JD'A – 13: THE LITTLE SAND CRAB — 1981

---

JD'A – 13: THE LITTLE SAND CRAB

THE | LITTLE | SAND | CRAB | by | D’Ambrosio | Sherman Oaks, California.

2-3/8 x 2-7/8: marbled endpaper, [1–2]: blank, [3]: title page, [4]: copyright, [5]: blank, [6–7]: image, [8]: blank, [9–10]: text, [11]: image, [12]: blank, [13–24]: text, [25]: image, [26]: blank, [27–37]: text, [38]: blank, [39]: colophon, [40]: logo of The Compulsive Printer. 

Colophon: This edition has been set | in Bulmer and printed on | Ingres Oyster paper. | This is copy No. [#in pen] | of 75 copies and 10 artist | proofs.

Images: Title page is a wood block with Sherman Oaks, California at the bottom.

Other 3 images are numbered at the bottom in pencil and signed with ’81.

Binding: Red cloth over boards framing a 23k gilt sunburst exposing Cockerell endpaper between its rays; gold leaf ornament at head of spine.

Cutaway slipcase of black Ingres paper over boards

From 19 years and Counting:

THE LITTLE SAND CRAB

A Miniature Book

Edition: 75 numbered copies, and 10 artist proofs

Size: 2-3/8 x 2-7/8 inches

Type: 8 pt. Bulmer

Leaves: 20 - Ingres oyster paper

Binding: Red cloth over boards framing a 23k gilt sunburst exposing Cockerell endpaper between its rays; gold leaf ornament at head of spine; cutaway slipcase of black Ingres paper over boards

1981

Mr. Mundell was quite ill while working on this book. He expired a year later, and this was our last collaboration. The explanation for the story of this book is on page 27. The binding is another story. I first tried to use an ecru-colored cloth, but quickly rejected it. The story, set on a tropical isle, needed a "hot" color. Red was the likely choice. Since the endpaper is seen through the rays of the sunburst in the front cover, I needed a paper that would indicate a wavy sea. Finding the correct endpaper was such a problem that I almost abandoned this book. Once again, fate led me to The Paper Mill (now The Paper Source) in Los Angeles, and its co-owner, Rose Marie Dawes, who not only provided the perfect endpaper, but also has become a good friend and advisor. & The weight of a large book allows it to easily slide out of its slipcase—not so with a miniature. This cutaway version allows one's fingertips to grasp the little book and easily remove it from its slipcase.

From A Memoir of Book Design:

Mr. Mundell was quite ill while working on this book. He died a year later, and this was our last collaboration. Once again, he printed the text in Indiana and I produced the graphics in Southern California. However, this time I did not use Mr. Mundell's plastic plates. All of the graphics are hand cut woodblocks with lead type inclusions for the letters. The explanation of this story is included in Anaked, One (1972). This time, like Emily & Oscar, it was done as a miniature. Its short length and moral essence made it highly suitable for a small size. If it were a larger book, the story would take up the space of only a few pages, which would limit the number of graphic images the reader sees while reading various parts of the story. If the book were larger, only a small amount of the text could then be placed on individual pages, and the result would be to have the reader/viewer confronted with text blocks floating like postage stamps within ultra-wide margins. In its original form, it was indeed done in a larger format. However, it was part of a larger and longer work, and even so, was presented with only

four graphic prints because of space limitations.

Because of its small size, a miniature book appeals to the very personal side of one's nature. It nestles delicately within the hands of a reader.

The small area in which text and graphics are contained tends to heighten the emotion they arouse and make it a more personal experience. And you have earlier learned how I originally felt about miniatures: I thought the format was too small (and "cute") to take its message seriously, and that its small type was too difficult to read and thus to comprehend. Happily, the necessity of shipping unbound pages to Mr.

