Ampersand Duck too

I’m a member of a few bookbinding guilds, not because I’m a keen binder, but because I do enough bookbinding to be eligible and it’s generally a small community down this end of the world so why not support it. I'm also a book designer, mostly for academics, nothing too sexy.  I was recommended this excellent  Substack article  called ‘Books Going Wrong’ by one of the various newsletters and it made me want to jump into the comments with what I’m about to show you, but you can’t actually – as far as I can tell – include images in Substack comments. For that reason I’ll throw them in here before I go any further. Can you see why I want to share? Bastardising the immortal words of Sesame Street,   NONE OF THESE THINGS IS JUST LIKE THE OTHER. Where do I start? These are meant to be the hardback first editions of the diaries of a serious and well-respected Australian writer. They are trying to hit all the markers of quality: hardback, dustjacket, nice paper, reason...

Living in a reasonably small town is still fascinating to me. I’m terrible with faces and names, but I know that they will stick in my head eventually, so I smile at everyone just in case. I like making my own fun, and don’t get lonely easily, so I’m actually terrible at wanting to find fun, but when there’s easy fun to be had (criteria: walking distance from home), I’ll be there. I bought my house to (a) support and encourage my parents to move off their 20-acre prickle farm and into town, and (b) live in the house myself when they moved out. I couldn’t afford to buy in my city. When my parents lived in my house and I visited, or eventually lived with them until they moved to their new supported-living villa, I would sit on the front porch with my mother and watch the world go by. She’s got dementia, but she loves looking at things, even if she doesn’t know the words for them anymore. She would look upwards and say, ‘look at that…’ and move her hand in a soft swirly motion. I’d say, ‘...

 A while back I decided that ENOUGH was my favourite word. It works on so many levels if you need a mantra to stop buying / eating / ‘treating yourself’ / overworking, etc etc. It also works when you get the shits with The Way Things are Being Run and How Things are Being Done. In 2016, as part of a cluster of artworks for a group exhibition with a political theme, I set letterpress into a series about ENOUGH, and printed them on reflective red vinyl stickers. I put a set on the pole outside the gallery. The shop that sold me the vinyl said that it was hard-wearing, and the stickers did indeed last for years, progressively being peeled off by annoyed staff and punters. The stickers were also very portable. I took a couple of sets overseas with me and stuck them in urban spaces.  I used silver ink to print the ‘enough is enough’ text onto a black tee, and that tee is now worn to rags. Just before COVID19 broke out, I was teaching a Typography unit to budding graphic designers,...

The forme for my broadside  SCUMMO  (2021), which I threw onto a tray when I had to move the equipment out of the Wayzgoose Press studio…   I know it’s a common thing these days, and too casually thrown about, but I am sincerely somewhat ADHD. Every day is a wrestle to attain hyper-focus, otherwise I flit around like one of those microbats in a shed roof, doing a bit of this and a bit of that. I don’t know whether I’ve always been like this (my teachers would no doubt say yes) or if it’s the result of looking at a screen for half of my life. I feel sorry, regularly, for all the young people who have only known screens.  Hyperfocus is my favourite state of being. As a young girl I achieved it via books, and could be found at various hockey fields/ cricket matches/ social functions that I was dragged to by my parents, sitting under a tree or in the back of the car with the windows down, or behind a couch, reading a book for hours.  For the past few...

When Craft ACT puts on its annual member's show, the exhibiting members are asked to contribute in some way: help with bump in or bump out, or give a public talk. This has been an insanely busy year for me, so as much as I enjoy a good old 'patch & paint' session, I put my hand up for a floor-talk. The theme of this year's exhibition is CARE , and we were asked to consider how this relates to our work.  I've had no access to a studio for most of this year, so I entered a book that I printed last year for BOOK ART OBJECT, called L OO P . (I did get a chance to print two things this year before the lockdown and subsequent closure of the art school for repairs, but one was a personal work for a retiring friend and the other hasn't been shown in the exhibition it was made for).  Here is my talk:  Floor talk, Craft ACT, 28 November 2020 I don’t know how you can be any kind of creative maker without a sense of care, and particularly --  unless you’re a purely di...

Sometimes I feel like thinking about old work, the work that hasn't made it onto my current website .* So occasionally I'm going to revisit things as a little series I'm calling Own Goal . What follows is from 2009, edited from the original in my first &Duck blog.  The Pillowbooks is a two-object artist's book comprising a complementary pair of concertina folds. It was made for my exhibition Pressings: Recycled Bookwork (Megalo Print Studio + Gallery, 2009 ) , and sat so quietly in the show that I don't think many people noticed it. The rationale for this exhibition was that the works in it were made from the remnants of other work; I used altered commercial books alongside pieces created from larger/more formal book projects that I'd worked on over the years. When I produced  Transmigration , a fine press book of poems by Nan McDonald with drawings by Jan Brown, I printed the edition on paper called BFK Rives Grey, which is a lovely eucalypt grey-green col...