2026

Q: How did you discover book arts?

In 1968, Dave and I, newlyweds and fresh out of college, moved to Chicago where he was studying for the ministry. As you can imagine this was a watershed period in our personal history as well as the country’s. Chicago was my first experience where I felt art was all around me.

I worked as a librarian in the Lincoln Park Library, part of the Chicago Public Library system. I was responsible for Children’s Books as well as the art displays. I think that’s where I began my own art practice, with Nicolaides’ The Natural Way to Draw.

Book arts came a little later but I could see what I was drawn to in children’s books like Where the Wild Things Are and my favorite, Rain Makes Applesauce.

exhibition. I was hooked. I joined in 2014, back when the annual meetings were in person. After awhile I volunteered to be on the curatorial committee, and then I did it again and again. Eventually I joined the board. I continue to be impressed with the creativity of our members, but also how generous people are in helping those who are just beginning their art practice. Thank you, Dorothy.

Q: Tell us about your workspace.

My space is very simple. The studio is a 10’ x 10’ bedroom with one large table and one small table. There’s no complicated equipment. I do have a 1’ x 1’ handmade paper press. The workspace in our home in Arizona is a bit smaller because it also serves as a guest room with a Murphy bed.

Q: This might be the time to ask you if you have a work motto, because we had a good chat about this.

Limitations free you up! And this is not just in making art.

Q: Describe your perfect day.

It begins with coffee. Yes! And then a walk. When I return home I begin my art practice, which ideally lasts about three hours. In the afternoon I read, and then in the evening relax—either staying home or seeing friends. This is my ordinary day and my perfect day—back to limitations being freeing.

Q: What is your next project?

Immediately, I’m working on some postcards. In the back of my mind I’m thinking about the theme for next year’s exhibit, “Field Work.” I’m quite excited about this theme; it seems very accessible. Starting this month, I’ll be chairing the Program Committee and I’m really looking forward to that.

Q: Lastly, how will you appear in the next life?

As a playful sea otter.

Belinda Hill

Q: How did you discover book arts?

It’s been a circuitous route, to say the least. I ended up earning degrees in very diverse fields, beginning with a B.S. in agriculture and eventually a PhD in computer education. But I started out studying art in college. This was the same time I became a Baha’i, and from the spiritual teachings, I knew I wanted to do something that served humanity. As a naive 18-year-old, I didn’t see how art did that.

Art and crafts were a part of my childhood. I did crafts with my grandmother, who was always knit-ting or quilting. As a child, I did drawing and water- colors, and that’s why I wanted to study art. It sounds like computer work is very different from art, but it’s really not. There’s always the opportunity to be creative. And that’s what I taught in the classroom—how to inspire creativity.

While I was at St. Martin’s College, I also taught the Arts and Movement class, where I worked to inspire student teachers to see the importance of integrating the Arts into their lesson plans. Book Arts popped up in children’s literature; I didn’t want my students to ask their children to write a book report, but to create a mini-book about what they just read. I didn’t know it was Book Arts then, but it was.

Q: Can you name some people who have influenced your work?

I had to think about this for a bit, and then it came to me—Friedrich Frobel. The book Inventing Kindergarten describes his innovative educational theory, which built on first teaching young children art and design, and academic subjects later. He was a naturalist whose insights eventually evolved into the Frobel Kindergarten movement. Frobel’s work influenced people like Frank Lloyd Wright, Paul Klee, Piet Mondrian, and other Bauhaus artists. After studying his theories, you can see his ideas in the work of these artists.

Frobel called the skills he taught “gifts,” encouraging students to make connections with what they’ve learned. This is the intersection between art and education that is so important to me.

Another favorite artist is my daughter. And I wonder if growing up in a household where art was supported from early childhood molded or strengthened her creativity.

Yeah, Just try it works. This Baha’i teaching resonates: “Service to humanity is worship.” I want to encourage this positive, creative, energy especially at this time when there’s a lot of negative energy around. Whatever we can do to help people find this, I want to be part of.

I once had an avatar who held a question mark in one hand and a book in the other. “Ask questions” could be another motto.

Q: What is your next project?

I’m teaching Chinese Thread Books (also called Treasure Books). These are books with little pockets. I did a lot of experimenting with paper, folds, and glues. If I’m attracted to something, I learn about it, perfect it, and then teach. This spring I taught this at Community Print in Olympia and at Newport’s Paper and Book Festival. I want to help people be creative and this process works for me.

Q: Describe your perfect day.

I like being who I am, I like my age, my knowledge, my skills. So any day is my perfect day. We live on a hilltop in the woods and each morning I see the sun come through the fog opening up all sort of possibilities.

Q: Any last words?

I joined PSBA because there was a workshop I really wanted to take. Since then I have continued to benefit from both the opportunities and challenges that are offered to members. Among the opportunities are working with other members of the organization. I learned so much and gained new friends from work-ing on the exhibition committee for two years. Now as president I get to benefit further from getting to know and work with many of you.

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LeeAnn Campos

Q: How did you discover book arts?

My first book was made out of foam core and acrylic paint. I cut figures of pine trees, and painted snow on them. It was a Christmas card for my soon to be husband. That was in the ‘80s and I didn’t do anything in that style of art for a long time. I thought I needed someone to show me how. Then in 2016 I started going to Becky Frehse’s class and that’s really where it all came together.

I’ve been dabbling with art since grade school. With book arts I’m able to incorporate all the things I’m interested in like calligraphy or painting. Not so long ago I thought I’d never be a painter and then I started painting so it could be part of a book.

Q: Tell us who has influenced your own artist books.

Becky’s class was the beginning for me and my first reaction was: why didn’t I know about this before? Becky has been a model as an artist and as a guide in introducing me to so many different styles. I’ve been attending every Thursday from 9:30 to11:30 for nine years now.

Another artist whose works inspire me is Suzanne Moore—I love her color and calligraphy. Her work is remarkable, almost intimidating—she’s done what I wish I could do.

My long creative journey has been inspired by music and art teachers, and multiple classical composers, including Gershwin, Puccini, and Brahms. My undergraduate voice teacher at PLU, Barbara Poulshock, was a mentor and wonderful friend. She wrote a series of songs using Emily Dickinson’s poems, and dedicated

“Some Keep the Sabbath Going to Church” to me. I’ve made several books using that poem.

Q: Well, speaking of PSBA, how did you come to join?

Becky pointed the way and I stumbled in. PSBA expanded my view to the possibilities of what a book can be. The people in PSBA are so creative, intelligent, informed and generous.

Q: Tell us about a book that has special meaning to you.

The book I entered into this year’s exhibition TRABAJAR LOS CAMPOS (to work in the fields) has a lot of meaning for me. I learned a part of history

I didn’t know anything about. In 1942, a deal was signed by Mexico and the United States to alleviate the labor shortage in the U.S. during WWII; the agreement created the Bracero program. Bracero means “one who works with his arms” or field hand.

In my book, the hands, green and brown, are rough from harvesting. The coarse twine binds vegetables, fruits, and this book. Gray, homesick figures toil from south to north; jolly tiles evoke the colors of home and family.

Q: Tell us about your workspace—where you make your books.

I always have a mess on the dining room table! There’s always a project in some stage of completion. It’s always been like this for me. And I store my supplies and works-in-progress in an old dresser next to the table, and an old silver cabinet.

Q: After all the work you’ve shown me, I see you are a musician, a painter, a book artist, a potter—so, now what is your next project?

I’ve gotten into negative painting. It’s the coolest darn thing—it’s where you take a piece of paper and you draw a background or surroundings of an object, leaving the object itself as a lighter or brighter area. The cover of TRABAJAR LOS CAMPOS is negative painting.

Just a few months ago I tried my friend’s pottery wheel. I had no clue how difficult it was.

I think my next project begins with tubs of F. Carlton Ball pottery beads a friend gave me. There are hundreds and hundreds of beads. My challenge is to figure out how to make them into a book.

Q: If you could invite five people to dinner—from the present or the past—who would they be?

I had to think about this for a bit and then decided to divide the men and women because the conversation would be so different. The women’s table: Emily Dickinson (of course), Pauline Viardot, Clara Schumann, Elly Ameling, and Jane Austen. The men’s table: Arthur Yenk (my grandfather), George Gershwin, Francis Poulenc, Ralph Vaughan Williams and Claude Monet. I’d love to hear a conversation with my grandfather, who was also a com-poser, and George Gershwin.

Q: Given the list of people at your dinner table, tell us how music fits in your life?

It’s a very important component of my life especially my work with the Bremerton Symphony Chorale. I’ve been its music director for 21 years. I prepare the singers for stand-alone performances, and concerts with the Bremerton WestSound Symphony. The works have included Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, the Mozart Requiem, and the Poulenc “Gloria”, which I conducted with orchestra at our 2024 Christmas concert.

