excited by the images of others' work on the page.

Fun! Exciting! Got to use a bunch of materials I've been saving up for.... just this purpose!

Inspiration Overload!

2010-02-16T21:03:00.000-08:00

It's been an emotional few weeks. I have a private, handwritten journal for such matters and that tome has seen a lot of action since the last Rambles entry. Now that the gloomy weather has taken a break, I notice the days getting a little longer, a couple of little green finches building a nest in the over-grown myrtle outside my kitchen and I got to attend the 43rd Annual California Antiquarian Book Fair last weekend.

These exhibits interest me because of the quantity and variety of bibliophilic treasure that one can experience at one time, in one place. I maintain that there is no single library - however great - that can offer so much stimuli for a collector, or a maker of books. And that's what it boils down to: now more than ever before in living history, a rare book is valued most on the persistence of its existence and how well it has held up.

Up until now, I've hesitated to think and write about the place of the printed codex in the First World, anno 2010. No more. I suspect fetishism in today's bookworld. To support/explain/excuse this P.O.V., I offer the following short list of discoveries:

First edition The Sun Also Rises (Near Fine in VG DJ - not signed by the author) is available from at least two dealers for the price of a new Lexus sedan.
A copy of Spengler's Decline of the West by William Burroughs to Jack Kerouac, with K's copious annotations and (presumeably original ) black electrical tape repairs is also on the market.
Victor Hugo painted when he needed a break from writing. Miniature landscapes that are very good!
Miniature landscapes cleverly disguised as books in the form of fore-edge paintings are among the best values today (my personal pick!)
Prophetic booksellers now exhibit Artist's Books. Even contemporary works.

Maybe being treated as an object is not so bad, after all these years.

My Favorite Book Press

2010-01-15T22:02:00.000-08:00

The Workshed got a new window last week - a long-overdue improvement. With the sparkly new fixture, I was inspired to reorganize the workshop space and so spent a day at that task. The next biggest improvement was to bring my beautiful teak double-laying press to the center of the workshop, where it rightfully belongs. Mr. Dog is not pleased that I had to remove his sofa to do this, but now I'll be much less reluctant to illustrate my posts with photos.

Most of my heavier book binding equipment has been purchased second hand over the years. Since these items are rather specialized, it takes some hunting to acquire them. The laying press pictured here is one I bought from a "hobby" binder several years ago. The previous owner had commissioned two such contraptions from a woodworker who used salvage and scrap hardwood, mostly teakwood, from his boatbuilding work. The best book presses are built of hardwood to resist warpage from the moisture expressed in many book pressing operations. This press was designed by the original owner who was interested in the look of medieval scriptorium tables at which scribes, generally monks, worked head-to-head at copying manuscripts - the only way to get a copy of a book prior to the introduction of moveable type by Gutenberg in 1439. The base of this press is a rather fanciful adaptation, but works well to support the presses, the jaws of which can move freely to accommodate large books and additional pressing boards if necessary and still be totally supported by the base and allowing plenty of free space for work to hang down and worker to move around without hinderance. It's also a gorgeous piece of furniture, now properly showcased at Vinegar Hill.

After the signatures or leaves of a books have been sewn together, pressing becomes important at several subsequent phases of the binding process. The horizontal, or laying press, is used to hold the sewn book block while the spine is shaped and lined before attaching the cover boards. Because the spine of the book is held horizontally, the binder can get on top of the work and assure that the spine is even and uniformly shaped. This is critical to making a book that opens easily, yet retains it's shape when closed. In later phases of the binding process, the book boards will be lined and pressed, the book will be attached to the boards, covered and pressed, and finally any titling or decoration on the covered spine will be done while the book is held in the laying press.

Most hand binding work does not require a press as large or elaborate as this one, and I do have and use several other presses regularly. This press is so special because I can have two projects on the bench at once, the shelf slides the width of the table so I can keep tools and materials handy from either side, the dual presses accommodate huge books easily, and the shelf lifts off the base, so if I need a large, flat work surface - or a place to serve a romantic "studio dinner" - I simply remove it and any work in the presses and put down a formica-clad table top on the base.

