We took a family trip down to Nijmegen to see family. Gonny taught Max how to dance which was the cutest thing ever. He tried so hard to shake his little butt. It's getting to that goodbye stage, which sucks. We have less than five weeks left.
How do you say goodbye to a city that you love? By making twenty hand-bound photographic books.
Since coming to Amsterdam nearly four years ago, I have been repeatedly drawn to photographing the lace curtains hanging in so many of the houses here in Amsterdam. Something about these veils of privacy, shielding the inhabitant from the public eye, is beautiful, yet photographing them is incredibly uncomfortable. I keep returning over and over to this subject.
So I decided to make an edition of twenty hand-bound books of photographs of the lace curtains. It's definitely a labour of love. But it has given me a lot of time to reflect on the beauty of Amsterdam and also reconnected me to a craft I really enjoy. There is something so very precious about a hand-bound book. Each copy has it's own personality. I can't wait to show you the finished books.
I've been hunting through Amsterdam, trying to find some basic bookbinding tools. Finally I got tipped off about Vliger, a specialist paper store on the Amstel. So thanks to Lauren I now own a bone folder, bookbinding needles, iron wire and an awl. Plus some pretty gorgeous paper. I took a bookbinding course years ago and loved it. And yes, it's all related to this project I'm working on. I kinda nerded out in there- I was pretty excited by the bone folders. Why are art supply and stationary shops so enticing?
The snow arrived for real. Amsterdam is never more beautiful than under a blanket of fresh snow. I was running errands in town when it started to fall. By the time I turned head for home, the roads were thickly covered. I had to bike through it, slipping and sliding and smiling all the way.
Temperatures are plummeting. Suddenly I find myself plunged into the deep dry freeze of an Amsterdam winter, after months of mildly cold wetness. The air outside turns Max's little nose into a cherry tomato. We keep our walks short now.