I am making another Red Mare: This one will be number 30.
I have made Red Mare through the years—first just June, now both of the Solstice.
Making is a meditation; there is a process, and each part of the process is a meditation.
First, there’s the rude saw of investment—the manuscript has a hue, and choosing paper was once a meditation in the tenderness of touch: what will hold the ink, what will embrace the text.
Also, the secret petticoat of the flyleaf—over the years, it had been mulberry inclusion, Tibetan handmade with seashells, bamboo paper and this edition is a Japanese Onuro Lace.
And always are the hours of sewing, a one knot stitch for the binding that a teacher said once was from Japan, too, as are the sheets folded raw edge to the seam—this edition, the text too has texture.
But of all the aspects of Red Mare, the first meditation is the block.
To blockprint, the image must be reversed, letters and numbers are backwards, and the block must be carved to reveal itself. There are technical tricks, but habit has me drawing directly onto the block—seeing the reversals under my pen. For this edition, and for the first time, i took notes.
They are incomplete, because this edition is still under construction. There are thirteen sections: a log of this project...
1
it’s seeing in reverse
the direction of flow
the shadows change—the light changes color in autumn
spectrum. Spectral
it is I
(hybrid2)
the walking bones
speaking with my hands
2
carving each negative away
the blade
this knife, the direction, how much will be seen
and always stopping making water
3
(20 hours after medical treatment, unsmiling cheshire)
to see what will be read in reverse
to just look
sometimes too ill to pick up the knife
(chime)
And there’s a sudden memory of Red Mare at book fairs—she was out, seen; an edition is a crop, a litter of poetry. She was seen in cities, in Tampa, in New Orleans. Each edition a micro collection of ready to read fingers to fiber.
4
the lines of the light
ever steady in motion
steady
the knife
against the light
(hybrid3)
a look
a cut
a line
ever in reverse
reverse reveal
5
stillness
hands shaking
6
the small islands
the current of the cut
the flow of the knife.
7
sharpen the knives
spill water on stone
eyes blur
hands shake
(hybrid4)
8
cut the line backwards
and still see the flow
9
the paper
can catch fight, an organza in the hue of first light
10
the plate rests
awaits testing
the paper waits
her eventual runway
i await with myself
in hunger
11
suddenly pink
print the plate
press azul oscuro
and shifting colors
ever because
(hybrid5)
12
as the prints dry
air and paper
touch the night
13
folding
what it is to
this touching.
Note Below: Next come the cotton
Next comes the needle
Planned release is always to honor the Solstice.
Su Zi is a writer, poet and essayist who produces a handmade chapbook series called Red Mare. She has been a contributor to GAS from back when it was called Gypsy Art Show, more than a decade ago.
Check out her author page on Amazon.
%20(1)-2.jpeg)