Q: Describe your perfect day.

Gardening with my children. Yesterday we went to the garden shop and spent over two hours just walking around, looking and picking out plants. We came home to plant the veggies—we’re going to be urban farmers.

Q: This might be the time to ask you if you have a work motto.

From Emily Dickinson “I’m going all along…”

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Carrie Larson

Q: Where or how did book arts become part of your art practice?

I went to Whitman and had an amazing professor, Keiko Hara. Their book arts program was just getting started. I had always loved art and writing. And here was this medium that combined the two, where the concept or the idea was the driver. My visual practice involves other things, but it’s book arts that I see as the foundation for everything else.

Keiko was a mentor and a role model. She is the one who opened the world of book arts for me. In my junior year, I was one of three students who spent the summer with her in her home studio work-ing on a printmaking project on shoji screens. It was that immersion, living with that kind of discipline that became the foundation of how I wanted to work.

Q: Do you remember your first book?

I do. My third-grade teacher had us write poems and illustrate them. She assembled them into books using a Japanese stab binding. 

But, my first book in college was a piece that involved writing, layered colors and wax drippings. In binding it, I stitched it shut so the personal stayed private. I think I still have it. I love this about book arts, where the viewer can either work to find the full story or can view the book just as an art object.

Q: How did you develop as an artist? And how do you work now?

After college, I fell into a job at an architectural firm, which was great in terms of understanding three-dimensional space and color scheme work. I also learned a little bit about succeeding as a small business (applied this to survival as a working artist). I did that for about five years and realized I couldn’t maintain an art practice and a full-time job.

The job gave me the skills where I could put together gigs to help pay the bills and still have the large blocks of time dedicated to my art practice.

Now I have more time and my studio. It’s an attic space with skylights, but it’s tiny, so I always spill out to the rest of the house. At the beginning of a project, there’s usually the deep dive, but after that, I can work on components.

Q: I’m so impressed with your permanent installation, “Vital Flow” at Grays Harbor College. How did something like that come about?

I’ve had solo exhibitions and have submitted work for juried exhibitions, so I’ve become familiar with the application processes. In this case, there was a call for a piece that would speak to the identity of Grays Harbor and Pacific County. I did a lot of research, both historical and geological. “Vital Flow” feels like a culmination of things that I’ve learned or felt, or experienced. It felt like I’m bringing everything of myself,

of what I’ve learned over the years, to this. It also left me feeling a little adrift afterwards, kind of okay, now what?

Q: Who are the artists whose work you’re drawn to?

I really like the color field artists like Marc Rothko and Helen Frankenthaler. That use of color is astonishing to me; I’m drawn to abstract work generally. Last year we went to Houston to see the dedicated Rothko collection and it felt like being in sacred space.

Q: What’s your next project?

Still in very early stages—the title is “Weathering,” and it has to do with the different types of weather and resilience. I’d like to do some of the images in cutouts. I love the shadow play effect.I’m thinking about creating it as a scroll. It’ll be my work-in-progress update for the Olympia MeetUp group.

Q: As an artist in a small town, what is your social support?

This is why PSBA has been so good for me. When the meetups first started, I knew I needed to make the effort to make the drive because I don’t really have a local artistic network. There’s a growing arts community that has gotten more vibrant, but during my early years in Hoquiam, I felt I was in my own little solitary space. That might have been good for developing my own vocabulary as an artist, but still pretty isolating.

Q: That brings us to PSBA, can you say something about your connection?

Lifeline is a strong term, but PSBA is my connection to people who are also passionate about this form.

I know we’re kindred spirits. PSBA has been wonderful for me. I love the lunchtime lectures, where in one hour we get to see what’s possible. In the workshops, you experience such generosity—the preparation time, materials, organization, presentation style that works for different styles of learning, and then the workshop leaders being available to help

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Mark Hoppmann

Q: Hearing you describe your experience of growing up on a Nebraska wheat farm and attending school in a one-room schoolhouse was a surprising beginning for an artist. Can you describe those early years as an artist?

My favorite day was Friday, when we spent the last hour of the day making any kind of art we wanted in that little schoolhouse. My mother bought me an easel and my first set of oils when I was nine. She made sure we had books in the house. That may be where I fell in love with books.

In my sophomore year, I had a scholarship to an art camp at the University of Kansas—that was the tipping point, that was when I knew this is what I wanted to do. In high school, I spent study hall each day, painting in the school art studio. At age 16, I sold my first painting.

When it was time for college, I chose Drake University because they had a Year in Florence program, and I knew that was what I wanted. My parents were supportive, but they couldn’t take time off from the farm, so I had to make my way on my own to Des Moines. First time I was in an area large enough to have stoplights. In my study year abroad, Florence was my home base. With a trusty Eurail pass, I traveled every weekend—Paris, Rome, Amsterdam, and Innsbruck for the Olympics.

Q: Do you have a favorite book?

I do, it’s my go-to book—My Name is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok. I met someone in a framing shop who gave me a copy. A copy sits next to my work area ever since. That book was my only artistic support for years until I started doing the Western Art Show circuit, and I found my art community for the first time.

Being interested in traditional books as well as artist books, I’m an active member of the Book Club of Washington (BCW) and a sometime contributor to their biannual publication, The Journal.

Q: And where does PSBA come into the story?

When I did my first artist book of Wallace Stevens’ Thirteen Ways of Looking at a BlackBird, I discovered the book arts. After receiving a Tacoma Artists Initiative Program (TAIP) grant from the city of Tacoma, I met Jane Carlin and joined PSBA. The community was there, so I joined the board, I volunteered to manage the website, and I eventually became president of the Board for three or four years. Soon, most of my time was taken up with PSBA—working the calendar, special projects, and general admin work.

But by the time the pandemic hit, I was ready to pull back from the administrative side of PSBA and return to my own artwork. I had also just finished a three-month residency at Charles Wright Academy.

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Peter Newland

Q: Peter, can you give us some of the highlights of your path toward book arts?

In 1967, after graduating from Whitman in Walla Walla, WA, I traveled east, first to perform with the Dartmouth Summer Rep and then on to NYU for my MFA in Theatrical Management. Since then, I’ve thought of myself as a producer.

Following graduate school and my Army service in Vietnam, there were numerous career roles. My theatrical training has manifested in many of them. In 1972, I joined the construction business my grandfather established in 1944, and which the fourth generation in America now runs. In 1985, on April Fool’s Day, I struck out on my own by establishing Hill Street Investment, specializing in real estate development. I served two terms as an elected commissioner of the Snohomish County PUD and on the Washington State Arts Commission. I have always been involved in the arts.

In 1992, I met Robyn, who, as Gallery Director of the Snohomish County Arts Council, was staging an invitational woodcarving show that included my Legends of the Forest Carousel featuring five James Toner hand-carved PNW animals. The carousel is hand cranked and has appeared at charity events, schools, and private parties throughout the Northwest for the past three decades. Before the cranking starts, the children are asked to make the sound of the animal they are riding. Pure theater!

During my time as a PUD Commissioner, our headquarters building was doubled in size. With my construction background, I was involved with the design and construction, which included a 165-seat, fully equipped theater/auditorium for staff training, school programming, and community group use. To open the new building, I was the executive producer of an original, award-winning educational stage show called The Electric Circus. We bused in over 3000 elementary school kids to see the show and provided teacher packets and student workbooks. In 1999, I curated The Art of Puppetry exhibit. That show holds the record for the most well-attended art exhibit in Snohomish County history.

My Everett office included a large conference space for community gatherings, conversations, and art shows. My introduction to Artists’ Books was a collaboration with Robyn, creating five boxed portfolios for an exhibit by James L. Davis. As we met more book artists and attended exhibits, we began incorporating the book arts into our community work.

All the projects and artists’ books we’ve made over the years have been collaborations. First, we started collecting, and then said to ourselves this is something we might do someday. Our first book, similar to a Little Golden Book, was used in a campaign to purchase new equipment for three playgrounds in Everett. It turned out fundraising can be fun! There were a lot of people involved in the production. Inside Chance by Linda Smith was one of the first artist books we collected. We also used it for fundraising. It remains a favorite.

In 1999, the Puppeteers of America festival celebrating the millennium was on the UW campus, and I was able to pull together an exhibit featuring the Mantell Manikins, whose first performance was in 1902 at Everett’s Central Theater.

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Anna Moore

How did you begin as an artist?

I was always drawing, and when I was thinking about college, I thought along the lines of illustration. Then I found graphic design. I didn’t realize at the time it was going to be a perfect fit for my brain because art is matched with both the analytical and functional application.

Book Arts—where does it fit in your career path?

