A record forty-seven days after I started the physical work on it, ‘Rivers Under The Sahara’ is complete.
I’ve been designing this book since before I ever considered making weird book art sculptures out of fabric and beads. Since 1991-92, when I first heard Rush’s haunting anthem ‘Dreamline’ on their Roll The Bones album. The whole song…the whole album…is magnificent, but Neil Peart’s phrasing struck its own notes in my stubborn brain:
She’s got a liquid-crystal compass
A picture book of the rivers
Under the Sahara
I wondered: What would that book look like? (Now I know. My version looks like this.)
In 1991, I still confined my embroidery and beadwork to wall tapestries and clothing, which I either gave away or sold for very low prices. Like most new artists, I wasn’t sure of my skill or its worth. So I hope the people who have ‘Lake Spirit’, ‘Creatrix’, ‘Wine-dark Sea’, ‘Sea Harp’, and ‘Moon Zen’ know what they have.
In 1991, satellite imagery was just beginning to confirm old legends hid truth. 150,000 to 10,000 years ago, during the several Greenings of North Africa, there were massive river systems cutting through the savanna and hills. Thirty years later, better satellite and ground archaeology have mapped out the river channels under the sand: Irharhar, Tamanrasett, Sahabi, Kufrah, the Ennedi Massif, and more. Vast swamplands stretched in what is now southern Libya. Humans traveled along these waterways, leaving artifacts and other traces.
Even when I started making books in 1997, ‘Rivers Under The Sahara’ was a distant, often set-aside goal. I had to hone my skill and grow my patience. As I waited, the Sahara grew, and our civilization ignored its lessons at our peril.
This is a lovely bit of bookshelf bling, but it has teeth.
I collected materials, knowing which colorways I’d probably need in beads, thread, and fabric: pale pink and cream, dark red, dusty gold, amber, gray-tan, turquoise, and green. Some of the beads used in this book were purchased almost three decades ago. Some came from the stashes of women who died or gave them up in the last three years. A lot of them, and the fabrics, come from thrift store finds.
I made a *lot* of other books and art. In 2018 I got a job completely unrelated to art while using several of my art skills, which pays well but demands a lot of time. So I stopped finishing book art pieces for a couple of years. I’ve started five or six projects, but they are slow going.
Neil Peart, Rush’s Doctor of Percussion and Master Songwriter, died in January 2020. Then came Covid, and a long, terrifying, infuriating year of grief and rage. I lost family and friends. If I didn’t do something lovely and fierce that summer, I thought I might lose what passes for my soul and humanity.
I worked on fabric panel pieces for ‘The Violet Protest Project’ and a related book arts piece in the fall of 2020. I was an online political activist and gadfly. I made jewelry and launched a couple of self-published novels. I divested some art supplies (I’ve been collecting since 1983 or so) and sent raw materials to people who’ll be able to use them better. I judged I might be ready to try another round of art grants applications, and attempt the ‘masterclass’ books lurking in my design notebooks.
There are seven of those book arts pieces. ‘Sahara’ is one.
A show notice in March finally got me moving on this book, parts of which I’ve had sketched out for years. The show entry deadline was June 3, 2021. Most of the time I’d spend six months to a couple of years on a piece this size and scope. I had only a couple of months…and I was also finishing the ‘Violet Nation’ book at the same time! First I dug out the old project bag with collected materials and research notes. Then I did more research.
On April 19th I prepared the cream linen fabric pieces, marked off six rectangles, and painted the stylized topographic designs drawn from closer satellite imagery of the Sahara and my own experiences in the American Southwestern deserts.
Then followed full-time work at the day job, caregiving for a friend, and spare time spent embroidering. I made six more fabric panels in applique linen and cotton, preparing them for the embroidered poem that sets the tone of this book:
‘We painted our lives on cliff walls above mountain springs / We followed the waters down to golden lands / To braided rivers and acacia groves / Our campfires spangled the night plain / Our songs greeted the dawn / Our herds stamped the sunset to red dust / Water misted into hard blue sky / Now the ghosts of green leaves hide under the sand.’
Along the way I learned a really efficient way to get hand-embroidered text on varying-density layers of constructed fabric: Solvy or other transparent water-soluble stabilizers! Simply trace the text onto the stabilizer, cut it to fit, glue it in place with clear water-soluble glue sticks, let dry, and sew. Once the embroidery is finished, just wash it out with cold water.
For the cover I chose a deliberately-frayed wraparound fabric panel, and a stitched-spine accented with beads. Tassels help visually anchor the book, and act as a counterweight when the book is open in someone’s hands. Beaded fore-edges add a bit of hidden glimmer, revealed only when the book is open. A carved bone and leather toggle closure helps keep it tightly wrapped.
I’m very happy with this book now. I’ll know if it got juried into the show in a couple of weeks, but I only used the show as impetus to work on this. One down, six books to go!
They all have teeth.