Turning

Poet Beau Beausoleil read Turning to me and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up . . . it seemed to speak of much that has happened in mine and the lives of close friends over these past few years. So I couldn't believe my good fortune when I received an email to see if I'd like to work with it.

Usually it takes me a while to get started, turning thumbnail sketches into small mock-ups, knowing I'll discard most of what I initially make. 

However, I found myself tearing paper and stitching (something I haven't done for a while) an idea having arrived in a rush. And like a river carried along by the surprise of my own unfolding I just allowing it to flow through me, almost as if I'd disengaged my conscious brain . . . . 

Exploring my initial thoughts, with text broken up and sprinkled throughout.

Then as luck would have it, 1st born was working from Mr B's study today (fantastic! we got to sit and chat over a leisurely lunch) and mentioned that the hole I'd torn looked a little heart shaped, 

and a new page emerged . . .

and another

and another

another . . .

another . . ?

until we arrive at the complete poem.

Of course I must now give some consideration to production.

Will I tear each page individually? or laser cut? How will I print; letterpress? digital? relief? What size edition? How will it be bound? . . . is this the right format? or do I develop further prototypes? 

. . . actually, this may just take me some time!