Mundell in Indiana caused my conversion

Once again, the binding of the piece is the first thing that the reader/viewer sees. Thus it is where to begin if one is to bridge the gap between the lure of the cover and its promise of the text. But, to go even beyond the binding, I will begin with the slipcase. I had seen many fumble with a miniature book in a slipcase. The problem is that a miniature book has little weight to speak of, and weight is what propels a larger book from its slipcase when the entire assembly is tilted in one's hands. So, in order to avoid fingernails digging in between the cover and the slipcase to retrieve a miniature book (as I had seen miniaturists do many times), I designed a cutaway slipcase. It allows fingertips to grasp the book and gently ease it from its container. This slipcase feature made possible another design feature: a small actual gilded leaf which protrudes from the top of the spine where a headband normally would be. An enclosed slipcase would not allow room for the leaf (which protrudes above the top of the spine) to expose itself. Thus another benefit derives from an associated root: a gilded gold leaf with points as sharp as a crab's pincers. I incorporated this feature just this once and then never used it again. I saw, as the years progressed, that an object protruding beyond the confines of its structure has a tendency to depart from its moorings. Once again I state that many of my innovations needed the passage of time to test whether they endured well. If I see that a problem exists, I will try to alter the concept. And, once again, the artistic manifestation takes precedence over its construction. The concept of the cutaway slipcase is one l continue to use.

The slipcase is black and the cover of the book, which can be seen because of the cutaway portion of the slipcase, is red cloth. On the front cover, the red cloth frames a twenty-three karat gilded cutout sunburst with wavy rays. Between the cutout rays, the colors of blue, black, and white of a marbled endpaper can be seen. The suggestion is one of rolling and roaring ocean tides. This, complete with the shiny gilded sunburst and the hot red cloth, sets the stage for a tropical island where the story takes place. I am particularly fond of this cover. When it is opened, one can see the back of the sunburst which is also gilded. The effect is one of a precisely crafted piece of jewelry and somehow demands respect.

I was relatively new to Los Angeles at this time and finding material sources was proving to be very difficult, especially when I had just come from Chicago where it seemed everything I ever needed was available and at a convenient distance. L.A. is a giant space where all of the material sources seem scattered and cloaked. When I was searching for the correct marbled endpaper to use behind the sunburst, I happened upon a small shop filled with exotic papers called The Paper Source. It was located just beyond downtown Los Angeles in a newly created artistic SoHo kind of area of old one-story factories turned into soon-to-be trendy loft apartments and shops. At that time it was still just a real estate person's nightmare-but the seeds had already been planted for very expensive, chic loft apartments (which would later drive out the artists because they could no longer afford the rent). At The Paper Source, I met the proprietress, RoseMarie Dawes, and I not only found the paper but also made a new friend. When I told RoseMarie what my design plan was, and that I wanted the effect of a rolling ocean as seen from beyond the rays of the sun, she told me she had just the right piece of marbled paper. And it was. It is a suitable design based upon those of the English marblers, Messrs. Douglas Cockerell and Son, hence this design is simply labeled “Cockerell." (The term is somewhat metonymical in that it is the name of the creator of the pattern and also suggests the tool that creates it: a comb (actually various combs with various distances between their teeth. So where are the metonyms? The cock's "comb," and Cockerell, the creator.) The problem was that she had only a small swatch of the paper and had to order more. Since this is a miniature book, the small swatch was enough for one copy. I needed that small swatch to complete a copy to send off to an Eastern book dealer who wanted it for showing as soon as possible. An order for the paper could not be accomplished in the short amount of time for which I needed it. I pleaded with RoseMarie to give me the swatch. She said that she could not or she would not have it to show others who might want the same thing. I pleaded again. She was firm in saying that she had others to think of also. I think I had a headache that day. She not only gave me an aspirin, but she also relented and gave me the swatch because she knew how important it was for me to send off the copy of the book. Her vulnerable sensitivity endeared her to many L.A. artists.