One freshman requirement at Chapman University was a book arts class taught by Rachelle Chuang. It was so cool, novel, and special—the class really got me. I make a lot of things—I’m a compulsive maker, and books are the perfect melding of the things that attract me. I feel very lucky to have found it. That was my introduction; I hadn’t seen an artist's book before. Afterwards, in all my school projects, I then tried to figure out how I could make it into a book. I’m intrigued by the stretchiness of what a book can be.

I graduated from college in 2019, shortly before the world shut down. After a bit of time, I got remote graphic design work, very technical, precise, and heavily branded graphic design. I also love that kind of work—it scratches an itch—as a designer, you have to follow systems and rules. My next design job was completely opposite—very inventive, no rules. And then last year, I got my first artist residency, and it was in the Arctic.

Later, I thought, if I return and go back to work, I’m never going to make use of this experience in the creative way I want to. And so I quit. I gave myself six months to only do my own work. It was the first time I was being creative just for me.

I did the Seattle Book Arts Fair right before my trip, and I started to sell my work for the first time. And that’s been fun. After my six-month sabbatical, I’m now doing freelance work and working part-time in a gallery in Port Townsend, doing installation and odds and ends. And I’m trying to make a book a month. I still have time to make things.

I can’t let a residency in the Arctic Circle pass without asking you what it was like?

This was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I was on a boat with 28 other artists, cut off from the world. The things I’ve been attracted to my whole life were the north and south poles, outer space, and space travel. As a kid, I wanted to be an astronaut. The Arctic environment was as close as you can get to being on another planet. There’s nothing to give you a sense of scale or perspective. I had never experienced anything like that before.

When I returned, I thought about how I decide what things to make, how my brain works in what I make, how I focus. I really thought about my process for the first time because it had my full attention. It gave me the push to work on my own stuff.

Tell us about some of your work.

I’m not precious about my work; the books are all utilitarian in a way—no gloves necessary. Things are meant to be touched. Most of my books are educational or informational—it’s the graphic designer in me. Also, I put effort into the packaging for the same reason. I love a weird form, I love a weird box—the aha moment of figuring it out. And a lot of what I make is replicable.

I also love the research part of making a book, and some of them took a lot of research. It’s fun to pull in many processes and steps and bring them together into one thing.

Can you walk us through one special project?

What’s your next project?

Well, the next thing I’m likely to finish, in my book of the month project, is an illustrated book about the 15 different species of bats in Washington. The plan is to have the book look like a silhouette of a bat in flight. I found a machine that’s like a laser cutter for paper at a garage sale, and so I’m hoping to use that to cut the shapes. The book is kind of an excuse to use the new toy.

How did you connect with PSBA?

When I lived in Seattle, I used to walk to the Ravenna Bookstore, and I passed a house with a PSBA poster taped to their garage. I said, “I’m going to join that,” and then last year I finally did it. It’s such an awesome group. As we talked about earlier, you don’t see much of this art form, and then there’s this group that exists just for book arts. The books are mind-blowing, and it’s such a privilege to meet the artists and see their work. We’re so lucky to have it.

So much of book arts is about form, and it’s so valuable to be able to see what others have done, especially in person. Everyone at PSBA is so open, so interested in everyone else’s work. It’s such an amazing resource and point of inspiration. BTW, I was excited to see PSBA at the Seattle Arts Book Fair—I hope they recruited a bunch of people.

Can you describe what your work space is like and how you work?

This is funny. I have a small desk in a long, skinny room that used to be a deck and is now a glass-enclosed space. I can sit at my desk and touch the opposite walls. The desk was built by my dad and myself out of an old Boeing shipping crate.

I don’t need a lot of space because I do a lot of my work on the computer during the research, organizing, and editing phases. So much of the creative process is editing. This comes out of my graphic design background. Throw out ideas, build some thumbnails, pick a few, sketch in some more, develop them, and then pick what you like.

And when it’s time to get messy and build things, then I go down to my dad’s shop.

What adjective describes you?

Curious!!!

Who are the teachers or mentors who inspired you?

My parents, Jim and Liz Moore, who helped me play however I wanted and to push myself into trying different things.

The Maker Movement for opening the idea of what something can be. Everyone is a maker. I label myself more often as a maker rather than an artist. Art comes with a lot of baggage, but everyone makes stuff.

The incredible illustrator Aaron Gorky. With his fine line work, he is who originally led me to graphic design. I like artists who have structure to their work.

And finally, who would you invite to your most creative dinner party?

I picked a theme for the party. I’ve been interested in how people think, and we don’t usually have an opportunity to verbalize that.

So, here are the partygoers: M.C. Escher (graphic artist), Simone Getz (inventor and product designer), Wes Anderson (filmmaker), Tilly Walden (graphic novelist), and Phil Tippet (stop motion designer).

Anna, thank you. Our conversation feels a bit like space travel with some souvenirs to take home.

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How did you begin as an artist?

I have identified as an artist since I was really young. In fact, my earliest identification was as an artist. I was actually not a good student—I’m an abstract thinker, a visual learner, and also hands-on. When I think of those school years, I think I was distracted and not able to focus. And that was the way it was until I went back to school at Tacoma Community College at age 25, but I wasn’t studying art. I knew I was an artist, but I didn’t feel I had a clear path for what my art would look like as a career.

I just went back to school to figure things out. I did really well there, and I surprised myself. It shifted my idea of what my art could be. I had been doing odd jobs for a few years, but that wasn’t really sustainable. I had become sure of my path—everything I had done helped form me as an artist. When Covid happened, I quit what I was doing to become a full-time artist. It’s been both scary and a privilege. I’ve learned how to save and be resourceful so that I can do my art.

I’ve done many odd jobs, so I know how to do a lot of things, and I’ve made connections with folks—I know how to be in community, and because of that, I feel supported.

Can you say something about that support?

Yeah, I don’t work in one medium, and I think that may be why I’m able to be successful. I do jewelry, paint, digital graphics, and I’m a book artist. Those skills have opened me up to different communities. Those who are interested in one or more of those media find something in my work they can buy. Someone may not be able to afford an artist book, but they will buy a Zine. And it’s reciprocal—I also show up for them. It could be studio tours, birthdays, or markets. My communities support me and I them because I try to be reliable and impeccable with my word. I don’t ask more than what someone can give. I’ve found it’s crucial to have other people know who you are.

I try to say yes when someone asks something of me—it’s what I do to support the community who in turn supports me. When I go outside my comfort zone, it opens me up, and the community and I benefit. This is a good thing for artists to do because we are—well, vessels of the times, we’re recorders of the times.

Book Arts—how did you discover book arts?

Oh, my gosh—it found me. It was like a lot of my big, out-of-my-lane mediums that found me. Public Art was one of those. People saw it in me, and like I said, “say yes” to things that are challenging, even scary, and see what happens.

I did volunteer work with the Puyallup Language Department, and I learned Twulshootseed. Jane Carlin reached out to the Director, wanting someone to join a presentation. I agreed, but didn’t really know what it was. I met Jane and Jessica Spring. I was part of a panel that presented our art practice incorporating language. At that time, Jessica had the character type face for Twulshootseed. Jessica wanted to create something in the language, and I was there to talk about art in my daily practice.

Did you have a mentor in book arts?

You know how Jane is; she sees things in people that they may not even see in themselves, and she’s so supportive. You can tell she’s a strong advocate for the arts—she’s a super-hero. She brings this genre of art to public spaces. That is important for us and gives us visibility. And it’s been important for me personally because she’s facilitated these relationships and brought me in.

Jane asked me to make a book for an exhibit called Changing the Conversation. I had never made a book before. By then, I knew Jessica Spring and said, “Help—here’s my idea,” I want to use the language, changing the conversation from English to Twulshootseed. She showed me how to make an accordion book structure with a fold where I could put things in the fold. She also let me use her letterpress to make the cover. The book is now in the Collins collection.

Jessica introduced me to Gabby Cooksey, who showed me how to cover a book and how to do an inlay. They were amazing and giving. And then I did Arts at the Armory and met Lucia, who just picked me up and made me a part of PSBA.

Catherine Alice Michealis

Can you talk a little bit about your decision to go to China and its connection to your artistic journey?

I always wanted to be a writer, but when I was in high school, I also wanted to be a botanical illustrator. I went to the University of Oregon to study art and creative writing, but I didn’t know how to become a botanical illustrator. I didn’t know how to get help to figure this out. I didn’t have money to continue my studies, so I moved to Seattle and did all sorts of jobs—mostly baking and cooking.

When I was 23 years old, I decided to go to China. I knew nothing about it—in fact, I had never been out of this country. But I had a strong feeling, or intuition. I was driven. I worked two jobs, and I lived on $400/month. I started learning about China, got a giant map, and started plotting where I wanted to go. The trip was going to be a pilgrimage to Kuan-yin—visiting all her sacred places. I also wanted to see the Temple of Heaven, where the heavenly world and the earthly world met.

