The line “i continue to continue” kept ringing for me: staunch, solid, no reason needed for being. When casting about for something I could do for my community in those dire days of being afraid of each other’s breath, I got this crazy idea to paint a mural of that single line.

I read fast, and then I read slow, and I often set it aside for months and see what sticks with me. What surfaces when I pick it up again later. I know I’ve hit on a poem or part of a poem I want to print when it makes me feel something big and I can’t get it out of my head.

What a poem. It makes me feel at once hopeful and sad, sweet and desolate, longing and content with not knowing. Many lines tug at me and make me cry—in a way that feels like the small child inside of me crying—because she's being seen.

For me the size of a notebook matters a lot and it matters to have more than one. And to always have one! I think differently on the road than at home and while I rarely look back at anything I wrote, I feel a panic if I don't have a physical space for writing.

I love the mystery and the strength it holds. The lack of translation makes a weaving happen that reminds me of how much I don't know, and can't know.

While printing this piece, in the literal act of making, I had the strangest feeling that this broadside already existed. Like I found it rather than made it. I've experienced this before but I still cannot explain it.

It’s a simple practice. Write three pages, first thing every morning, longhand. Can't imagine not writing them.

People often gawk when I give a typesetting demo, sliding each metal letter one by one into the composing stick, tilted at an angle to keep them in line, upside down and backwards.

The steel book saga continues! We’ve arrived at the cover treatment, which consisted of etching the cover art into the steel and then applying a rusted patina.

Inspired by Eileen Wallace’s work, I knew a book with steel covers was possible. 18 months and many prototypes and doubt-filled days later, I made it work.

Riveting may seem an odd topic to file under bookbinding, but nevertheless it came up in a recent commission. I used copper rivets to attach the metal book covers.

We’re packing up the Stern & Faye Print Farm, wondering after each object and its potential destination. I don’t even have a shop of my own yet – that’s to come a year and a half later –