Metacrafting: the bookbinding workspace

The difference between a craft that I try once, think is really cool, but then don't keep up with, and one that I keep coming back to and improving my skills in, is a good workspace. The space I have is small – just a corner of my bedroom – but it has a few features that allow me to really focus and enjoy sitting down to work on my books.

First and foremost, there is ONE rule about the desk, only one, but it is unbreakable. The rule is this: No computers.

Ever.

Not mine, not my friends'. Not for a minute or an hour.

Laptops, iPads, tablets, they can go everywhere else in the world, but this is my ZONE, my artistic space. It is sacred and protected from the mundane ubiquity of technology, the cluttered space-hogging of keyboards, and the idle drudgery of facebook. (It's a little funny because my real work these days is as a web page designer, so I also work at creativity on a computer; but that has its own, different, space.)

There are no other rules for the workspace, not about keeping it clean and organized, or having only one project at a time, or anything like that, because I tend to find them stifling. I enjoy the primordial soup, as it were, of a busy desk area. I leave the organization to habit and necessity; it is a small enough space that things can't get too far out of hand.

Now for the actual physical features...

1. Twin bright desk lamps: First of all, they're practical; overhead light alone is just not going to cut it. Having two of them allows me to move them around so they cancel each others' shadows. Second of all, when I sit down at my desk and lean forward to switch on these two lights, flooding my work area with all the photons I could ever want, it puts me in a mindset that I'm really working on stuff now, not fooling around half-heartedly. It's time to get in the zone.
2. Rare earth magnet: You can't see it, but there is a large, cylindrical, neodymium magnet stuck to the base of one of the lamps. It holds my sewing needles and a collection of paperclips. Again, it's practical because it keeps me from losing track of sharp things somewhere in the chaos of the desk, and fun because, well, magnet! Done sewing – snick!
3. Cutting board: The board in the center of my desk is my main work surface. It protects the wooden desk underneath from glue and knife blades, offers a convenient writing surface for calculations and quick sketches, and hold a place against the encroaching chaos of the tools and materials around it.
4. Books: Kept close at hand on a hutch are the majority of the books I may need. The bottom shelf is full of instructionals and art books. Just above it is what I consider the "display shelf", with an assortment of Folio Society editions and other pretty bindings. It's good to have them close by for those moments when I need a role model or structural reference – and they work as a heavy, flat weight in a pinch.
5. Paper, board, and cloth storage: I have paper in stacks in one of my desk drawers. I have a plastic sleeve tacked to the inside of the desk by my left knee, full of sheets ready to hand. I have huge rolls of paper leaning in a corner of the room, and a pile of boards and cheap kraft paper on the floor. None of it is more than eight feet from me at any moment.
6. Cat – or more specifically, designated cat roost. It's a foregone conclusion that she is going to supervise my work. Might as well accept it and give her a place of her own. I'm always amazed that she, for her part, accepts the cushion.

Admittedly, this isn't quite the whole story. My dad, who shares my philosophy that a good craft needs a good space and good tools, has an entire basement room of the house devoted to woodworking. A surprising number of woodworking tools are very useful for bookbinding as well, so I make trips to the basement for certain portions of the binding process.

I would love to have a larger area – a huge slab of a table with cutting, gluing, and leather-skiving stations; whole storage bins full of supplies, with cubbies and shelves for all my paper sheets; space for a sewing frame and a book press; and a miniature workshop-within-a-workshop for gold leafing. It won't be happening any time soon and certainly not while I'm living with my parents, but it's something to work toward. For now I get along quite happily with my well-lit, magnet-endowed little space. I hope this maybe gave you some ideas for your own space!

New supplies!

Lucky me had a friend passing through Ann Arbor who volunteered to stop by Hollander's for me. The kind girl answering the store's phone let me call in an order at the last minute and got it ready for my friend to pick up. So, I was finally able to get some professional supplies.

The special delivery consisted of:

• two sheets of standard binder's board and one of Davey board,
• Italian book cloth in red,
• a sample packet of Italian book cloth,
• thin French linen cord for cord-bound books (no more stains or tangled hemp fibers), and
• my very own 6" bonefolder!

I now feel like a proper bookbinding initiate.

Leather stamping on a budget

Hey all, I'm back.  It's been a slow couple of weeks since my last post due to visiting relatives, a new workout schedule, and this thing where I need to get a real job.

I thought I'd write a post about how I did the leather stamping on my Tome project, since I think this info could be useful for many others starting out with leather work.

Traditionally, stamping is done with a wide array of specially designed, well, stamps: long metal rods with an inverted design cast on the end.  These range from simple alphabet stamps, to small images and maker's marks, to elaborate filigrees such as those proudly displayed on the site of this professional binder.  There are also tools made in basic shapes like circles, arcs, lines, and polygons for putting together a custom pattern; you can see some in use in this great belt-making video.  You get the idea that, to be able to tool leather the way you want, you're going to need to invest in a lot of specifically designed tools.

Unless you're very clever and patient.