Romantic Studio dinner? Hmm, gotta try that.

Collectible Books on Amazon

2010-01-05T21:28:00.001-08:00

Several months ago, Amazon.com decided to change some its independent seller policies. What affected me most, was the introduction of their guidelines for selling "Collectible Books". While I understand the need for enhanced descriptive and grading parameters for these specialized items, the rejection of my initial application to sell "Collectible Books" puzzled me and frankly, pissed me off. I could not understand why, as a book restoration specialist and professional used bookseller of 17+ years (not to mention an Amazon Independent Seller for nearly a decade) this designation would be denied me. ME! I was in this business when we poured over bi-weekly print issues of Antiquarian Bookseller with a highlighting pen and had to lick the stamps with which we mailed our offerings, so neatly printed on index cards. Ha! This megolithic dotcom upstart, whose deeply discounted offerings put so many indie bookstores out of business over the years would now dare to refuse a veteran bookseller access to its world wide marketplace. The nerve.

Maybe it was because they only allowed me 376 characters to tell them why I felt I was qualified. Even the reduction of my bookselling C.V. to txt script didn't begin to let them know who I was. The delivery of my rejection via No Reply email, the stark abscence of any phone contact number to register my protest and the maddening labyrinth of the Amazon seller pages left me frustrated and despondent. I resigned myself to my fate and made a mental note to recategorize those items I'd tagged "Collectible", but never actually got around to doing it.

Then, last weekend checking my email while on the road, another reminder to submit my application for "Collectible Bookseller" status with Amazon.com had arrived with the warning that my collectible-tagged inventory would disappear by the Feast of the Epiphany if I wasn't accepted. As resubmission seemed easier than migrating my inventory, I did. I made my case in fewer than 300 characters, with complete sentences, reserving the flourishes for the questions answered in numeric fields.

Lo and Behold! Today I received the very surprising news that I have earned Collectible Seller status and am now bound by all its special requirements. That's OK. It's hunting season, and I'm well armed.

I know it's a new year when...

2010-01-04T21:08:00.000-08:00

My friend in Berlin, Falko, sends out his annual New Year Post Card. I am lucky to be the recipient and holder of maybe a nine or ten of these precious things. Always the same couch, usually, at least three of the models are present, against a backdrop of his most fascinating library. The last four are displayed on my fridge to the fascination of all who visit. I wonder how many of these he sends out each year?

I met Falko Hennig in the latter years of the Vinegar Hill Bookstore. By that time, the store had become a destination of Bukowski fans, largly due to a book published by another German fellow, Gundolf S. Freyermuth, who spent several months with the late poet before his death. That time, which included a Bukowski Birthday Bash at Vinegar Hill, was later documented in a book written by Freyermuth and generously illustrated with photographs by Bukowski's great friend (now, sadly also departed) Michael Montfort. Das War's (last words with Charles Bukowski), was published in German in 1996, with a chapter translated and published in a soon subsequent LA Magazine (I think), affording your rambling blogger with her 15 minutes meted out in second-long intervals. It didn't save the retail folly that was at the time VHBooks, but because of it and Michael I met Falko. In addition to the honor of his mailing list, he also treated me to a wonderful tour of Berlin in his military-issue topless Trabant when I got to visit in 1997. That was a treat I hope to revisit later.

Speaking of dead and wonderful people that I am so happy to have know, today also marks what would have been the 59th birthday of my dear friend, John Bisazza, who passed away much too soon a year and a half ago. John was one of my first customers and became one of my dearest friends over the years. A native of San Pedro, he was a professor of neuro-linguistics at a Meiji Gaikun University in Tokyo, a wine expert, photographer, writer, and avid reader and collector of books. His taste in the book department ran from southern Slavic viticulture of the 18th century to early English linguistic works to the American Civil War, Croatian Nazis and Jules Verne. I still have a file cabinet drawer full of his purchase receipts and unfulfilled want lists. I still have a part of memory filled with many detailed conversations and debates. Portraits he shot of my pets, and of me in the thick woolen Taliban hat that he used to protect his favorite camera.

