Mormon Artists Group

[This diary was kept throughout 2002.]

In the winter of 2001, I began to consider that the time might be right to publish a book. The Mormon Artists Group had been established in May 1999, and a group of about ten writers began quarterly meetings soon afterward. The afternoon when I proposed a book of essays had been a busy one. All of the authors had taken turns reading aloud, and little time remained. The response was muted. I am quite sure that no one took me seriously.

A few months later, however, we began the discussion in earnest. In the meanwhile some of the group’s authors had bowed out. Others sat on the fence, and a few were willing to participate, but they were only planning to submit essays already written and collecting dust somewhere.

To my mind there are two factors that caused the project to gather steam: Richard Bushman consented to write the introduction to the volume, and I bound a mock-up version of the book with linen bookcloth, marbled endpapers, and a dummy table of contents showing all our names and essay titles I had made up for each. It was as if a lightswitch had been turned on; we were on our way.

I could go down the list of authors and describe how their essays came to be. The stories behind the stories are amazing. This is a group of courageous souls. They speak the truth. They wish to describe events and ideas about which they care deeply. Of course, little did we know last year that our city would witness such horror and confusion as ours did beginning September 11. The occasion galvanized us and encouraged us to get our points of view down on paper.

Our writers group had been a relatively fixed group for quite some time: myself, Luisa Perkins, Claudia Bushman, Joanne Rowland, Jim Lucas, Adam Russell, Raquel Cook, Astrid Tuminez, D. Fletcher, Jenny Epting, and Adriana Velez. When we got serious about this particular project, Jenny, D., and Adam weren’t able to participate. Later, I also invited Kent Larsen to submit an essay, knowing that he had a unique point of view to offer.

To be honest, Richard’s essay posed quite a problem for the group–it was too good! He turned it in quite early on, as I recall, and so all of the authors read it. It made them scamper home and rewrite their own pieces; he set the bar high. I decided that since it was my idea to do the thing, it should fall upon me to follow Richard’s introduction. I couldn’t let anybody else have the task of going next. That is how I came to write my essay. It is a genre I’ve never tried before. In fact, we chose a book of personal essays instead of a book of poetry, or fiction, or something else mostly because essays and essay writing were familiar tasks to the majority.

Having seen all of the drafts over a period of time, it is fascinating how radically different their final state will be. In every case, the authors were eager to change things in order to clarify, streamline, elucidate, and improve. That is a bit surprising because most of the authors are experts and have published multiple volumes.

Our review process included sending all of the essays to each author for comments. That could have been a disaster, an avalanche of hurt feelings, but the comments were always respectful, and usually helpful. A few authors made detailed grammatical observations; others acted as philosophical sounding boards. I tended to be a reader’s advocate and made suggestions that would help a reader follow things more clearly. A couple of the members of the group weren’t able to give any comments but, “Great job. I loved your essay!” And that’s always welcome.

About an hour ago, Steve came by the apartment to show me his first etching for the book. The etchings are drypoint, and they are being printed at the Art Students League, the school where many of the church’s great artists–M. Young, M. Frazer, M. Teichert, and many others–both studied and taught. I like the historical connection.

I first happened across the drawings of Steve Moore at the church’s quarterly priesthood training meetings. Steve brought with him a small sketchbook and fine-tipped pen. Hundreds, even thousands of tiny lines emerged in abstract, amorphous groups. The more I looked at them, the more deeply I felt transported by them.

The etchings are similar to the drawings in style. A drypoint etching is a technique closely related to drawing. A diamond-tipped tool scratches the surface of a copper plate. Ink is rolled onto the plate, the excess ink is removed. Then the plate is pressed to paper and the ink rested on the grooves of the plate transfers to the paper. The prints for the book are large–7×10 inches. After many pressings, the plate loses the fine details of the line; it becomes harder and less subtle. So Steve determined that the edition need be quite limited to maintain quality.

The other elements of book design are straightforward, with an eye to the simple and luxurious. The bookcloth is a neutral tan linen. The text paper is Mohawk Superfine. We chose it because it had a quality of suppleness and still took the ink beautifully. The endpapers are marbled by hand. Steve and I had a terrible time finding the right marbled sheets. We didn’t want them to clash, upstage, and dilute the power of the etchings, but we hoped to find something that tied the book of the volume to the rich tradition of hand-bound book editions.

