JD’A 16: BIRDS IN PARADISE (OR) LIFE IN A JAPANESE SCREEN –

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BIRDS IN PARADISE | [signature D’Ambrosio]  [#/50] | by D’Ambrosio 1984 || OR | [ornamental line] || [imbedded in ornamental frame] Life Upon | [multi-colored folding gold screen] | [imbedded in ornamental frame] A Japanese Screen

6-1/2 × 9-1/4 inches: Black cloth on inside board, endpaper black on recto, [1]: blank, [2–3]: title A, [4]: copyright, [5]: title B, [6–7]: title C, [8]: blank,[9]: text in tissue paper frame, [10]: blank, [11]: text in gold frame, [12–13]: brown text with images of trees, [14–15]: mountain in wood frame, [16]: blank, [17]: text with lotus image, [18]: image of woman [signed], [19]: text with marbled paper above and below, [20]: blank, [21]: text with image of flowers, [22]: image of Birdman, [23]: text with marbled paper above and below, [24-25]: text on folding paper, [26]: blank, [27]: text with marbled paper above and below, [28-29]: text on folding paper, [30]: blank, [31]: text with marbled paper above and below, [32]: blank, [33]: marbled paper [signed], [34]: blank, [35]: text with marbled paper above and below, [36]: blank, [37]: colophon A, [38]: blank, [39]: colophon B , [40]: blank, endpaper black on verso. Black cloth on inside board.

Colophon:

[37]: This edition has been printed on Mohawk Letterpress paper, in grateful thanks to its creator:

Wallace E. Dawes.

The following papers are also represented:

Japan Tea Chest

Gold & Silver

Japan Lace

Ingres Black

French Marble

[39]: This edition has been set in 18 pt. Centaur type and printed on a Vandercook no. 4 proof press at The Woman's Graphic Center, Los Angeles, Cal., by D' Ambrosio who also created the binding.

This is 

Copy no.

[#in pencil and underlined]

of 50 

numbered copies and 10 artist proofs.

Binding: Black and gold kid leather; glass over an 8-color serigraph; pages sewn to spine composed of bamboo rods; pivotal-hinged.

Dust Jacket of textured gray paper.

Black felt-lined box.

Optional acrylic box with black base.

From 19 Years and Counting:

BIRDS IN PARADISE (or) Life Upon A Japanese Screen

Edition: 50 numbered copies, and 10 artist proofs

Size: 6-1/2 × 9-1/4 inches

Type: 18 pt. Centaur

Leaves: 20 - Mohawk Letterpress paper

Binding: Black and gold kid leather;

glass over an 8-color serigraph; pages sewn to spine composed of bamboo rods; pivotal-hinged black felt-lined box

1884

After 15 years of work, this book is a culmination and embodies the knowledge that I acquired during those years. The story attempts to take the reader onto and into a work of art (a Japanese screen), and we (the reader and the writer together) meditate on the disciplines an artist must maintain to create the work using form, color, and composition, and relate that to the disciplines we must use as individuals in creating our own lives as a space in which we can cope and survive. 

I was still without a decent printing press, and I knew the Adana could not handle this project. The Woman's Graphic Center in Los Angeles rescued me by allowing me to use their Vandercook No. 4 proof press. I set a few pages of type in my workshop; gently laid the type in its trays on the seat in my aging car; cringed each time I hit a bump in the road on my trek to the Graphic Center which is not a short distance; printed, and then repeated the process which took many months.

The paper for this book was recommended to me by its designer, Wallace Dawes of The Paper Source in Los Angeles. It was then newly created specifically for letterpress printing, and its fiber content is such that printing is easily done without dampening the paper. My grateful thanks to Wally Dawes.

Every page of this book is a two-ply laminate which allows for the many decorative paper inlays that enhance the text. Most of the inlays are marbled papers of western origin which is ironic because the story is Oriental. I first tried Japanese paper inlays, but soon realized they would only be compatible with a text of Asian calligraphy, and readjusted the book's design accordingly.

The binding for Birds in Paradise was my most difficult task to date. I had planned to combine the sewing of the pages to bamboo rods on the spine with the same threads also holding the covers in place as in a stab binding manner. I was not pleased with the effect. I transferred an 8-color serigraph which was originally intended for the inside of the book to the front and back covers, and protected the delicate surface of the silkscreen ink with clear glass. The sewing was done horizontally to encircle the threads about the bamboo rods, and colored threads used to trace the sewing process for the viewer.

From A Memoir of Book Design:

After fifteen years, this book is a culmination of everything I learned and embodies the knowledge acquired during those years. I honestly believed that I had at this time exhausted the possibilities of expanding on the book as an art medium, and decided to encompass in this work all that I had learned-I thought this was the very last book that I would ever create. It is a constant surprise to me that I have been able to expand my experiments continually within the medium of the printed word, the visual image, and the structure that houses them.

