Uniqueness of Your Own Paper
We are no longer surprised when a dozen professional artists, working from the same model or landscape, produce a dozen different works of art. It is taken for granted that your chowder (I base this upon a careful reading of Mrs. Murphy’s famous recipe) will taste unlikethatof anyone else. We recognize, if we travel, the enormous differences in color, bouquet, and taste of the white and red wines offered in every village we visit.
Is there a standard taste for spaghetti sauce? Is there but one reci pe for cu rry? Do you know of only one way to get to Heaven? What is a poem? How does one dance the role of Giselle? Is the unwritten novel running ’round your head the same as mine? How do you produce a first-rate film? Compose meaningful music? Playa jazz piano? Stalk an Arctic char (a fish)?
The act of making handmade paper is not unlike the reactions of the proverbial blind men reacting to an elephant. No matter how closely you follow the recipes contained in this book, no matter how precise your measurements, no matter how carefully you control all of the elements in this capricious process, your paper will not be precisely the same as anyone else’s. There are so many factors involved in this simple but complex, idiosyncratic phenomenon, that the number of permutations and combinations possible in this exercise of esthetic freedom are infinite.
At right is a portrait of the first papermaker. The first papermaker has prevailed on this earth for 300 million years or so, since the middle Coal Age. She belongs to the order Hymenoptera of the family of Vespidae and the super-family, Vespoidea; she is one of more than four million species of insects that buzz, whir, sting, dig, glow, bite, do unusual things, or go bump in the night.
She is a paper wasp who has been engaged in the art of making paper for millions of years; a winged queen of a complex social order who macerates dry wood in her mouth and employs the pulpy result to create a habitat of paper for her empire; her paper structure, or nest, strikes envy in the hearts of contemporary architects and fear in the limbs of small boys and girls.
At this juncture, we are in difficulty -especially if we insist on honesty and objectivity. We are concerned with more than the craft of making paper; we view papermaking, by artists and for artists, as more than a means to an end-rather, as an end in itself and/or a highly artistic craft.