Our decision to make the book ourselves and produce it entirely by hand is a folly. It’s not as if we had experience in the craft previously. But after investigating the costs and quality of contracting the printing or binding to outside entities, we felt confident that our own skills were sufficient to finish the book on time, within budget, and without too much embarrassment. To be frank, however, it remains to be seen whether we escape the idea of production without disaster.

I have been printing the book for an entire month, nearly around the clock. I hit the “print” button and return in two hours to hit it again. For the most part, it is going smoothly. To get a fine impression, the printer uses a great deal of ink. I finished the printing only to discover that I had miscalculated a signature and had to scramble to make the pagination work.

The linen thread should arrive any day now. When it arrives, I’ll begin sewing signatures. I don’t know how long it will take to complete that task.

Meanwhile Steve is working very hard on the etchings. He has changed his mind on using a drypoint process and instead is using an acid-based traditional technique. It is much more work, but he is happier with the effects he is achieving now.

We have all been in denial to the amount of time necessary to produce this. To bind one book is easy. To make one etching, likewise. But 62 books…that’s 310 etchings! Our deadline is the end of May and that still gives us a little over a month. The writers are all relaxed and happy: their work is done, but mine….

It is now May 20. The prospectus for the book is completed. Each author will begin to send out these 8-page booklets tomorrow. We created a lovely prospectus. It has three of the images reproduced in it. The paper is the same as our book’s text pages, the same dimensions, typeface, and design. Each of the authors has one excerpt from their essays as a preview. The prospectus also describes the volume and states its cost: $100. Initially, that price was a source of great stress–would anyone buy it? I have more confidence now. The etchings are completed now but they are not printed yet. That begins this week. One of the instructors at the NY Art Students League is to assist in the printing; otherwise, the task would be too difficult.

Meanwhile, we have been investigating the printing of a paperback edition of the volume. I would like to see it because there are potential readers who can’t have access to the deluxe volume–so cost is a factor. Exclusivity is another problem, and I would like it not to be.

All of the authors have been terrifically supportive and enthusiastic. It was very gratifying last night, when several of us gathered together to sew the prospectus and glue the envelopes. To see the author’s faces when they saw the unbound volumes made me being to think the effort to produce it wasn’t wasted.

Two weeks after sending the prospectuses, and we have reservations for all of the books but three and all of the deluxe sets but two! I’ll admit to being surprised. The response has been gratifying and surprising. I had drawn up a list of potential purchasers in New York, but when it came time to send out the information about the volumes, more prospectuses were sent away from New York. It was a daily occurrence: check email, respond to the reservations, log it in this book. What amazed me were the people who reserved two three, even five copies of the book, merely because they heard about it from soneone else who received a prospectus. Having Richard and Claudia Bushman’s names attached to the proejct was all some purchasers needed to know. Others were attracted to the book concept of a limited edition. Nearly every person wanted to know exactly how many copies remained. Their responses grew ever more agitated as quantities dwindled.

I have learned through this project that the LDS community is not necessarily as bland and sheepish as is commonly thought. Several times I heard people talk about their yearning for high-quality projects. Price doesn’t appear to be the barrier we all had anticipated. In the back of my mind, I expected to have difficulties selling the deluxe set of books plus addition portfolio of etchings at $400. But that wasn’t the case.

The acquisition of the deluxe volume and an extra copy of the book by the BYU Library special collections pleased me. And the day I heard from the Deseret News book editor, who is planning a review and article of the book, I was especially giddy. Of course, we New Yorkers spend a great deal of time pretending that we don’t need any outside approval, but it was wonderful for me personally when so many people responded to the book generously.

July 8 - Selling the book was fun; making it…slightly less fun. We were doing very well on our schedule of deadlines. The printing was hard but relatively easy. Likewise, the sewing proceeded quickly enough. When the final steps approached, however, production bogged down. The printing of the etchings became a Herculean effort. Steve Moore spent every available minute for months at the Art Students League. All told, the project required over 300 etchings. I went to observe on afternoon.

The plate is smeared with a thick, tar-like ink. Then wiping begins. Excess ink comes off after a few passes with cheesecloth. But that is insufficient. If the copperplate looks clean, there is still ink residue on the plate. If the blank areas are not wiped again and again (bare hands work best for this stage of wiping), the print will appear dirty and gray.

