Making a rounded corner in leather

A couple times now I've wanted to round the corners on a book cover. When the corners are square, there are plenty of techniques to miter the fold-overs—for example, Eden Workshops goes into this in some depth. For these techniques, however, I struggled to see the geometry working out as nicely on a rounded corner.

A quick investigation on Google produced no help beyond this video tutorial. It seems promising. The basic idea is just to mold the leather over the corner without cutting it. The excess leather is gathered into ridges and pressed down as much as possible, and the pliability of damp leather allows this. However, I must not have the knack of it—there is always too much excess for my taste, creating a really bulky corner which can prevent the book from closing flush.

I wanted two things: a more or less flat profile on the fold-over, and complete coverage with leather in to about 1". To get rid of the bulk, the only solution I could see was to cut darts into the leather. Here's what I ended up doing.

And some actual photos:

I'm not sure if the solution I've come up with is an especially great one; in fact I already know of a couple ways it could be improved. For example, right at the end of the fold there's a small bit of bulging that messes with the roundness of the corner. More than that, there is an obvious fold—two, in fact—on each corner. Ideally, everything would be one smooth continuum. Still, it's a starting point, and I actually find this technique rather pretty and deliberately crafted.

I would however love to work out other ways of dealing with the excess bulk. It does seem possible to create a flat rounded corner without cutting any darts, as seen on the purple Bible here. I suspect some leather has been cut off the corner in that photo, but not very much; the rest of the bulk has been gathered and pushed out to the sides.

Structure of a commercially bound book

I've been interested in the many different ways to stitch a book's pages together. I started out by learning the structure of a book on cords, which I think is a fairly typical structure for a hand-bound book. It's far from the only one, though, with perhaps the most obvious alternative being the Coptic binding, which uses no cords. I've been compiling a gallery of spine structures in this flickr gallery, if you're curious.

Here's a structure which most artisans typically wouldn't bother to learn, since it's a mass-produced structure assembled by machine. It uses thread and is a little more sturdy than the ubiquitous glue-only perfect binding. I found it in a bonded leather Bible I was taking apart recently, and I suspect it's the structure behind most mass market hardcovers.

Why learn it? Only for re-binding purposes; in my case, the client wanted a section removed from the text block, and I had to figure out how to sew back together the two parts on either side that I had left.

As you can see, there are no cords or tapes. On the inside, at the center of each signature, lengths of thread are visible; in the book I worked on, there were four, though I've only drawn three here.

The structure has most in common with a Coptic binding insofar as the stitches are chained together by looping around each other, rather than passing around a cord or getting sewn through a leather spine.

Unlike in a Coptic binding, there are multiple leads instead of just one. Each pair of adjacent holes represents one lead of thread. The needle goes in the first hole of the pair, jumps down to the other on the inside of the book, passes out and forms a lark's head around the stitch below it, then passes in and jumps back up to the first hole. From there it passes out and into the next signature, then repeats.

This forms one chain of herringbone stitches and one chain of simple stitches for each pair of holes. On the inside, doubled lengths of thread are visible with short gaps between them. (In a Coptic binding, the threads are not doubled and there are no gaps.)

The binding I worked with seemed quite sturdy; though it was about a hundred years old, none of the stitches had broken, though the glued backing was cracked into two sections. It was also quite easy to work with once I found the pattern. I was able to cut out the undesired group of pages, then tie in new lengths of thread on the four leads to sew the one loose signature onto the rest of the text block. I then covered the spine with glue, added super, and cased it in to a leather cover.

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!

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!

In retrospect...

Of course my first two book projects featured a lot of mistakes. (Finished pictures of the second one are coming, I promise. It's just...there's this thing my camera does where it sucks...)

Anyway, I thought it would be good to go over the things I screwed up and will try to fix for next time. Learning curve, go!

The LotR Poetry Book

Find new cords for the spine.  The hemp yarn I used felt like the right strength and thickness, but its lumpy, tangled fibers were frustrating to fray out for pasting onto the cover boards.  The yarn was also dyed, so wet glue picked up the color and became a vessel for blue stains all over my pages.  I need to find undyed cord with straight, uniform fibers.

Stitch on handmade headbands.  The book looks unfinished without a headband, and no place near me sells the pre-made strips.  I did put a headband on the journal project, but see my comments there; it still needs work.

Allow room for a French groove.  Like headbands, the French groove and raised shoulders next to the spine, which seem to result from a combination of text block backing and careful cover board placement, add a touch of finish and class to the book.  Next time, I'll place the cover boards a little further from the spine to leave room for the groove; but see also this post explaining how to achieve the groove with a split coverboard.

Find an appropriate cloth for the spine.  The red paper I found for the covers is absolutely perfect, both in its vibrant crimson hue and its impressed cloth texture, but the black jeans material on the spine drops the ball.  It's too thick, for one thing, so the unshapely headcap looks even worse with cloth puckering at the corners.  For another, the dense weave picks up whatever dandruff and fluff comes its way.  Lesson learned; just get proper book cloth, available from places like Hollander's, or at least use something thin.

Be glue-conscious.  As careful as I was, it wasn't enough...I got a huge smudge all over the spine cloth, and a few flecks on the title page.  Wax paper and EXTREME caution are required when handling glue.

Embellish the content. The published LotR books universally feature a rich tradition of illustrations and accents from Tolkien's hand. Mine uses only his monogram on the cover, and a very simple three-circle motif on the section headers. Normally I espouse minimalism, BUT the title page, bland as it is, would benefit from an ornament like this Eye of Sauron motif.  Basically, don't under-decorate; the book needs some complexity, especially to fit into a wider tradition.

Learn to hot-stamp gold leaf.  The monogram is already getting scratched, so the adhesive in the kit I bought is under suspicion.  I may have to saw an aluminum stamp and try the advice in this wonderful, illustrated tutorial.

The Tome

Pay attention to paper grain.  This didn't occur to me until I found admonitions published in various tutorials.  Apparently the book goes together much better when the paper grain—of the pages, the cover board, covering material, endpapers, everything—runs vertically.  With this project, I didn't have much wiggle room; to use the full extent of my ledger-size paper, I had no choice but to fold my paper a certain way.  In the future, I'll tend to prefer square or oversize sheets which can be oriented as necessary to suit grain.

Sewing thread is no good for headbands.  Well, unless maybe it's really thick.  Waxed thread is also preferable, else the fibers will start to fray out and look messy.

Use low relief for raising a design under leather.  Even the edge of my kraft-paper hinge was visible through the leather, whereas too high of a relief makes it VERY difficult to mold the leather properly around the design.  A thin applique (only a few paper-widths) is quite sufficient to raise a design under leather; consider this journal, where the edges of the applique seem also to be tapered.  (A higher relief for bands on the spine is fine, as no detail is at risk.)

Not really a mistake, but something I learned on this one: Flour paste is basically awesome.  I still used a lot of PVA glue, which sets more quickly, but flour paste is nice when pasting paper to paper.  It's also ridiculous and fun to see how food becomes a useful structural component of a book.

So, that's all for now.  I'm not really sure what my next project will be, but I've got a lot of materials on hand now.  I'll probably make a journal or a rebound trade paperback, as those are the most marketable options.