Beautiful things.

The Willamette River Historical Stream Channels

"This visually replaces the relatively flat landscape of the valley floor with vivid historical channels, showing the dynamic movements the river has made in recent millennia."

This poem:

...For once the shells split and sapphire 

And fire-opal fledge in their filth  

And six or seven small spurts of flame  

Are tumbled out into the dazzle

A micro press with approximately the most beautiful landing page ever:

This little glory of bookmaking:

(Charlotte's picture of things in progress)

Bone folding the pages. #bookproject

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on Nov 25, 2015 at 5:47pm PST

Today I walked into my building at 10:30 a.m., and walked out at 7 p.m. In between, I graded and talked to many many students. Waited in vain for a few of them. Talked to colleagues who were cheerfully doing the day-before-a-holiday work of talking and waiting. Worked with Charlotte on the book project--so many steps!

I feel lucky about my work, all of it, the teaching and the planning and the writing and the dreaming. I am lucky in my friends, the ones I have known since I was a half-formed girl, and the ones I am lucky enough to work with every day. I feel lucky in my family: the big, beautiful chaos of it, the history of songs and movies and love and argument, the people from whom I come and the people who come, in part, from me. I'm lucky in love, in my marriage, in my home, in the solace and shelter I find there. The world is unendurable and unbearably beautiful. It's mystifying, it is terrible, it strikes awe. I am tired, I am impatient, I am alive.

Accounting.

Today, I put the grommets into twenty three folios.

Wait, let me start again.

My poetry class is producing a publication. I had a vision of it long before we at the Publication Center ever got a press. A Takach etching press, to be exact. My vision was this:

• a collection of broadsides (each student produces one broadside in a class-size edition)
• sometimes these broadsides were tiny (broadside being used loosely in this instance)
• sometimes these broadsides were largish. Close to tabloid size.
• the broadsides would be printed (sometimes in my vision, they were letter pressed) and would have an image on them.
• the broadsides would be gathered and held--bound, in a word--in a portfolio, which would be
• a beautiful piece of heavy weight paper, printed with the title, and tied with some sort of lacing that would 
• lace through both sides of the portfolio.

In all versions of my vision, this publication was exquisite.

I talked it over with my Publication Center people. We all agreed this was doable. We came up with dimensions for the broadsides (slightly smaller than letter size paper) and the portfolio (a tabloid piece of dove-gray medium weight cardstock). 

"How will the lacing go through the paper?" Charlotte asked.

"I don't know. Just, like, holes?" I approximated.

"You're gonna need grommets," said Charlotte, with certitude and firmness. We talked about grommets and how that would all work, and it was decided.

"What are you going to lace it with?" Charlotte and Kat asked, on different occasions. 

I thought maybe gray suede lacing, and/or maybe gray satin ribbon.

Kat said, "Maybe the narrowest"--she held her index finger and thumb infinitessimally close--"gray grosgrain ribbon." 

This all sounded good to me.

So excited to finish this project with my poetry students tomorrow! It will contain a class set of broadsides for each writer.

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on May 4, 2015 at 7:03pm PDT

Cut to now. I have visited three different stores in search of the elusive narrowest gray grosgrain (or satin, either would do) ribbon, and gray suede lacing. Here's what I have instead:

• satin and grosgrain ribbon, gray, but not the narrowest--medium narrow
• black suede lacing
• lovely soft gray wool yarn
• the very narrowest black grosgrain ribbon
• sheer gray ribbon, also not the narrowest.

Also, today I put in four grommets per publication by hand. The people, I brought a hammer and a nail to work. A hammer. (and a nail.) Putting in grommets is sort of meditative, if by meditative you mean using a hammer and also wondering if you're even doing the damn thing right at all. Or what.

But it is going to be beautiful, I swear. That part of the vision is coming true. Also the part where we have doughnuts from Fresh Donut & Deli. Doughnuts are always the refreshment of choice in my visions.

The meeting.

The Fourth.

Around 10:15, we took Bruiser out for a walk. The air was warm and more than a little smoky. The sound of the fireworks igniting, from the park a few blocks away but also through the neighborhood and one neighborhood over, volleyed and ricocheted. Light constellated. It aneurysmed. It blew like dandelions gone to seed, again and again.

I disapproved of the fireworks, but I admit it: I thought they were beautiful.

Santa Monica.

THAT was a pretty good day:

Back to L.A.:

Did you know about the giant windmill farm?

The next day, we did one of my favorite things this trip--a drive we took up Western Ave, which basically runs from the South Bay all the way to the Hollywood Hills. We were heading to Griffith Park, and we could have taken a series of freeways, but this was better. You can see a lot of different demographics and neighborhoods that make up greater Los Angeles. Did I tell you about last trip, when we got a little bit lost in Compton/Watts, trying to find the Watts Towers? That didn't happen this time:

Unfortunately, Monday is the day that the Griffith Park Observatory is closed. What? No, you heard that right: Monday. However, it was still good. We also stopped in a Target in, I believe, West Hollywood. Targets are not all created equal, but they are all good.

On our way home:

Los Angeles: the report (Part 3).

On the second day, we headed up Highway 1 to Topanga Canyon, after which we planned to hit Mulholland Drive. But first, we went to Venice Beach, which inexplicably I had also never been too.

Historian: You've never been to Venice Beach?

Me: (my life has been a hollow, empty shell.)

So we stopped. We walked on the beach. We absorbed some of the local culture. We bought two cds from guys on the strand.

Reggae guy: You will like it! I'm asking just $10, but whatever you can pay.

Me: I love music! I am happy to pay for music, especially directly to the musician.

Hiphop guy (with another cd): You will like it.

Me: Um, we just bought a cd from that guy.

Hiphop guy: I know that guy, his music is good. Reggae. Mine is very different. I speak five languages. I am from Senegal.

Me: Senegal? Cool. (pays $10 to hiphop guy)

Other musician guy: (brandishes cds)

Me: (flees)

We listened to the cds while we drove up Topanga Canyon. And that was pretty awesome.

TAGS: long billed birds, street art, iconic, hollow shell, suckers for the music

Credo.

I believe in spring.











Ranunculus.










Ranunculus.










Bruiser in the mist.











Paperwhites.