Possible replacement
New Hobby: Book Making
I've been fishing around for something to do as a hobby for while. Making beer, while fun, isn't something we have the facilities for me to do with any regularity. Plus, it's kind of a pain in the ass (sorry brewers, it is). J-- had recently turned our spare bedroom into a writing room, which freed up a corner in the den. I quickly set up a card table, decked it out with a random Ikea shelf that had been sitting in a corner, and instantly realized I had nothing to do with the space.
A couple failed trips to Riders Hobby store later, I knew I wouldn't be building model planes or cars anymore. I really enjoyed doing it as a kid, but I felt no passion for building what are, essentially, toys. I still don't have quite enough space or money to bump up to making model sailing boats or R/C planes, so I found myself adrift without options.
But then, due to a random conversation at work, I was Googling for more information about making books. I watched some videos, browsed the few websites that are out there, and then a planned trip to Hollanders in Ann Arbor. Soon, I found myself in possession of a bone folder and some supplies.
I spent a couple tense hours measuring, cutting, gluing, and fretting as I assembled my first book; a deckle-edged, blank-paged journal with a cover cut from a map of the world. It an amateur's job, which goes with my skill level. But I loved it and I wanted to make more books. I love the feel of books and the fact that I can create them taps into a visceral part of me, that part that used to hang out in my dad's shop, breaking all his tools and cutting up his stock of wood.
This past weekend, I made book number two: a conventional, lined journal with a book cloth edge. It's constructions is slightly better than the first book; practice makes perfect, right? I had planned to spread the construction out over the weekend, but I managed to finish it the same day I bought it.
I think I've found a hobby.
[caption id="attachment_1776" align="alignleft" width="500" caption="My First Two Books; 1st one on the bottom"]
[/caption]
A couple failed trips to Riders Hobby store later, I knew I wouldn't be building model planes or cars anymore. I really enjoyed doing it as a kid, but I felt no passion for building what are, essentially, toys. I still don't have quite enough space or money to bump up to making model sailing boats or R/C planes, so I found myself adrift without options.
But then, due to a random conversation at work, I was Googling for more information about making books. I watched some videos, browsed the few websites that are out there, and then a planned trip to Hollanders in Ann Arbor. Soon, I found myself in possession of a bone folder and some supplies.
I spent a couple tense hours measuring, cutting, gluing, and fretting as I assembled my first book; a deckle-edged, blank-paged journal with a cover cut from a map of the world. It an amateur's job, which goes with my skill level. But I loved it and I wanted to make more books. I love the feel of books and the fact that I can create them taps into a visceral part of me, that part that used to hang out in my dad's shop, breaking all his tools and cutting up his stock of wood.
This past weekend, I made book number two: a conventional, lined journal with a book cloth edge. It's constructions is slightly better than the first book; practice makes perfect, right? I had planned to spread the construction out over the weekend, but I managed to finish it the same day I bought it.
I think I've found a hobby.
[caption id="attachment_1776" align="alignleft" width="500" caption="My First Two Books; 1st one on the bottom"]
[/caption]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
What is that noisy IoT device on my network?
That's the first question that popped up when I installed AdGuard Home on my Raspberry Pi last night. Within minutes, hundreds of querie...
-
Check out the interface on this! CeBIT '06: Asus R2H Keyboard Interface - Gizmodo
-
How to Deal with a Crazy Spouse
-
So, in my continuing immersion (descent?) into all thing New Orleans, I have one nagging question at the fringes of my mind: How, exactly, d...