When I told him my tale of a Berlin tour in an early East German military Trabant, he sent me on a wild mission to try and acquire one for him. For years he drove me nuts with that search, as with the search for an authentic Nazi fez, neither of which I was able to locate for him. In spite of all his peculiarities, he was the menschliest person I've ever known. I miss him terribly still and suspect that I am not alone with that sentiment.

John eschewed the internet and refused to communicate with email. He visited several times a year, and in between we communicated frequently by phone and fax at odd hours due to the time difference. He did publish articles on travel and wine frequently. I found online this obituary for his friend, Joe Rosenthal, the guy who shot the now-iconic photograph of American soldiers planting the Stars and Stripes on Iwo Jima.

I just realized as I ramble on here, that the circle spirals outward to include three of the deceased mentioned here in the same cemetary. Right here in San Pedro, Green Hills.

Vinegar Hill has delivered me into the company of a lot of interesting and accomplished people. Wow, I think I'll stay.

L.A. Holiday

2009-12-28T18:14:00.001-08:00

Now that it's past, I realize that most of December and November careened by, leaving me with motion-blurred image memories and whatever I managed to get down in words here, or elsewhere. Work promised, was completed and delivered, deals initiated were signed and sealed, and obligations met just under the wire to avoid penalties. A sigh of relief, privately marked with long-overdue phone and underwear upgrades, readied me for the Christmas celebration with family and friends.

Since the 23rd, I haven't done much of anything; by that I mean in the sense of producing. And I've missed that tangible proof of accomplishment that comes with holding an object aloft and declaring: "I made this!" I have, however run a gamut of emotions relating to this past year and just now am beginning to reflect on 2009 and mentally organize myself for the coming year. A trip to Watts Towers on Christmas Day put me on an unexpected Train of Thought, and I'm still taking that ride.

Michael Levine Made Me Cry

2009-12-04T19:44:00.000-08:00

Took a field trip downtown today to the LA Fashion District with my friend Donna. We'd been planning this trip for several weeks, beginning in October when by a fluke I'd successfully made a hat and decided that millinery was my new calling. We had to postpone that trip and by November, I was obsessed with designing and making handbags and hoped to travel uptown to discover new sources of material and inspiration. November came and went and our trip was delayed further. Finally, this week, we set our date in stone as Donna's mission to put together a set of pattern-maker's tools for a friend living in the Solomon Islands could wait no longer. I, having stashed my sewing stuff to make way for Thanksgiving company, had taken the opportunity of an unoccupied dining/cutting table to sort out my jewelry-making stash after the holiday, looked forward to hunting down some fresh findings in the adjacent Jewelry District once Donna had accomplihsed her task.

It turned out that Donna's original destination had relocated just last week to Baldwin Park, so our plans changed a bit. We tracked down another designer supplier downtown and she was able to get most of what she needed. I marveled at the array of Santa-hatted dress forms and acquired a few small sewing tools -- thread clipper, replacement rotary blade, pin-cushion in the shape of a dress form -- not that I needed them, but because I tend to want to support retail environments that delight and inspire me by giving them some of my money. My justifications for such spontaneous acts of acquisition run the gamut of reasons from "completing the set" to "I know I'll need this someday (soon)". This parallels my justification for adding books to my library: anything that earns a place on my shelves must have "reference value". There are of course no hard and fast rules for the "R.V." designation.

After the supply house, I figured I was done shopping for the day, as it was clear we'd not have time for the jewelry district and still hit the road home before Friday rush traffic. Donna had another errand, this time to the heart of the Fashion Fabric in Santee Alley. We parked on a roof-top lot and descended into a sensory surprise I was not prepared for.

