A Flax Commonplace (2022)

This commonplace is a celebration of that miracle fiber Linum usitatissimum, or flax.

Following in the tradition of commonplace books, this lively book was made with my handmade raw flax and hemp papers, Awagami kozo washi, and Nepalese lokta papers. The tiny flax papers were colored with earth ochres and indigo, and the story was inkjet printed on kozo. Lokta kami-ito (paper thread) was prepared, hand spun, then stitched by me, which changes the ‘hand’ of those papers. The pamphlet binding was sewn with a fine linen bookbinding thread.

The edition took about 50 years to fully assemble, and it concludes with the fibers harvested from one stalk of vintage flax from the first plot of flax that I grew from fine Swedish seed in Star Lake, NY in 1981. The flax and hemp papers were all made by me, the kozo is from Japan, and the kami-ito was hand spun by me from Nepalese lokta paper. All of the small papers were pigmented with indigo or earth ochres, hand pulled by me in my old farmhouse kitchen.
* Edition of eight * March, 2022 * Velma Bolyard, wake robin, Canton NY *

$545.00 + $10.00 (for non-US please email me directly to purchase)

November, a Map (2016)

One half sheet of Arches text wove (velin) cotton mould-made paper, eco/contact printed by Velma at Wake Robin. My's poem about November (a favorite month) was letterpress printed at Mark McMurray’s Caliban Press. It was then folded and torn down into a map or meander book. It is presented in a Strathmore paper case, die cut by Mark and hand stitched by Velma with linen thread. November, A Map was printed on an antique Washington Hoe Press by Mark with Velma's help. November, A Map, the printing journey, began in March 2016 and was completed at the autumnal equinox.

$225.00 + $10.00 (for non-US please email me directly to purchase)
Thank you so much, Velma, for the delightful little book. I have toyed with botanical dying and bundling before, but tend to get fearful and drift away. Thanks for the wonderful inspiration, I shall get going again and experiment with what I have rather than what I think I should have. The kettle is waiting and the yard is growing a variety of plants to try. Again, thanks, your little book is a joy. —Susan

Poor (Wo)man's Asparagus

Poor (Wo)man's Asparagus is a tiny celebration about a big thing in my life as a papermaker, milkweed paper. It includes seven pages of narrative, and a sample of my first milkweed paper. That batch was gathered while I was skiing on thick snow pack in March on my meadow. The milkweed was stripped and cooked in my kitchen, and combined with tororo aoi that I grew here on my place. This little book was made in memory of my friend John Green who taught me about the North Country, took me hiking, and cooked up some milkweed for me to eat. Varied inks and covers, open edition.

Currently unavailable for purchase.


A Little Book About Shifu
and Botanical Pressure Printing (2016)

I decided that it would be nifty to have a little instruction book that was also inspirational. In preparation for teaching in Australia in 2016 I wrote a text and sent it to Carol J Blinn at Warwick Press. She designed and printed a standard and a special edition which I took with me. I have reprinted it myself in a second, special edition which is now available. The book is covered in a printed sheet of Arches Text Wove (Velin), and includes several tipped in photographs. In the very center lives a tiny shifu square, made of lokta kami-ito, spun and woven on a stump loom.

out of print
‘November, a Map’ is so very beautiful.  I just finished spending some time with it.  

Aside from imagining a wandering through your autumn world, it brings to mind my life long love of Fall, memories of making similar “puzzle” books with students over the years, and how the honoring of the things we love is a poem.  I love that the words “book”, “paper”, “cloth”, “stitch”, and “thread” are in it, along with the ten tender stitches that follow the plant printed curve on the page.

It felt like a ceremony- 
first reading through it in book shape, 
opening it up on a quilt in the sunshine, to see the whole of it, and how the textures and patterns in each page connect, 
flipping it all over to see new designs and places to touch.  

It is now slipped back into its envelope (blue!), leaning near, on my desk, and shining its peaceful rich autumn moon.  

I feel enriched and grateful to have this to gaze at and hold.
— Hazel