The experience in this work attempts to take the reader onto and into a work of art (in this case a Japanese screen), and we (the reader and the writer together) meditate on the disciplines an artist must maintain to create a work of art using form, color, and composition, and compare that to the conduct we must use as individuals in creating our own lives as a space in which we can cope and survive. The difference is quite similar—for are we not all actors upon a stage when we are commingling with society? And aren't we coping with our own particular physical and mental inabilities when we are in private? We are human. In our relations with this story, we learn that the creation of an inanimate work of art requires human qualities that make the actual work more emotionally associative to our own sensibilities.

I was still without a decent printing press in 1984. I knew the Adana printing press could not handle a project of this size. The Woman's Graphic Center (in the singular for one woman) in Los Angeles rescued me by allowing me to use their Vandercook No.4 proof press. They were a great bunch of women who never once intruded on my concentration while I was printing. And yet they seemed to sense when I was in trouble, because then and only then would one appear and help me out of my predicament with the printing press. If I could remember their names I would mention all of them for the record. One of them indeed was Susan King who continued to print even after the Graphic Center closed because of lack of funds. For many months, I set a few pages of type in my Sherman Oaks workshop; gently laid the type in galleys on the seat of my ageing car; cringed each time I hit a bump in the road on my trek to the Center, which was not a short distance; printed, and then did it all in reverse.

The paper for this book, Mohawk Letterpress, was recommended to me by its designer, Wallace Dawes (then of The Paper Source in Los Angeles). It was newly created specifically for letterpress printing, and its fiber content is such that printing is easily done without dampening the paper. My grateful thanks to the memory of Wally Dawes, husband of RoseMarie mentioned earlier in this book.

Every page of this book is a two-ply laminate that allows for the many decorative paper inlays enhancing the text. I explained in the previous book, The First Emperor of China, the method of using dry transfer glue to achieve this objective. Most of the inlays are marbled papers of Western origin, which is ironic because the story has an Asian background. I first tried papers with Japanese designs as inlays, but soon realized they would only be compatible with a text in Japanese calligraphy, so l readjusted the book's design accordingly with European marbled papers. Incidently, the main characters, who are supposedly Japanese, are named Alice, Bill, and Julio (the Spanish implies a character of amorous leanings—| could have used Don Juan but that would have been unoriginal). When I changed the Asian paper inlays to those of Western origin, I felt that the names should also reflect that decision. It does not seem inappropriate because many years earlier in Chicago when I first discovered Mrs. Aiko's Japanese paper shop, one of the Asian salesladies was named Ruth, which is a decidedly western name. Ruth frowned on me when I first entered the shop. She was in charge and she let me know it by her strict manner towards me. It was only after I asked permission to touch the paper that I was being shown that she turned on a warm glow and a charm that grew each time I returned. By first asking permission I had tacitly shown her the respect she and her product deserved, and she reciprocated with kindness.

The book was originally presented in a box with a hinged cover that has one open side exposing the spine of the book. That construction has not performed well over time, and in those cases where I could, I have replaced it with a simple clam-shell (or side-hinged) box. 

The spine of the book is composed of vertical bamboo rods held together with various colored sewing threads. The colored sewing threads hold the signatures [A signature is a number of folded sheets of paper (folios) gathered together into a single group for sewing.] in place and are of different colors so that one can more easily follow their path from each signature fold, around a bamboo rod, and back again into the fold of the next signature. The sewing method is based on that of a Japanese four needle binding, but is a refinement of that method. The thread is not only sewn from signature to signature, but also wraps around a band of leather at the head and the tail of the spine. The balance of the binding is a colored serigraph on the front and back cover under a pane of clear glass, which in turn is held in place by an archival board frame covered with shiny black kid, and gold leather "Tokyo" corners. The style is similar to kakemono, a Japanese frame for a Japanese scroll painting. Originally, the serigraph was meant to be located at a certain point inside the book, but when the original plan of using a pure form of a Japanese four-needle binding to bind the book did not work out, an alternate method had to be employed and the covers then needed to be decorative. If the four-needle binding had prevailed, the threads were planned to also cross over to the covers and would have been enough decoration. The double-page serigraph was cut in half and used on the covers. Its place within the text was replaced with a single page of decorative marbled-paper inlays that ultimately is more appropriate to its space within the text.

Black moiré silk wrapped around single-ply boards make up the panels behind the front and back covers. They can be considered as doublures, [The French word doublures has no English counterpart, for it invariably refers to leather linings inside the boards of a book, whereas its literal translation is merely "a lining.”] but doublures are usually leather. A black paper flyleaf completes the interior of the covers. Because the covers are made of glass, they are susceptible to breakage. I have successfully replaced a number of broken glass covers that were damaged in shipment by first carefully removing the shards (hoping they have not scarred the serigraphed print), and then, because water-based glue was used, releasing the spine side of the black moiré panel. Then I released the extension of the black paper flyleaf. This allowed access to the vertical side of the back of the trough that frames the cover. The rest of the shards could then be removed, and a new piece of glass slid into place. I then reglued the flyleaf and the panel. Plexiglas instead of glass could have been used but it is much too flexible for a rigid hard cover.