Why Kuan-yin?

There are not many female deities with the power and following of Kuan-yin. As a feminist and a lesbian, I had to know more. When I talked to Chinese refugees in Seattle, I heard their stories of how Kuan-yin saved them. It called to me in some way. Kuan-yin hears the prayers of the world, and I wanted someone to hear mine.

Did the trip turn out the way you planned?

It did and so much more. My friend Connie joined me; we traveled by train and boat, and went on to Tibet, Nepal, and Japan. We traveled both inside and outside the big cities. This trip changed my life.

I returned to Seattle, but a year later I went back to Japan to live and travel with a woman I met at the Dyke Dinner in Tokyo—but that’s a whole other story. Our travels took us through many low-key Asian countries, and I found that resonated with me. After a few years, when I returned to the States, I moved to Vashon Island because it had that same low-key flavor. I stayed on Vashon for 19 years.

How did that trip affect your artwork?

I wasn’t making artwork when I went—it’s surprising to me now. Right before I left for China, I saw a framed piece of Japanese Chiyogami paper, and I was stunned. It was so beautiful, I immediately connected with it. Then, when I was in Japan, I bought a bunch of paper.

When I returned, I learned how to do letterpress printing, but didn’t think I could acquire my own studio. It was several years later, when someone had a press to sell, and someone else offered to share their studio space, that it all started to come together.

How did you discover book arts?

I was introduced through an acquaintance. She told me that Laughing Dog Press on Vashon Island (where I lived at the time) needed volunteers. All of it sounded interesting to me, so I showed up. I loved it from the first minute and made friends for life.

Tell us about one of your favorite books.

There are so many! The favorite book that comes to mind right now is Trial by Fire. It was inspired by the inattention that happens during perimenopause. Maybe some of the readers can relate. The hot pads printed with the red coils of an electric burner are embroidered with mind/body experiences women face now, as they did centuries ago, when such symptoms could lead to being burned as a witch.

Trial By Fire

Jane Carlin

Q: You have so many interests and passions related to books, but I wanted to ask particularly how you came to book arts?

I really can’t remember a time when “book arts” were not on my radar, so to speak. I suppose the interest was really formulated years ago (decades now) as an undergraduate studying art history and anthropology. I was keenly aware of how image and text were combined in art monographs to tell stories. I also worked as a museum intern at the Delaware Art Museum on an exhibition of posters, chapbooks, and magazines of artists/illustrators such as Will H. Bradley and Edward Penfield. I still remember spending hours reviewing publications like Harper’s Bazaar as well as a number of little magazines such as The Philistine, a publication influenced by the work of William Morris. There were other publications of the period, such as printers' and booksellers’ journals. I really think of these types of publications as precursors of contemporary artists’ books. These publications had a great influence on my future scholarship.

Q: Speaking of scholarship, would you tell us about a mentor from your postgraduate days? Also, a little bit about what it was like.

I was lucky to receive a postgraduate fellowship offered by Blackwell’s, the premier academic bookseller and publisher in Oxford, to research the history of art book publishing tenable at the College of Librarianship in Wales. I had a tutor named Dorothy Harrop, whom I still remain in touch with to this day. She is an expert on book history, private presses, and fine binding; she guided my research so well.

I had the opportunity to stay in Oxford, in a manor home that Blackwell’s maintained for overseas visitors. When I think back, I can hardly believe my good fortune. The home was called Dry Leys, and it was in the countryside just outside Oxford. At the time, libraries across the globe were expanding, and there were always librarians visiting Blackwell’s from all parts of the world staying there.

Q: Name the artists who have influenced you and what motivates you in your creative life.

William Morris for sure; I was President of the William Morris Society in the US. I love the connection between art and nature; I love the philosophy of the Arts and Crafts movement, and the phrase “useful and beautiful.” Japanese color woodblock prints are a favorite of mine as well as many women illustrators from the early 20th century, particularly Jesse Wilcox Smith and Elizabeth Shippen Green.

Q: What do you love about PSBA?

I love how it has brought people together. There are so many connections amongst members as a result of this organization. How these connections have fostered deep friendships, exhibitions, and collaborations is simply astounding! When I think of all the wonderful people I have met and worked with, it’s truly fulfilling and really marvelous!

Q: Tell us the story of a book that has special meaning for you.

That’s a tough question, as there are so many. As an undergraduate, I was very engaged with book history and book design. As a graduate student at Indiana University, I worked at the Lilly Rare Book Library, and I suppose “constant” exposure to unique, rare books of all sorts stuck with me. My first professional position was at an Art and Design School as a Visual Resources Librarian. That work focused on creating images, but it also heightened my awareness of production methods and color. I would say that my research as a postgraduate student in the UK had a profound influence on my future with books. My research was on the evolution of the illustrated art book; I spent hours at the Victoria and Albert Museum’s Art Library poring over early illustrated books. I also interviewed early book art publishers and historians. This early work led to an interest in how artists’ books evolved.

Jane’s new “studio” in the attic of the Bloedel residence

Q: Describe your perfect day.

Truth to be told, it is sometimes great to have a day with absolutely nothing on my calendar. Given that, I would probably go for a walk, cook, visit a museum, drink some wine, and of course, read! Pretty basic stuff—oh, and throw seeking sea glass in the mix.

Q: Since you’re a librarian, I have to ask what kinds of books have you had in your personal collection?

Robert, my husband, and I collect modern first editions of detective fiction, British humor, books, and ephemera on London. And he collects golf mysteries! Yes, there is such a thing! I have collected early illustrated art books as well, but over the years have donated many of these to libraries.

When our children were young, we amassed a great collection of children’s books. We stood in line at book conferences, sometimes for hours, to have them autographed.

Before children, when we lived in Oxford, we had a mustard colored Mini Cooper. Along with two great friends from Blackwell’s, we would all pile into this tiny little car and spend the weekends scouring British bookshops. At that time, Robert was desperately seeking all the first editions of the famed British horseman turned mystery writer, Dick Francis. I can still remember finding a first edition of Dead Cert, one of his first books, with a fine dust jacket in a little bookshop in Stow-on-the-Wold. All collectors know that thrill of discovering something out of the blue.

Q: Do you collect anything other than books?

Over the years, I have collected antique bottles, sea glass, and I love mudlarking on the Thames River in London, where you can discover pottery shards, glass, and pieces of clay pipes. I have never found a Roman coin or a gold ring, but I love the serendipity of finding small pieces of history.

As a shoutout to the artists who make broadsides, I’ve collected them and papered the wall of my laundry room with them. I brought these today because we’ve had a laundry room flood, and I needed to rescue them. These are some that represent keepsakes or broadsides I was given at an event, or of a memento from a birthday, or just things I’ve picked up over the years.

Q: Name your favorite book or tell us your early memories of books?

Not a chance I can name one favorite. I grew up in a household of readers. When I was young, I loved reading books about girls—yes, I admit to anxiously awaiting the next Nancy Drew book. I was enchanted by the illustrations of Lois Lenski in the Betsy, Tacy, and Tib books. I do tend to have a stack of books by my bed at all times. A book I have read and re-read is Jane Eyre. It has so many great plot lines about friendship, endurance, love, and self-worth.

Q: If you could invite five people (dead or alive) to dinner, who would they be?

I know I should have a witty answer about inviting scientists, literary giants, and world leaders. But, I would probably invite a contemporary political figure (gasp) who has beliefs that differ from my own. Like a good anthropologist, I would try to understand that culture! Others might include: Julia Child—I love her life story and her Mastering the Art of French Cooking; Fran Lebowitz for her humor; The William Morris family—including Jane, his wife, and May, his daughter; and then one of the many iconic rock musicians I love—think the Stones or the Kinks.

I would love to meet each and every one of the Dead Feminists profiled in the series by Jessica Spring and Chandler O’Leary. I’m also intrigued with the idea of meeting Abby Williams Hill, whose collection is at the Collins Library, or Fay Fuller, whom I never even knew about until I was lucky enough to win a Wayzgoose Steamroller Print of hers. She was the first woman to summit Mr. Rainier in 1890.

I might have to have more than one dinner party.

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Pat Chupa

Q: I understand you have been a bookseller, a teacher, and a librarian—all related fields. When did you make the leap to being a book artist? 

I started making books when I was six or seven. I’d cut out images from magazines or from Sears’ catalogs and paste them onto construction paper and make little books. So, I think book arts was just gonna happen for me. As an adult, I came back to it after taking a community college class when I was living in Eugene back in the 1980s. This is where I learned how to marble paper and bind a book. It was so wonderful and I said: “oh, my gosh, I need to be doing this.” For a long time, I was working in isolation, as there wasn’t a book arts community in Eugene back then.

