Ampersand Duck too

A brass rubbing done by Lady Duck when we lived in the UK in the 1970s Over the last couple of months, I've stepped up to being the Adult in the Room. I've been the A/R before, when my son was growing up, but this is the next stage of life: parenting your parents. I don't think Colonel Duck would agree with my terminology, but he definitely understands now that I'm able to help in in ways that he wouldn't have accepted a few months ago.  Together we have transitioned Lady Duck from home care to a care home. It's been emotional, but also a profound relief on my part. CDk was doing an excellent job according to his capacity, but it had narrowed LDk's life to a lot of TV-babysitting and occasional outings for Nice Meals Elsewhere.  Lady Duck is the eldest of four sisters, so grew up with a lot of female company, and she also had strong women for a mother and grandmothers. She was shy, but also confident. She has always, albeit quietly, done things her own way. ...

Recently my lovely friend Liz died in her sleep. It's hard to be too sad when someone who was almost 90 dies in such a peaceful way, and more than anything, I've been feeling grateful for her presence in my life and quietly gathering my memories of her. I wanted to write this straight away but it's taken me a few weeks of processing to realise that she's really gone. Image above: Cover for Ada Cambridge,  A Woman's Friendship , serialised in the Melbourne Age in 1889, published in the Colonial Texts Series in 1988, edited by Dr Elizabeth Morrison The last time I saw her in person was in her new room in an aged care complex in Melbourne. We sat amongst her books, heartbreakingly culled to fit the small bookshelves, and her choices included things that I'd given her and produced for her, which was a lovely compliment. As last times go, it was a lovely enc...

It's been years now since I had a sessional job teaching artist books and letterpress printing at an art school – a relationship that COVID-19 killed, really – and while part of me misses it, I am enjoying a much less structured life. It's not quite retirement, it's more like 'dedicated freelancing'.  Image above: Ampersand Duck & Byrd: Altered Library, 2013 I inherited that artist book submajor course around 2007, when my art school was starting to restructure itself in various ways. I'd been a student in the original unit, and it was taught along the lines of the original workshop, the Graphic Investigation Workshop (GIW), even though GIW had been closed to become the Printmedia & Drawing Workshop (PMD). The original semester unit would produce one publication only: an editioned collaborative book/folio/boxed work, where each student would produce a page (often a double spread) using various print techniques and letterpress, all responding to a common...

A few years ago I went to the launch of Michael Richards’ ‘biblio-biography’ of Alec Bolton at the National Library of Australia (NLA). I love the idea of a ‘biblio-biography’, which is just what it sounds like: a history of someone via the books they made. It could also apply to the books someone owned, if they were just a collector, but Alec was a book maker. He was a professional book designer and a letterpress printer. He was the first Publications Manager of the NLA and before that he worked for publishers Angus & Robertson and Ure Smith. He established a private press, the Brindabella Press, and last but absolutely not least, he was the husband of poet Rosemary Dobson, whom he met at Angus & Robertson and married in 1951. I mentioned in the last post that I worked for Rosemary Dobson Bolton. Here’s where it intersects: I met Alec when I worked as the Publications Officer for the Australian Academy of the Humanities, which launched a major bibliographic project called the ...

Moving into my 'forever home' has involved a lot of unpacking of boxes, many of which have been packed for a very long time. I'm nowhere near finished, nor have I organised everything that I've unpacked, which has resulted in a modicum of chaos (if there can be such a thing). Over the last year I've worked on a  project to make a material, handwritten archive of my (meaningful) Facebook posts, something I call my 'Facebook Yearbook', and that crazy task is almost finished. Today I came across a post I wrote in February 2025 and realised that it should be part of the 'small collects' post series that I started here during the first Covid lockdown and will now continue as I wrangle the hoard of treasures collected, bequeathed and discovered through what I now think of as my amazing bibliographic life, now that I'm entering the third trimester of it (cross fingers I am lucky enough to get a good run of it). So what follows is an extended version of ...

It's that time of year when One Must Print a Card, if you have the means to do so. When my studio was in storage, I'd make cards using Letraset, like this one (how good is that vintage card stock!): I don't make Xmas cards because I loathe Xmas. I think I've covered the reason why in my 'Enough' post.  I make 'not-Xmas' cards, and this year I had fun using an italic wood type font inherited from the Wayzgoose press, silver ink, and three different paper stocks: thick white European paper, mustard-yellow textured cardstock, and thin handmade Bemboka Paper Mill stock in a salmon colour. Here's the variants: A lovely thick paper that I only had in a few sheets -- an end-of-pack from a Wayzgoose Press (WP) book production, I think, because it was folded into landscape pages Same silver ink on the Bemboka Mill handmade paper. Is shinier than it seems here.  Single-printed on this great WP textured card stock, again, with only a few sheets left.  Double p...