A fine etching is an unlikely illusion. The paper appears to have inked areas and clean areas, but what is less apparent is the work required to get the clean areas clean. And even after the incessant wiping, the press could malfunction; the paper could be slightly askew; the pressure inconsistent; etc.

Sometimes, Steve told me, an entire evening of work produced only five prints that were acceptable!

Over the Fourth of July holiday, I worked as long as my eyes could stand it on the book. One day, I began binding about 9 am and finished near midnight to complete twenty books. They were totally sewn and glued previously. That day’s labor was merely to make the hard cases for the book and to glue and press them. It is a satisfying job, but a long one.

I have run out of buckram, the loosely-woven netting to reinforce the spines. Otherwise, all the books would be done. I’ll buy what I need tomorrow and hopefully do the remaining books by the end of this week.

Although I haven’t heard complaints about the delay, I’m eager to have the buyers with books in their hands.

July 12 - It is just after midnight. Steve left a few minutes ago, having spent the evening signing and numbering books and etchings. I was pleased to show him the completed books. Kent Larsen tells me that he will pick up the copies on Saturday and take them to inventory.

I have two jobs remaining–to glue the artists’ books into their cases; and to construct the portfolio boxes that house the deluxe set of etchings. I’m particularly proud of the boxes because they’re sturdy, useful, and handsome.

While I was cutting boards today for portfolios, the blade slipped and I sliced my thumb. Quite a bit of blood for a while. Blood, sweat, and tears, indeed.

July 21 - Last night all of the contributors except for Richard and Claudia, who are out of town for the summer, came over to our apartment. We had something of a celebration. Each of the contributors took his/her book home. What an enjoyable evening! The authors are very energized about writing. As we talked about writing projects, each member in the group noted how the process of creating this book has empowered them and restored their efforts to continue other projects that they had begun earlier but that had bogged down.

Our apartment was so loud. Everyone wanted to hang out. We ate expensive French chocolates, drank sparkling lemonade, Norwegian bottled water, and polished off a delicious summer strawberry shortcake.

There are some plans remaining to be accomplished. We have to produce a paperback edition and correct any errors we find in the printing of the deluxe edition. There are a few marketing plans, and of course, the reserved copies need to be sent to their purchasers. But Kent Larsen’s company, Nauvoo Books, is to fulfill these tasks, so we don’t really have much more to do. While we gathered together, I spoke of Stephen Moore’s very generous contribution to our book via his beautiful etchings. As I described the process of printmaking–the group was mostly ignorant of the specifics previously–they were astonished as to the magnitude of what he had to do.

The two authors who had purchased sets of the etchings in the portfolio boxes took them home as if they were rare trophies. Naturally, that made Steve feel very happy.

All of us felt very happy that together we made something from nothing. Last year at this time, this book was merely an idea. To have something like this, and to have it so quickly, only heightened our joy.

It is now January 2003. All of the deluxe editions of the book have disappeared long since, and the comments from buyers was uniformly kind. We all exchanged positive comments that came back to us, and with new expectations revolving around the paperback edition, all the authors revisited their essays. It didn’t surprise me to discover small errors here and there, and we quickly corrected them. A few of the authors did significant rewrites, especially Jim Lucas who added marvelous things to his essay with an eye towards guiding the reader through dense subject matter.

About one week before we were to send the book to the printer, we discovered that major design work had to be done that I hadn’t anticipated. A few very long days passed sitting at the computer. Finally, the printer received the computer file of the book and promised completion six weeks later, December 13. That meant people wanting a copy for Christmas had to trust many unknowns. Still Kent Larsen worked a miracle of production, and postcards were sent to friends and family (about 1,000 of them) and the books arrived and were shipped in plenty of time for the holidays.

All told, the project took two full years from inception, to writing and editing, creating the deluxe volume, selling it, and preparing a paperback edition. It has made a lot of money. It has been good for our egos. It has been fun. But to my eyes, it opened doors to the possibilities of the future: what will the authors write next? Will Silent Notes Taken be widely read? Will other books appear influenced by it? What kinds of projects are now possible to create? As the sign of Gotham Book Mart proudly stated: So many books, so little time.

Glen Nelson, NYC
1/2003