It wasn’t until I moved to Olympia that I started to create book art in a more focused way. After working for Barnes and Noble, I began working for the Timberland Regional Library. When I first connected with Elspeth Pope and a small group of people who were doing letterpress and book art projects at Elspeth’s home, that’s what brought me into the sphere of what was happening locally. Elspeth would invite artists to stay with her and teach. I was learning a lot. Out of that experience, a small group formed with MalPina Chan, Lucia Harrison, Gudren Aurand, and Randi Parkhurst. We’d meet periodically at Lucia’s to show our work and process. That was really helpful because we were getting and giving feedback, positive encouragement, and mutual support. 

Q: This sounds a lot like what’s been going on with PSBA. What was the connection?

I think Lucia and MalPina bridged the geographic space, making the art connection between Olympia and Tacoma. And shortly after this, Jane Carlin and Rochelle Monner put out the call to see who was interested in forming a more formal organization dedicated to book arts. Randi and I traveled to that first meeting of a large group of people at Collins Library, who were interested in making book art in community. Go Jane! She is a mover and a shaker. It was so…so satisfying to see that creative spark explode for so many people who wanted to participate and be part of the group. The synergy was fantastic. 

The thing that I vocalized at the meeting was how to pull in people from this end of the Sound, who are more isolated. I said hopefully we would eventually be able to offer workshops and meetings down here, and I was willing to make that happen. Later, Elizabeth Walsh and I hosted get-togethers and workshops at her house, so it was happening. That was how it all unfolded for me.

Q: Now that you’ve been part of PSBA since its beginning, what are your thoughts about it?

I’ve been involved in many groups over the years. And we probably all know groups can be difficult, and they are not always successful. There’s got to be a “hive-mind” that works. This group has been the most amazing organization with which I have had the privilege of being associated. It has been fantastic. I think that is in large part due to the fact that the book artists who came to be part of PSBA have a lot of experience in their personal and professional lives—they know how to “do it,” and they have generously brought that expertise to the organization. I hope this will continue to be true and that the next generation will recognize and encourage that quality in how they associate with one another. That’s the secret sauce. 

I think the love of the craft and the true friendship that we have with one another feeds and nurtures us. And this is hard to find; we need to hang on to it. 

Q: What kind of books were you working on then?

I started out with traditional codex-style books because I wanted to master that form; I wanted to learn the basics of book binding. I felt my strength was my Virgo liking things to be well done and my need to feel I was competent at it. That was a real focus for me to begin with. I didn’t get into making more imaginative pieces until I allowed myself to think I actually was more creative than I gave myself credit. Finally, I was able to unshackle my inhibitions, and that led to creations that came out of my mind. I didn’t really understand that they would be impactful to other people. I was developing a style of my work that is recognizably me.

Q: What book would you like to share with us as part of this interview?

This was my first commission. Mary Laird, a wonderful book arts teacher, recommended me to a client of hers, who wanted a specialty binding done of a folio manuscript. I wasn’t that long into the craft to expect something like this. Big decision, should I go for it? It took two years, and the client was okay with that. 

The title is Of A Feather. It is a unique quarter binding of black goat skin leather over rosewood boards, featuring a wood-burnt engraving of a feather. The text and engravings are by Colin See-Paynton, with an introduction by Sir David Attenborough. It is housed in a bespoke archival box. You can find more about this book on his website. With all my work, I try to create an immersive experience, engaging multiple senses.

Q: Here comes the dinner party question. If you could invite five or so people to dinner—people from across time and space—who would they be?

I thought this might be hard, but the names came quickly: Sappho, Georgia O’Keeffe, Maria Popova (who writes and edits Marginalian—highly recommend reading her blog), Gertrude Stein, May Sarton* (poet), Emily Dickinson, and lastly Melissa Hardie-Budden, MBE (she founded the Hypatia Trust in Cornwall). I did know Melissa, but not as long or as deeply as I would have liked. She was one of those seminal people who helped me. I also did a commission for her, and I presented and donated a personal Cornish ancestry homage piece of my work to the Trust.

But, you’re really making this a small party. I’d like to think of a Judy Chicago table with lots of artists.

Q: Do you collect anything other than books?

Oh, yes, I do, I do! Netsuke for one (showing one example). I collect see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil monkeys. I have a lot of bears (my totem animal), and they all have names. I collect Chinese and Japanese chops. I have statues of Guanyin, the Bodhisattva of compassion, in every room. I collect rocks and stones—you’ve got to have pocket rocks. I have a lot of art and craft works, many original—some mine, but mostly other people’s. I need all this in my environment.

When I have coffee with a group of friends—“Da Goils"—at my house, they have said: “I like coming to your house, it’s like going to a museum.” There are lots of things to look at here; I’m like a magpie. Every single one of these things has memories for me. And because I’ve had an interest in world history, philosophy, and literature all my life, these things are around me because they remind me how rich and wonderful life is. 

Q: Can you name your favorite book? This is a hard one.

[long pause] Yes, this is really hard. The book I’ve read and reread the most is The Lord of the Rings by Tolkien, but having said that…there are so many. I can’t say I have one favorite. What I’m trying to do in my life now is to pare down my library to the books that have meant the most to me in my life. My task is to get it down to two bookcases—I’m not there yet, but I’ve gotten it down to four!

My whole eye issue really settled it for me. For a long time, I felt if I didn’t have my library around me, people wouldn’t know who I was. If they could see my library, they would see who I was, by what I had read. I had to keep them all, just in case. Now, since it’s hard for me to read, I’ve been sending books to the local libraries. And I have my little free library in front of my house, built as a memorial to librarians I’ve known and loved.

Q: What words best describe you?

Curious Old Soul.

*Famous line from May Sarton’s poetry: “We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.”

Q: Can you talk about your path as an artist?

Well, I knew I was an artist once I could pick up a crayon. My mom was really happy because she’s an artist too. She invented drawing games for me; she’d draw a squiggle and say, “What does that look like?” And I’d say, “A worm,” and she replied, “Well, make it into a worm.” She trusted that I saw what I needed to see to do that. That was a really good lesson. 

I grew up in Seattle. And I excelled in school with art—anything that had to do with drawing—from geometrics and math to maps and social studies. I’m not a big reader; I don’t retain information that way. But if you give me a project where I can use my hands, I can learn quickly. By the time I was in high school, I identified as an artist. I spent all my extra time in the art studio. I didn’t go to art school; I’m self-taught. 

Art has always been there for me. With any traumas I faced, art healed me. It’s my happy place, and it’s something that’s mine, something I believe in. I didn’t start showing my work until I was in my 30s or 40s. My husband and I moved to the Olympia area in 1991. There was a restaurant downtown called “Plenty.” Someone asked if I wanted to show my paintings for Arts Walk. I had really good luck; I sold three or four paintings. After that, I thought, “Maybe I could keep doing this,” and I started doing art shows, studio tours, and exhibits at a friend’s gallery.

Q: How did you meet book arts?

I was an artisan at the Olympias’ Farmers’ Market for 12 years. While I was there, I met Jo Jenner, a local collage artist who also did book arts. It was brand new to me. I had never heard of it. She broke open that crack for me, and I could see what was in there. I knew this was for me. From then on, I dedicated the next twenty-plus years of my life to inventing book structures, learning all the different bindings, and learning how to put a box together.

Also, I sorta became part of Elspeth Pope’s group of artists interested in letterpress and books. I was a volunteer at Evergreen State College’s Rare Book Collection when Elspeth was in charge of how to take care of the books. That was really educational; I got to see and hold all of those rare books.

Q: Do you remember your first book?

I took a class from Dolph Smith, and he taught me this binding, which, to this day, is my favorite binding. It’s a long stitch over tapes. It’s a beautiful structure which lays flat, and he taught us how to hide the end of the tape; it’s very strong, and you can twist it. You can do it with multiple tapes to make it any size you want. This is the first proper structure I learned.

Right after the class, I got this idea. What if I make a book and it slides into a box, and that box is part of a bigger book that slides into a box?

Q:  Who inspired and influenced your early work? And later work?

Dolph Smith for sure. Dan Essig—he made my favorite piece so far. He made a barracuda-like fish, carved out of wood; it had a satin black-brown finish. Then he placed all these little books he had made in an Ethiopian-style binding and put them on chains. He hung them from this big fish who was dragging the books behind him. Dan and Dolph both make interactive pieces, and that certainly influenced me. 

I’ve been taking classes from Kathy Gore-Fuss (whose studio is across the garden path). We’re working on collage and notan, a Japanese art form.

Q: How did you find other artists who shared your new interest in book arts?