The letters for the main title, Birds in Paradise, were first drawn by hand and then a metal plate was made from that drawing for printing. The alternate title, Life Upon A Japanese Screen, and its decoration were also drawn by hand and printed from a metal plate. It carries a pop-up Japanese screen. The colors were serigraphed onto Japanese gold tea chest paper and enhanced by hand with white colored pencil. I do not recommend this process because the surface of the tea-chest paper is so dense that the lacquer-based silkscreen inks could not penetrate it, and lay on the surface for days unable to dry because their carrier qualities could not be absorbed. A better plan would be to use water-based acrylic colors, which air dry much more quickly. Since each folio is laminated and two pages thick, the outer portions of the folding screen are inlaid onto the bottom sheet of paper by cutting an opening in the top sheet, thus inlaying them and allowing for space in which the balance of the folding panels could reside without causing a bulge in the book block.

The first page of text is a poem framed with a strip of lace paper around it. Because the lace paper is set as a "sandwich" within the space between the two laminated papers, it can be seen through, and into, the inlaid gold tea-chest paper antiqued with brown brush strokes framing the poem on the next page. The gold tea-chest paper is also inlaid within the first layer of its laminated page. This method of allowing the reader to see through a page serves as an unbroken guide for leading the reader through successive and related parts of this author's communication. I will use a similar device in the future for Charles Bukowski's Not Quite Bernadette (1990). In this latter case, the reader will not only see through a page, but around torn areas of the fore edge of each facing page. 

On the following pages, the poetry slowly turns into prose backed with visuals suggesting Japanese life. A mustard-colored Moriki paper is serigraphed with the Japanese mountain Fujiyama rising from a gray mist into white clouds. This is literally framed in wood bark. The Japanese pare it extremely thin and then adhere it to a carrier paper. All I had to do was cut it down to size and piece it together to form what looks like a mitered frame. The design of a given piece of paper will often be all that is necessary to conjure up within the designer’s mind the correct path to follow.

Another page has a strangely shaped text block with a lotus blossom protruding from its top. The lotus blossom was created by cutting out the flower petals from single-ply paperboard. The pieces are then glued together in a three dimensional overlapping fashion and secured into place beneath the silkscreen on the board where the paper will eventually be placed for printing. When the black rubber squeegee pulls the colored ink over the layer of silkscreen, paper, and three-dimensional flower, a rubbing is created, one that is very similar to when a graphite pencil is rubbed over a piece of paper that has been placed over an object in relief. In this case however, the object appears in the color of the ink that was used. Now, how did I come upon this method? Simply by making my usual errors. I have done a tremendous amount of silkscreening over the years, and at some point | realized that if an object became inadvertently placed under the sheet of paper that | was screening, a ghost image of it appeared on the paper. It was simple logic to discover what caused it and then to apply the method as a technique. As you will see, I used it only once, and then never again, not because I don't like it, or that it isn't effectual, but because I have never again had a situation that called for its use.

Another page has the text block shaped as a vase with flowers immersed within it. The text then changes from prose to poetry and then back again. Two double-page spreads are screens that fold out when the pages are opened. The type is printed over colored abstract forms which were serigraphed. Oil-based silk-screen ink on paper is less than a soft surface for the incising of letterpress printing. Thinning the ink with extenders allows it to sink deeper into the surface of the paper and permits the paper to retain its original softer surface.

One of the characters, Bill, is represented as a human with webbed feet and wings

for arms. Bill appears for no other reason than to be decorative. As with anything that has ever existed, he does, however, play a role in the plot. But he is used only as an incidental feature of the overall design, giving him little reason for being. His station in life is so sorrowful that I have given him wings to fly away if he wishes. This is one case where I have intruded on the incidental progress of the characters, but I have not altered or impeded it, because Bill never flew away.

One page that appears just before the end of the story is a visual representation using various cutouts of different marbled papers inlaid into a design the way wood veneer is used in marquetry. The aggregate design is entirely inlaid into the paper because of the depth created by laminating two pages together. This was the place where the cover serigraph was supposed to be placed. The marbled marquetry turned out to be more fitting in this spot than the cover serigraph because it more clearly implies the artist's contrivance of a predetermined visual form rather than the natural

evolution of one.

The story ends with the passage of time destroying everything the artist has done, as well as what the characters have tried to attain. However, the energy from those aspirations is not lost and becomes newly created forms that the artist will reuse in a new grand design. [Throughout this story the adjective, "grand," is continually used with the word, "design," to satirically imply that the artist has assumed an imperialistic position. At the end of the story the connotation is justified by the revelation that the artist is in reality a supreme being.] The reader may have guessed that the artist is Cod an the artworks.

I created a graphic print for the debut of this work, which was held at The Paper Source in Los Angeles. It shows the disintegration of a Japanese screen. Those parts and pieces that have peeled away reveal parts of the story beneath waiting to be exposed.

©Book Club of California