Step 1: Stamp pattern

First we need to create a pattern which will be pounded into the leather to leave an imprint.  All you need for this is a cutout with well-defined edges in a material sturdy enough to withstand a bit of compressive force.  It also needs to be thick enough to sink into the leather. A couple millimeters of thickness is enough, though more is better.

Such a material is not hard to find; shockingly, even paper products will do.  My olive branch stamp was cut out of a piece of collage board.  Here's a list of possible materials and how best to use them:

• Tagboard / matboard / collage board / layered cardstock:  Anything you can cut out of a piece of cardboard, you can turn into a stamp; it just won't last long. Use this for very customized, one-off patterns; in my case, the olive branches and the volume number "I".
  
  Be sure, when you cut the pattern, to keep your knife blade perpendicular to the paper; the edges of the pattern must be crisp and square for the best impression.
  
  Unfortunately, no matter how clean your edges are, they won't survive more than a few uses; even one test use will start to flatten them down.


• Wire:  For lettering, knotwork designs, curlicues, or maybe even a simple filigree—so long as no strands overlap—use wire.  I used this to make the letters in "VOLUME".
  
  I'd recommend a thin-gauge craft wire such as the artistic wire available from Hobby Lobby, or any copper-core wire.  (Copper is best because it's soft and easy to shape.)  Square wire may be even better to get a nicer edge shape, though it is harder to find and usually available only in costly silver.


• Wood:  If you've got a whittling bent, why not use it?  A small block of wood can be carved into any shape, with varying degrees of relief for interior detail.  However, this is likely to suffer the same problem as the paper stamp, in that the edges will lose their crispness over a few uses.


• Metal sheet:  This would provide the best approximation of a professionally-made stamp and would last quite a long time.  However, it also requires the most special equipment: a jeweler's saw or maybe a band-saw to cut the edges, since a thin, easily cut sheet may not stamp deeply enough.  It might be possible to carve detail in the interior of the stamp, but I don't know what a metal-carving tool is and have no doubt it would make an awful sound.  Maybe a Dremel?


• Other? I'm sure more possibilities exist...stone, perhaps?  A smattering of sand or small pebbles could produce an interesting texture, though large stones may be too brittle to endure the hammer blows.  Plastic?  Bone?   Coins?  Look around your house and see what you can find already containing an interesting shape or texture -- but be sure it can stand the impact before you test it!

Step 2: Stamping rod

Leather stamps usually come on the end of a long rod, as you recall, but there's no need for the long rod to actually be connected to the stamp.  So all you need to apply the stamp is a thick metal rod a few inches long and a hammer to hit it with.  I sawed off the end of a 1/2"-diameter steel rod that I'd gotten from ACE Hardware, then filed one end flat to lie against the stamp.  Easy.

You may think there's no need at all for the rod part of this setup—you could hit the stamp directly with the hammer—and you're not entirely wrong.  However, the rod gives you a great deal more control over where pressure is being applied, and it keeps stray hammer strokes away from the delicate leather surface (not to mention your fingers).

Step 3: Applying the stamp

Position your stamp carefully.  If it's much larger than the rod, you may want to secure it with tape.  Now, place the rod over an edge and give the top of it a firm smack or two with the hammer, taking care not to let the stamp slip.  Proceed all the way around the edge of the stamp.  Make very sure the stamp doesn't slip at all out of place, or you will kick yourself, I guarantee it.

Be sure that the rod doesn't tilt over the edge of the stamp and leave its own crescent-shaped imprint in the leather, because that will also cause you to kick yourself.  Once an imprint is in, it pretty much doesn't come out.

Most tutorials I watched recommend that you dampen the leather with a sponge before tooling.  My personal experience was that this made no difference, except maybe to dull the leather surface, and I'm not sure why.  Perhaps it varies with leather type; I was using dyed calf leather.  A thicker, stiffer leather, or a raw, untreated leather, may stand in more need of the dampening treatment.

Pros, cons, and cautionary tales

This is a great setup if you're willing to put in a bit of time making the stamps, and have a lot of these materials around or can get them easily.  Custom stamps made in this manner may well be more versatile and easier to use.  Where was I going to find an olive-leaf stamp in exactly the shape I needed?  I could use a shape-elements set like in that video I linked, but that takes a great deal of planning and care; this was quick and easy.

However, if you have to go out to buy every single one of these things—the metal rod, the saw to cut it, the file to smooth it, the wire and pliers, all these various things—then you may be better off just buying a stamp set.  It will last longer and probably look more professional.  Furthermore, this method is not much good for custom tooling, where the tool needs to slide along the surface of the leather; there, you genuinely do need your shape to be attached to the rod.

Last but not least, this method is no good at all for gold leafing.  For that technique the stamp needs to be heated and pressed down with a rocking motion (not hammered), and unfortunately no paper stamp could stand the heat.  However, if all you want is a nice blind tooling, this will do.  Alternatively, you can always apply leather paint afterward for color, which can produce amazing results, too.