Pat Chupa and I would get together and make things or put projects together. I also work with Bonnie Julien before I teach a structure. She helps me to figure out how long a class will take, and we work out any problems beforehand. But, normally, I don’t have a buddy I do book arts with. I work alone. When Jane Carlin sent out the notice, seeing who was interested in book arts, that turned out to be a gift. I loved being able to connect with other people doing this kind of work.

I was one of the founding members of PSBA. You know, Jane Carlin is just a saint. She’s so supportive. She’s not an artist herself, but she loves artists. Her presence was just what we needed. We needed a big place where we could all meet. It was pre-pandemic, so we were able to meet in person. That was how I began working with other book artists.

Now that PSBA is so well established, I would love to see the organization have a permanent place where they could teach, have meetings, and host ongoing exhibits, etc. That’s the only piece that might be missing.  Everything else is moving along with great success. 100% grade on outreach and programs!

Q: We have to talk about Tansu Gothic. What do you do after something like that?

Tansu Gothic (below) is a red castle complete with tall spires, working drawers and doors, over 300 pieces of hardware, and a miniature surprise hidden inside, telling the tale of a fire in Japan in 1657. Like all of her work, it is made with her own hand-painted, printed, and dyed papers.

Q: Now that we know your real day, how about a pretend day.  You’re hosting a dinner party—your guests can be from anywhere across time and space, who would you invite?

Louie Jordan I loved his old-time jazz music. Joan of Arc, a very heroic story, Sacagawea, Maya Angelou, Tom Sawyer, and Pippi Longstocking. I think what the guests all have in common is the bravery to live their own story.

Q:  Do you have favorite movies you want to share?

That’s a hard one. I like spy movies. Inception might be a good example. There was a guy who wrote a review of my work for This is Colossus, an online magazine, and he equated my work with Inception. And he’s right, it’s a puzzle.

Q: How would someone describe you?

As a good friend. That’s what I’d want to be known for—being a good person and a good friend.  I’d say I’m open, creative, and compassionate.

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Q: Tell us your path as an artist.

Well, that’s an interesting question. I come from a family of “makers.” Everyone was always making something. I can remember my mother and grandmother sewing, my dad restoring classic cars and later building the family home, and my grandfather doing fine woodworking in his shop. This energy was around me as an inspiration, as were basic art supplies as tools.  

I knew I liked art, especially when I got into high school. I thought I knew what it meant to be an artist and thought I’d take that route. Although my family encouraged me, they didn’t know how that fit into making a living. The compromise was for me to get a practical degree and to find a way to continue to do creative work. And at that point, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do, so I took the practical road, which ended up leading me into the book arts.  

Q: How did you meet book arts?  

While I was a business major at PLU (Pacific Lutheran University), I was a work-study student assigned to Professor Megan Benton, who was the director of PLU’s Publishing and Printing Arts Program. That’s how the door to book arts opened for me. I had taken some printing classes at the Community  College, and I was really interested. The PLU program had all the equipment, and Megan had a background in bookbinding. Wow, this was so great. I was checking off the boxes for my business degree, but my heart was in the Publishing and Printing Arts Program, which became my minor.  

Between my PLU experience and the formation of PSBA, I dabbled in the book arts and other creative outlets. Our children were young then, and creative time was limited. But later, with the formation of  PSBA and meeting like-minded people, I did much more. As PSBA grew, my depth in working in book arts grew.  

Q: Now seems the time to ask you how you discovered PSBA?  

In the early 2000s, after I graduated, I remained in touch with Megan Benton, and I knew she was planning on retiring. In this same period, I was also a soccer mom. Darnell and I met another couple at a game—parents watching their sons kick a ball. We found common ground with both our husbands working for the same company. The wife was an experienced letterpress printer and book artist. I told her about the soon-to-be-announced opening at PLU. The other soccer mom was Jessica Spring.  

Jessica and I stayed in touch. She was the one who told me about the meeting Jane Carlin called to see what interest there was in forming a book arts group. I knew this was for me. I joined. Lucia recruited me to do the second exhibition with MalPina Chan, who taught me what it means to be a curator. The next step was becoming a board member.  

Q: How does a business major start to see herself as an artist?  

I’ve thought about this one a lot, and it has been a point of tension for me. Where is the line where you are suddenly an artist—especially if you didn’t go down that road through your education? I’ve seen other people struggle with this question. It was MalPina who pushed me down this road. She encouraged me to apply to EDGE Professional Development Program. She had gone through it, as have some others in PSBA. EDGE put together cohorts of artists, not to teach them their craft, but how to see yourself as an artist in a contemporary world—emphasizing the business side. MalPina, who was  always my cheerleader, my encourager, said, “Deb, I really think you should go through this program.”  Self-doubt hit, but she said, “Just fill out the application.”  

After a lot of internal turmoil, I did apply and got accepted on the first round. What was most important about the EDGE program was being around other artists, all working toward the same goal. A couple  of steps that were really critical for me:  

1. Putting together a portfolio, which meant I was taking myself seriously.  

2. Creating a website, being willing to show my work.  

At the same time, I applied for a public arts call through the city of Tacoma. I have worked in public art,  which is the traffic box wrap, and I went through the EDGE program. With these two experiences, I felt the external world was now affirming me as an artist. Of course, self-doubt still creeps in.  

Q: It sounds like you have had some wonderful mentors.  

Absolutely! Lucia Harrison for sure. MalPina and I have done PSBA exhibitions together, and in 2019, we also curated an exhibition at the Columbia City Gallery in Seattle. MalPina pulled me in on a lot of things. Her death is a hard one for our whole family.  

Another mentor was not an individual but an “affinity group.” PSBA sponsored a Progoff-style workshop led by Marilyn Frasca. The workshop was called “Seeing What’s There.” Afterwards, Lucia did what Lucia always does: she asked who was interested in getting together and continuing the work. A handful of us did: Pat Chupa, Jan Ward, Catherine Alice Michaelis, Deborah Greenwood, An Gates, Lucia, and me. We met for years afterwards—usually around this dining room table. You get to know people through this kind of an affinity group.  

PSBA has been so integrated into my life. When Darnell was building the studio, he showed MalPina the sketch. Her first response was “Where’s the sink?” As a result, the studio has a sink. The studio has windows at the top because of Jan Ward, who said, “Eh, you need some cross ventilation in there” in her Jan Ward voice. There was a tremendous amount of support. They were all mentors, even to this day. They watched me grow up over the last 15 years.  

Q: Maybe this is the time to comment on you and Darnell’s family lineage, which seems to act as a container inspiring your art.  

My husband, Darnell (Lummi Nation/Soowahlie First Nation), is a storyteller and comes from a line of storytellers. His family welcomed me, and their stories have influenced my work. Just as my family, who were “makers,” did. I realized my work is about who I am and what I’ve experienced. I know my work is influenced by my family history and Darnell’s. The work I’m proudest of comes from a Progoff exercise  of “going deep in the well.” I want to share this book as an example.  

29 Nations 

University of Washington Libraries, Special Collections, NA729. 

It comes from a photograph, Darnell and I found when we were researching something for a large family gathering. It’s from Washington State’s digital archives.  

This photograph has maintained its emotional pull. I love the way the man is standing, and the way the woman seems to be responding to him. I can tell myself different stories about who they are and what they’re doing or experiencing. The photo hung on my bulletin board for years.  

I was so intimidated/inspired by the way the photo made me feel, I knew what I did with it had to be right. Then all of a sudden I knew. I hadn’t seen a structure like this before, but one day I just knew how to do it. The cover was made to look like a family heirloom woven basket made by Darnell’s great-grandmother. Keenly aware of misappropriation, I wanted to be clear that this representation is through my voice honoring her.  

The Abby Williams Hill book was another way I found my voice through telling her story. I know there will be more pieces that will come in this way. Through this process, I’ve learned that to know me is to know me through my work. I’m a storyteller through my work. I see my earlier work as “tight” or recognizable. Now I feel I’m going deeper, and it’s less recognizable or representational and more emotional. I’m also including texture. I’m integrating my mother’s needlework now into my work, from childhood cross-stitched tea towels to book arts. I’m coloring outside the lines.  

Q: Can you describe your studio?  

I went from basically having a table in the house for years. Darnell said he was ready to build a studio for me. In his true style, he had figured out the footprint. He had watched how I work and laid out a plan based on that. He designed it, and he and a friend built it; four of us raised the walls like an old barn raising. There were space constraints, but he added more space by building up. He included a classic rolling library ladder. The wood trim at the top of the ladder, where the bar sits, is wood that my dad milled and prepared. He worked on it in his home in the Midwest and mailed it to us. So both my husband and my father built this studio.  

Q: We’re wrapping up now, so it’s time for the dinner party question—who would you invite to a dinner party, anyone from across time and space?  