The title page is a block of wood in which I cut in reverse the title in cuneiform-style letters. Because the actual letters are cut away, they do not print. The title then becomes the color of the paper surrounded by the printed area of the block (dropout). The cuneiform shapes give the story a sense of antiquity. Earlier we learned that the crab is very, very, old (hundreds of years), and it is tired of witnessing humankind's foibles; its ploy is to induce a human to put it out of its misery.

The first graphic covers two facing pages and is printed in black on a background that is the color of the paper throughout. At this point, the light brown color is self-evidently the color of a sandy seashore. The sunburst at the top points downward with its wavy rays, while a crab at the bottom of the image points upward with its pincer claws and interacts with the sun's rays (which are also somewhat bent into a crab-like leg form). Groups of printed words and letters of different weights and styles are interspersed within the print to connote different aspects of the story. One group of letters is simply "TT" which implies the slang term for female breasts. Don't forget, the story is highly erotic. Now, why mix letterforms with visual graphics? The letterforms are meant to be pronounced (if only in the viewer's mind), thus giving sound to the visual experience. Hence every human sense requires a response except that of smell. And I will go into that later as we continue into the evolution of my work.

The story begins on the next page and is preceded by a black oblong printed block of grained wood with some unreadable but intelligent nicks in it. The last page will repeat this symbol as the story ends. So, the story begins and ends with this symbol and is essentially sandwiched between the two. Why? As directional signposts. Think of the grained block of wood at the beginning of the story as quotation marks at the beginning of a citation, and the one at the end of the story as the unquote marks. A writer must lead the reader through a maze that is the story itself. Making the reader familiar with symbolic aspects treats the reader with respectful intelligence. And the courtesy is usually returned to the author for the reader.

The story that follows is told in poetry that switches (abruptly and without warning) from satirically profound thought to antagonistic doggerel, and then back again. The implication is that the contrast evokes farce which is what this "game" between the ancient crab (who will pay to have someone kill him) and the reluctant young man (who wants wealth to maintain his bride) is all about. (You may remember that in my first book, You Dress Funny, this same effect was done using the contrast between naive prose and sarcastic poetry.) The next wood block, which appears after the first page of text, is purposely obfuscated so as not to deter anyone who may be offended However, it takes little scrutiny to ascertain that the young couple beneath the palms is naked. But if the viewer works to discern this, he or she will be rewarded by noting that the female's hand is holding the male's erect penis.

There is one more wood block in this book and that appears near the

middle of the story. It is at the point in the story where the young man thinks that all is lost and he has no hope of gaining financial status to win the favors of his female friend-all because he made a foolish decision and let the crab he had in his grasp, the one who could grant his every wish, get away. The print depicts a serene, palm lined seashore with the gentle waves lapping at the sand and a setting sun at the horizon line. The orb of the sun is made up of "TOO BAD, MY LAD; SO SAD YOU HAD TO SEE OPPORTUNITY DIP BELOW A WATER LINE." To add to the irony, the setting sun dips below the waterline as do the hopes and aspirations of the young man. Once again, you may recall my very first book, You Dress Funny (1970), and the very first visual representation I did was an image of a sun made up of intelligent words. 

There is a difference between a graphic print (depiction) and an abstract background, or an adornment. The task is to know when to use either form. Words can often speak for themselves and need no visual enhancement. Sometimes a graphic print can even be intrusive. Usually, when the gist of a story, especially a short story, is stressed by an author, no adornment is needed. Adornment would, it seems to me, diffuse the emotional sense of the story's outcome. However, and it is so in some cases, by merely adding a simple swash of color to a page, an author's words may flare with emotions incommunicable by any other means. I find that if l am personally offended by my design, then the reader will be also. The artist must justify what the artist has done. If he or she can't, then something is wrong with the design plan and it must be reworked until the artist is comfortable with it. This system may not produce results acceptable to everyone, but it is the only way I can live with a difficult decision. If an artist lets his or her honest reactions be a guide, the artist will always be able to justify an action. The way to do this is to simply listen to oneself-and believe what is heard.

©Book Club of California