It's been 20 years since my sister's wedding, the one I sewed the bride's maid's dresses for which were very chic 1940's retro-inspired two-piece numbers with that big '80's shoulder accentuation, in this case giant round lapels framing deep decolatage. And it had been that long since I'd been to "the District". It was my sister's idea at time to let her maids wear something they might actually wear again (didn't happen, at least not for me), she had a neutral palette in mind and the three of us had identical suits of fabulous light cream on cream embroidered taffeta with taupe moire collars.

So Donna and I emerged from the parking lot stairwell into a sea of fancy wedding fabric, shiny, gossamer, sequin and pearl studded, rainbow colors..... one shop after another. We ducked into a small decorator fabric shop which was devoid of customers, but welcoming in its warmth and designer home appeal. I remembered my living room sofa. It took me years and about 1/2 a dozen tries to get a sofa I liked in form and comfort but from the beginning it's needed new upholstery. Since then I've used the Victorian Drape technique to disguise its shabbiness. Now, today, this small shop offered the potential of solving that problem. As his first customer of the day, the proprietor made me an offer I couldn't refuse on 12 yards of exquisitely elegant and almost luminous ultra-marine blue fabric with a small golden diamond pattern. Umm. I hadn't planned this project, but it might be interesting for a future blog post.

After trotting my yardage upstairs and stowing it in the trunk, we continued to Donna's chosen destination, the famous yardage & trim mecca of L.A., Michael Levine's. As if 360 days of sunshine each year were not enough, if you love fabric like I do, this store is another reason to love L.A. A huge selection of fine designer and imported silks, brocades, velvets, over-the-top costume stuff of every description along with standard and unusual suiting, shirting and canvas. I was on sensory overload and had to avoid the store-long trim counter all together, though I did linger awhile around the leather rack and almost succumbed to the temptation of a 50% off selection before I was reminded that I have a sizeable stash of non-bookbinding skins purchased on spec several years ago and still unused.

As I wandered the store, I reminded myself of my current fabric purchase rule: If it's not a marked-down remant, or a garage or estate sale find, and I don't have a specific project in mind, I am not allowed to buy any more fabric. Cupboards and drawers of my home are bursting with fabric of every description, I told myself again in a confession to Donna. Just about then, we'd arrived at the fine fabric department, where many bolts reside in locked, glass cabinets, and we immediately spyed the silk remant rack and proceeded to examine each cut. Donna could not resist an incredibly beautiful burn-out silk swath at half price, and I found a yard of feather-light creamy silk printed with an architectural theme very reminiscent of Ludwig Bemelman's drawings in his Madeline series, and other books. For $10, it was mine, and I remained within my purchase parameter. But then, I had to get away from there and my attention was diverted to .... Blue Velvet, the Fabric of My Dreams.

There is a particular shade of blue that is only achieved with a fine silk velvet. It's deep, rich, like a pigment ground of Lapis Lazuli and applied by the brush of Vermeer or a handfull of Italian Masters. Seeing this on a bolt on the velvet shelf, I can't recall my feet touching the floor before I reached to it and felt the coolness and fluidity of its hand. Uncontrollably, I began to weep. My friend looked at me, perplexed, then looked away. I felt I should attempt some explanation, but what?

Did I weep for its beauty? Yes, but Beauty is not so simple. In those tear-filled moments, my fingers stroking the cloth, it was a symbol of the loftiest human potential in craft and art to the end of exhaulting one's surroundings as one's spirit might be lifted to Heaven. Simoultaneously was the awareness of the incredible bargain I'd gotten on the upholstry fabric, probably less than cost, from the hurting merchant a block away and just a few blocks further, the cardboard condos on the sidewalk that lean against the chain-link fence of a parking lot. Not so simple at all.

Black Friday & Back to Work

2009-11-27T19:44:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-22T19:30:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-17T08:48:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-14T13:02:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-12T18:44:00.000-08:00

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.