The people I would have at the table would be the family that directly or indirectly influenced me and my work. Some of these guests I never met, but I have experienced what they taught their children and grandchildren, and through them, to me. So, here’s my list: my grandfather and his mother (who was so important to him), Darnell’s grandmother, and her grandmother. And of course, Darnell. They have all influenced me, and their stories live on through my work.  

Q: How would someone describe you?  

I would hope I’d be described as a good friend, kind, and creative. I also know I’m focused and persistent—I don’t give up.  

Q: Any closing thoughts on PSBA?  

I was thinking how my “15” exhibit book symbolizes what PSBA has been for me. My book reflects on my work—past, present, and future. The present is entitled “Attention” and it reminds me that I did not arrive here alone, but through the support, encouragement, and generosity of others. PSBA is more than the art experience. PSBA is also the people we experience life with. We’re a welcoming community and offer a lot.

You’ll find more of Debbi’s work at her website: debbicommodore.com

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Q: Tell us about your path as an artist.

My mother, my first teacher, gave me the encouragement and space to be creative and to follow my muse, which I translated into being outside in nature. There I was, with grass stains on my knees, twigs and leaves in my hair, and posies in my pocket. [You’ll find this girl in Jan’s 2024 and 2025 exhibit entries.]

By the time I was in high school, I knew I was in love with art. I was drawn to sculptural work—something solid and tangible. For example, I was one of the first girls to take wood shop. 

However, practical decisions had to be made for college. I chose Chamberlayne Junior College in Boston for interior design, where I could combine art with earning a livelihood. On the first week of school, I announced to all my dorm mates it was my intention to get an education. That same week, I met Chuck. My dorm mother announced, “There’s a male visitor for Miss Jan.” All the girls were leaning over the banister to see who. I was the one who had the first date of the year. Even though I transferred to Massachusetts College of Art for another year of “education”, karma led me down a whole other path. 

After Chuck graduated from MIT, we moved to UC Davis, in California, for his graduate work. For me, the school had a beautiful craft center, and that’s where I learned more spinning, weaving, and dying—my new loves. As an aside, we also helped build our home, the first passive solar house in Northern California.  

Five years later, we moved to an unincorporated area in Washington to live the dream. We bought a farm, raised a variety of animals, and later had two boys. I joined the Arachne Weavers Guild and Moonspinners Guild. In a year or two, I was superintendent of the Sheep to Shawl exhibit at the Western Washington State Fair.I also did some production weaving (50-yard rolls) for a local fiber artist. Picture me nursing our new baby while moving the shuttle back and forth. Not surprising I got a JOB, a real job, a paying job.

By the mid-80s, I became “that lady” in wooden shoes who created displays and gave grade-level visits to students in the Puyallup School District’s Karshner Museum. My next stop was the Science Resource Center, where my partner and I managed the science kit program for 23 elementary schools.

Q: How did you meet book arts? Or paper arts?

In 2008 or so, I made an online connection with Milliande from the UK. She had started a discussion group for artists. She’d give a prompt, and her followers would respond with work. Milliande was a fascinating person. She began as an illustrator and became a supporter of women’s growth in the arts. Her artist book was the first one I ever saw. Under her instruction, I made several basic book structures. She was intuitive and tried all sorts of things. She combined unusual materials and imagery together. One of her themes was womanhood. [Jan shows one of Milliande's pieces hanging on her wall.] This approach fascinated me—how women develop when working together.She opened a path to an alternate form of art for me. 

Q:  Now seems the time to ask you how you discovered PSBA?

My daughter-in-law, Kate, heard about the newly formed PSBA and bought me my first membership. It was a time when things were starting to happen in Tacoma because of the growing fame of the glassworks. People started to notice Tacoma is a good place for artists—it was the beginning of the beginning for all sorts of ART. PSBA was just one of them. I really took to the new group. I am not sure if I was at the very first meeting, but I was definitely there for the next ones, and play dates, and workshops, and whatever else PSBA offered.

Woman on the Water entry in the “All Stitched Up” Exhibit

Q: Who were your mentors or influencers:

Lucia Harrison, MalPina Chan, Deborah Greenwood, Debbi Commodore, An Gates, and Pat Chupa. We shared that milestone PSBA workshop event with Marilyn Frasca, who led us through a Progoff process. And because of the “wonderfulness” of this group, we made a connection (an affinity group) where we have met and worked together for years.

Lucia organized this workshop. One of the gifts of PSBA is the subgroup of artists who are connected to the art world. They know people and bring us all together. They have that spark that says let’s do this, let’s try this, let’s get together… We need the worker bees who make it happen, we need the idea people who say, “Let’s try this.” But, without the connections to the outside world, it doesn’t go forward.

These women are so important to me. And what sadness we feel with the loss of MalPina. She had the Seattle connection—she was in with them and had shown her work there for years. The mentors in this group were all confident people, and I benefited from that. I was elated that we were interested in some of the same things: nature, expressing the stories of our lives, and creating an individual artistic identity. Even the side trails of embroidery and cloth books and earth pigments are interests that have been important in my work. As an example, Lucia’s connection with science and art has provided additional opportunities. I can’t say enough good things about these strong and willing mentors from our past and the new ones that are showing up to help PSBA move forward.

Q:  Which of your books would you like to highlight?

In terms of my work, the book that gives me the most joy was my entry for “All Stitched Up,” a juried exhibit sponsored by the Collins Library in 2019. The word went out for a collaborative project that had to do with sewing. I asked the WOWers (long-standing rowing team of the Vérité, a 38-foot captain’s gig) to participate. I just smile now to think how this came about.  When I proposed the idea, the Rowers sat there pretty dubious, with eyebrows raised.I told them I’d give them each a piece of cloth and photos if needed. Just like in rowing, we helped each other. Instead of our 18-foot oars, we used tiny needles and thread to tell the story of the Vérité. Each square was unique and fitted the personality of the rower. The variety in that book was amazing.

Q: What do you want to work on in the near future?

I want to focus on communication: to create more meaningful text, stories, and emotions in my books. That might mean more work on writing stories. Or on the flip side, it might mean exploring non-traditional use of letters and letter forms to express emotions and feelings, such as asemic writing or Japanese characters. 

My next goal is to get back into printing. The print world is such an expansive place to explore. Seeing Debbi Commodore and Abbie Birmingham’s pieces have been inspiring. Now, to find a way to gain skills for translating that inspiration into my own themes. Speaking of themes, I’m sure this year’s theme of Wabi Sabi for the book exchange will add fuel to all my New Year’s goals.

Q:  Can you describe your studios? 

Crow’s Nest, my tiny home studio, built by Lincoln High School students, is now my home base. It is where I keep my notes and basic supplies and spend most of my art time. It is also the spot for Zoom get-togethers. Raven’s Lodge, the tinker toy shed Chuck and I built, is just a few steps away. It is my printing studio and the place where I work on larger (messier) projects. You ask, how is it possible that the house is still full of art materials and the camp shed too? 

Crow’s Nest

Q:  We’re wrapping up now, so it’s time for the dinner party question—who would you invite to a dinner party, anyone from across time and space?

I want a dinner date with my mom. I want to know more about her life stories. She lived to be 99 years old and had interesting experiences. In many ways, she and I had similar unexpected occurrences in our lives. She shared simple statements of truth, which I call “little pearls.” I would love to document these pearls and put them in a book for my family. 

Q: Do you have a motto?

Yep, it’s “be prepared.” What you may not know about me is that I was a Cub master for 82 boys. I held every position and was awarded the Silver Beaver Award—also earned a few grey hairs.

Q:  Any closing thoughts on PSBA?

PSBA keeps an open mind on the definition or criteria for a book. I appreciate that because this openness allows me to bring my developing—and some might say non-traditional—style to this form. 

I appreciate the abundant opportunities to learn new skills and be exposed to best practices. Participating in the smaller groups, where members share their work-in-progress, has been both supportive and inspiring. I also want to add my thanks to those members who have been willing and able to help PSBA thrive by either volunteering on one of the committees or by serving on the board. It’s wonderful to be amongst so many creative, talented, kindred spirits who are now friends.

Q: And finally, describe your perfect day.

It’s 72 degrees, sunny with a slight breeze. Birds are singing, and there are no surrounding sounds of power motors from the neighbors. I’m either on the water or in Crow’s Nest happily pursuing something tactile—making, creating, using all the resources at hand, while looking at life either in a new way or responding to my muse.

You’ll find more of Jan’s work at her blog: crowzenart.blogspot.com

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Lucia Harrison

Q: You have a long history in Olympia; it’s where you grew up and where you taught at Evergreen for 30 years. How did you come to Tacoma?

Well, about 20 years ago, when I was first dating Jim, he was looking for a house in Tacoma. While we were in the realtor’s office, I got the call that my house had burned down—the house and everything inside. So, I was homeless! Eventually Jim and I bought this house together. I guess that’s the only way I would have left Olympia. Now I feel I’m really embedded in the arts community here in Tacoma.