I hope others will find this information as useful as I did. If you have advice or suggestions, words to scold me for my cheap, lazy ways, or remonstrations that everyone does this and I'm an unoriginal hack, I'd love to hear them in the comments. Cheers!

Interested in more cheap, clever bookbinding alternatives? Mrs. Dethe at Cursed Cauldron Creations has created a handy list. She, too, is a young bookbinder just finding her way in the craft. Go show her some love!

The Tome, part IV: Preparing the cover

Remember how I said this book was going to have to be leatherbound? Well, it is, and now I have the leather. For this, I went to Ann Arbor last Saturday to pay homage to Hollander's Store of All Things Bookish and Beautiful. Seriously, they have everything. Try not to drool on the very expensive papers. (There, now you have my birthday wish list.)

They did have some of the best bookbinding leather, which is morocco goatskin, but it was prohibitively expensive and I don't think I'm exactly worthy of it yet. Instead, I brought home a small hide of calf leather in black, along with a sheet of French marbled paper for the endpapers.

To practice working the leather, I overlaid a scrap onto a carved block of wood, producing the J. R. R. Tolkien monogram in the photo. At this point, I started feeling a little overwhelmed by the magnitude of my first leather project. I very nearly chickened out and revised my plan to a quarter-bound book, using leather only on the spine and that marbled paper as the cover material. However, while that would still be good-looking and no doubt wiser, I don't think it would satisfy what I hoped to achieve with this journal. Remember, it has to be

• of an epic scale and
• ornate,

and furthermore, as per Brian's hints and nudges, it should ideally incorporate

• some Celtic knotwork,
• his 40k coat of arms, and
• a volume number (he'll have more birthdays).

If tooling, stamping, and/or gold leafing can be worked into that arrangement, all the better.

So, I reconsidered and came up with a feasible design. The main feature will be a raised insignia; I expect that such dimensionality will add an extra sense of weight to the tome, and besides, it's easier than tooling. The design is intentionally massive and not terribly detailed—or, as I like to think of it, uncluttered—which will be easier on my novice hands. However, I still find it aesthetically pleasing.

The olive branches and volume number will be tooled. Whether this will involve more or less work than cutting out the cardboard for the raised areas, I couldn't say, because that was an absolute pain.

Have a look at the spine, which will feature raised bands, and at the ribbon marker poking out from under the headband:

Right, so, the next step is to cover it all with leather. Wish me luck!

Go to: Part III | Part V

The Tome, Part II

Where to begin the new journal project? The cover materials and design will be vital to the final effect, but the structure of a book starts with its paper. In any book, that's what you spend most of your time looking at, at least as a background to the ink of its words; but with a journal, all there is at first is paper.

So, a good start means good paper, which means this time I can't just use normal printer paper. It's too plain and familiar, for one thing, but also too bright white, too flimsy, and just not at all suitable for a proper tome. So, I want paper that's at least off-white and of a decent weight, if not even luxurious. It also has to come in a large size. Most importantly, since this is a tome and I know its owner will do right by it, I fully expect ink and quill to be in regular usage, so it has to accept India ink without bleeding or spreading in weird ways. I found a few candidates:

• Manila drawing paper, 40# 12" x 18". Plenty heavy and inkable, the sheet size would allow for 9" x 12" pages, very respectable. However, it's maybe a little too heavy and too far from white.
• Strathmore 400 series drawing paper, 80# 12" x 18". Same size as the previous, it's off-white and should take ink just fine, but it's a bit dear and holy cow does it only come in that cardstock weight?
• Southworth ivory parchment paper, 24# 11" x 17". This stuff looks nice. It's the right weight, it's off-white, and should be thick enough to prevent bleeding. I'm a little apprehensive about the variegated color, which could affect legibility, but hey, it'll look more like an actual old manuscript, which is great.
• Color copy paper, 28# 11" x 17". Just included as a last resort; it's bright white printer paper, so ew, but it comes in appropriately large ledger-size sheets and has a respectable, not-too-heavy weight. Also it's cheap and so would allow for a very high page count.

In the end, I ordered the parchment paper. This was a good choice. Here's my test page, once I got it in person, being subjected to every writing utensil I could think to use -- ball-point pen, pencil, calligraphy ink in various colors, and finally Sharpie:

The calligraphy ink was completely invisible on the reverse, and it took a thick Sharpie to produce even mild bleedthrough. The pencil lines weren't even as hard to read as I'd feared. Pretty much any journal I've ever written in can go suck it.

So, I proceeded to fold twelve signatures of four sheets each, making for a book of 96 leaves or 192 pages. Final dimensions of each page: 8.5" x 11". That's larger than all but the big art books on my shelves, so I think my scale condition is satisfied -- and with what style! I'm having an affair with this paper.

Don't give me that look, I'll NEVER apologize for love.

TO BE CONTINUED! Next up, I'll show you the stitching and gluing of the spine, maybe more if I get a lot achieved.

Go to: Part I | Part III