I can get lost in the life that exists in the margins of manuscripts, from a trailing foliate finial of some decorative capital to the fox in bishop’s miter holding forth to a congregation of unsuspecting ducks. Likewise, life’s marginalia often leads me down rabbit holes that prove both a source of great joy and procrastination, doodles inspire a story, an afternoon in a friend’s studio learning bookbinding becomes an utterly distracting passion, and one thing leads very much to another.

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Lantern Boxes

I’m indebted to my friend Kiyoshi for the inspiration for the lantern boxes. Years ago, on one of his trips home to Japan, he sent me a box of candy in a beautiful box which still sits upon my bureau. The box, that is. The candy is long gone. Years later when I went to visit him, I kept an eye out for the same sort of box to bring back to friends but could not find them. I did, however, see rolls and rolls of Japanese paper that from afar looked beautiful. I say from afar because I steered clear of them. I know myself: if ever I started buying, I would lose containment. Paper is like fabric is like chocolate: in my end is my beginning. (She says, utterly misappropriating T.S. Eliot.)

Last spring I started experimenting. I call them “lantern boxes” because to me the chiyogami paper stands out like light in the darkness against the black yatsuo paper. I’m also working on a completely different line of boxes which I’m calling Harvard classics. More on those at another time! For now, here’s the catalogue.