The fire was a turning point in my life.

Q: Tell us about your history as an artist. When did you begin making art?

When I was a kid growing up, I was a maker. I always made stuff—clothes, costumes for little neighbor plays and art projects. My idyllic childhood, roaming the forests and sound, came to an end when I was 13 and we moved for Davis, California. There I excelled in art in school and was able to take art extension classes at U.C. Davis. My grandmother was an artist—a “Sunday painter.” She loved painting the desert, the ocean, and gardens. She would travel to summer art camps and take me with her.

After high school and two years as an art major at WSU, I enrolled at Antioch, a small liberal arts school that worked for me. Antioch had a program in Columbia, Maryland, where the students were assigned the project of building the college. I was the editorial administrative assistant to the Arts Program, and that’s how I got into the arts management. Then I met Harry, and my life took another big change, and my parents disowned me.

Now I had to figure out how to make a living as well as be an artist. Harry and I married, and we moved back to the main campus at Yellow Springs, Ohio, where I could take classes in the business side of arts management. I was pretty good at it; I liked the neatness of accounting and having things in place. My degree was in Arts Administration.

We next moved to Madison, where Harry was in medical school. I had to get a job. In the early 70s, the University of Wisconsin was hiring computer programmers with no experience. I was trained by IBM to work on a team to convert the University’s manual systems into automated systems. I went to school at night, eventually earning my PhD in Higher Educational Administration.

We moved to San Diego for Harry’s internship and residency. Aisha was born there, and I taught Public Administration at San Diego State University. My dream was to move back to Olympia, and eventually I was hired by The Evergreen State College to teach public administration. During all this time I wasn’t doing any art. Harry thought art was for navel gazers—too privileged. 

Now in my 40s, I had my crisis: divorce, my mother’s death, and general questioning: What I’m doing with my life? I happened to be on a hiring committee where we were selecting artists. The big questions for me were: What happened to me? Where did the artist go? I then reinvented myself as an artist.

Q: How did you do that?

I started reading biographies of artists and artists’ journals. I joined an Arts for Women group, and I started taking classes in drawing, painting, and art history at various places. Even though I had taken those classes before, I re-tooled myself. In the summer, I went to Haystack and other camps as my grandmother did. I started making art again. I joined an artists cooperative, and had small exhibits in downtown Olympia.

At Evergreen, people started to notice. My first transition class was called The Search for Meaning—How Artists, Activists, Writers and Public Administrators Dealt with Issues in 20th Century America. My colleagues thought that with my background, I could help organize the Arts Program, which led to my teaching more art-related classes.

Q: With your new identity, what influenced you and what became your focus?

Habitat Changes: Moving back to Olympia after my years as a student, I noticed how the area’s changes led to the loss of native habitat. Cooper Point, which had been my home, was really different. 

Progoff: Evergreen had summer interdisciplinary institutes. One was on Progoff Intensive Journaling. My colleagues, Susan Aurand and Marilyn Frasca, introduced me to this method of finding the threads of my life through dialogues with people, my body, society, and my artwork.

Team Teaching with Scientists: Susan Aurand encouraged me to teach art in freshman courses with scientists. Steve Herman, an ornithologist, introduced me to Grinnell Field Journaling, and through this process I learned close observation, which fit nicely into my practice of drawing plants and birds. Eventually, native plant habitat loss and fragmentation became major themes in my work.

Indigenous Perspectives: At Evergreen, we were encouraged to bring indigenous perspectives into the curriculum. I began learning about the Indigenous history, place names, the importance of native plants, and got involved with projects like the Nisqually River Education Project. Cultural history along with natural history became important to me.

I now see my work as three practices: 

• Detailed artwork that takes a long time and is very precious—one-of-a-kind pieces. These can be about my life or the habitat.

• Free downloadable Artist Books that seduce people to learn more about the environment. 

• Community Service—creating opportunities for artists by curating exhibits.

Q:  How did you discover book arts and when did that become part of your work?

Throughout my life, I was making books. I wasn’t a good writer or reader as a child. So when I was assigned a paper, I would make a little book with drawings, which got me out of trying to write what I wanted to say. As an adult, I began my process with drawing and watercolor painting, but I found that artist books allowed me to convey a more complex idea than a single drawing, but I needed to hone my craft. 

Aisha introduced me to Penland School of Crafts in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. In the summers, I began taking workshops from master book artists like Julie Leonard, Daniel Essig, Jim Croft, and Steve Miller.

Q: Who would you identify as your mentors or artists who inspired you?

My Evergreen colleagues, Joe Feddersen and Susan Aurand, were my mentors at the time of my reinvention. They encouraged me to develop my artwork and taught me how to teach art. Joe would call me once or twice a week to ask what art projects I was working on.

Sandra Kroupa, the Special Collections Librarian at the University of Washington, was a big help to me. I’d bring what I was working on, and we’d talk about it. In those meetings she challenged me; she also gave me assignments. She was the one who introduced me to Cynthia. Cynthia Sears, wasn’t a personal mentor, but the way she has supported artists through her collection has helped me a lot.

Emily Carr was very important in my development. I read all her journals and then went on a month-long kayak expedition with two friends, and we kayaked to all the places she had visited on Haida Gwaii. My book documenting this experience was one of the many things that burned in the fire. She inspired me to bring art and nature together, to draw or paint in nature, drawing directly from nature. I always wanted to do what she did. And I did. 

Q:   We’ve learned some of your history as an artist, your discovery of book arts, and so now the next question is: how did you come to PSBA?

We had an artists group in Olympia with Randi Parkhurst, Pat Chupa, MalPina Chan, and myself. We were all starting out with artists’ books, and we would meet monthly at my house to talk about what we were doing. Randi heard about a small group in Tacoma that was meeting with Rochelle Monner. They invited me to a meeting, and then Rochelle said: “I want to be the first person to introduce you to Jane Carlin.”  Shortly thereafter, Jane put out a Call to people who were interested in artists' books. By then I had given a lot of talks on the subject, I made books, and was more familiar with the scholarship around artists' books. I went to the meeting. One of the first questions was “who wants to be on the board,” and I said: “I do,” and I became the treasurer.

Through PSBA, I met Deborah Greenwood in a PSBA paper-making workshop. We began working together and became great friends. We have built a paper-making studio, encourage each other’s art practice, team-taught, and curated exhibits. 

Q:  Can you describe your studio and some of your work? 

This is my hideout and my zoom room. [It’s a room filled to the brim with containers holding art supplies, fabric, papers; it’s an artist’s haven encompassing the whole lower floor of their home with one room dedicated just to archives.]  

I have an outdoor area where Deborah and I cook fiber and make botanical contact prints. At her house, we share the paper-making and printmaking studio.

Here is what Deborah Greenwood and I have made for the 15 Exhibit. Each of us made 15 cards of work we’ve done together. The images include both process and projects. You’ll see them at the exhibition.

Curious about how we lose a sense of place, I researched the indigenous place names along the South Salish Sea where I grew up. I kayaked to each place and created an illustrated atlas noting my observations about the place I learned from its Lushootseed place name. For example, Schneider Creek’s Lushootseed name means “plentiful salmon.”

Q: Next project or work in progress?

The four-panel tapestry [background of Lucia’s headshot] is made from handmade and painted paper. The theme shows the elements and native plants of a healthy forest garden. The other side will be a map of some development made out of paper that contains shredded money. This is a big project I’ve worked on since Covid.

Q: It’s time for the dinner party question—but I realize that doesn’t always work. How ‘bout who, from across time and space, would you want to walk and talk with?

Well, good, because I don’t like dinner parties. I thought a lot about who I would like to talk to and learn from. Someone who influenced me a lot was Robin Wall Kimmerer, who wrote Braiding Sweetgrass. She is an Indigenous woman who has a PhD in botany. She’s in the sciences and in the historic cultural tradition of her people.

Emily Carr had a tough personality—at a dinner she might be kinda rude. But on a walk…

David Douglas was from the 1830s, just when the Hudson Bay Company was starting. He collected plants and stories, and interviewed women. His stories would be amazing.

Q: Do you collect anything besides books?

I collect plants. My garden in Olympia had only native plants. When I moved here, I had to recreate the forest. There are plants I inherited that aren’t native, but I didn’t want to get rid of them. I also collect memory plants from people who have passed away. I have plant memories of people, like my friend Linda who loved cosmos. I’m thinking about making a book about it.

Q: Do you have a motto?

Creative Habit, Common Habitat and Concern for Health

Q: And finally, describe your perfect day.

A perfect day is being alone in nature and feeling safe enough to sit and draw. I can even do that here in my yard.

You’ll find more of Lucia’s work at her website: luciaharrison.com

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