The briefest bit at home

This is a misleading timeline because I attended the Cleveland Arts Prize ceremony right before I left for Michigan for my annual milkweed residency. But I'm going to pretend this is a section about one of the narrow windows I had at home this fall between incessant travel. I met Amber, a CAP recipient a few years ago, way back when I used to teach artists' books at CIA, where she still teaches. We both loved teaching Irena, the one student from those times that I am still in touch with. I love seeing her career blossom and admire her dedication to her family, hometown, and public art.

Two weeks later, I visited Oberlin for my artist talk at the museum for the show that I am part of right now that runs thru June 21, 2026. Kevin, the curator, very kindly pulled the Chinese landscape painting that is a huge part of my hanji trajectory. This is a piece of hanji that is pasted front side down so that the backside could be recycled as a colophon, even though it was never inscribed.

By Li Liufang in 1616, it's hard to see, but the entire ground was prepared with gold before the landscape was painted on top.

It reads more brown in the photos but it's still a lovely gold. Though different from the gold flecks that I wrote about for years, inspiring me to return to Korea to grab my first language by the tail before it escaped forever, it was still amazing to see it for the first time since the late 90s. Now that I know Arnold Chang, himself an incredible painter in the Chinese literati lineage, I also learned my misunderstanding of this entire scroll. He appraised this acquisition by Oberlin and when I asked if this was painted on Korean paper, he said likely not. So the whole story I believed, that it was painted on hanji, was incorrect! Only the colophon pastedown was hanji, and not particularly fancy paper, simply recycled from something else.

I also visited the art library quickly to see the display of my books from the collection. I was amazed to see that some of my earliest work from 1999 still retains so much of the essence of my books today. I'm also grateful to a donor for donating my large artists' book currently in the exhibit to the library!

Meanwhile, I had been working for a while at home on a new jiseung piece inspired by my summer visit to the Met's Korean gallery. I had a very clear vision of where this was going, and then it ended up not going there at all, but I'm still happy I have a new piece.

The lid was supposed to be a duck head and I worked so hard on it, ripping it out at least once, only to have it not work at all. But that's okay. These things happen, and this is still a handsome outcome of the process. Oh, and the campus visit was great! I was touched by all of the people who turned out; it's always exciting when more chairs need to be dragged out. I was happy to catch up with new and old friends and colleagues though it was not even close enough time to really catch up.

October Milkweed Residency

Milkweed Residency always feels like coming home. This year, last minute, we reverted to the original trio of Pati (at left), Tim, and me. Jill is in the background here helping us harvest.

Ticks were very busy this year so we stayed in the horse pasture and nearby. Saw lots of dogbane as well!

I was so happy to see Jill and she was very kind to Lester. He was their one remaining pet but weeks later, he was gone, too.

I steamed immediately after processing the harvest and later separated the pods into "burst" and "not burst" bags. Thank goodness I realized on the way home that I could detour to Oberlin and throw both bags in the freezer next to the paper studio, and leftover stalks there as well. I love efficiency (and there is NO way those pods would have fit into my home freezer!).

This is a bit out of sequence but it's after stripping stalks that I steamed. I did much of it on the first day but then left the rest over a day or two.

I tried to work around meal prep and meal times to get the batch stripped before throwing it into the woods.

This year we had a field trip to Kalamazoo! I had missed the Washi Transformed show that has been traveling for years in a few different locations, so I was eager to finally see it. Yuko's piece is on the left of the title wall and more pieces were distributed through both galleries.

Eriko Horiki's illuminated washi

Yuko Nishimura's folded washi

We also had a visit to the book arts center and caught up with Jeff. I think afterwards I went straight to bed but I can't remember exactly the sequence of my naps. I could sense we were all slowing down in our own ways and while I was greedy for their company, I was also glad to turn in early at night. After the harvest and Kzoo trip were done, I was curious to see Pati's paper studio setup for the year, and loved seeing her watermarks both on her mould,

and stored on the fridge!

This reminded me that I also want to get a vat warmer (not what this was made for but an excellent investment).

I was jealous of their giant nasturtiums! I planted mine from seed for the first year ever and they were tiny, but then again, they were in planters.

And, of course, part of the joy of Pati's and Tim's company is shared meals. This time I did a big batch of japchae, which I haven't made in years there, and it sustained us over a few more meals. Pati did a bang up job with her first kongjang/kongjorim, since I get paranoid now about not cooking with enough protein (I can't put meat in my japchae anymore so I wanted protein somewhere).

On the way in, I stopped in Ann Arbor to lunch with Cathy and meet her new wonderful mentee, Trina. On the way out, I got to see Katherine and visit the art library and museum, where I did a quick visit to the Korean gallery. There's not much to say about my annual Michigan visit because it's always the same: nourishing, rejuvenating, full of wonderful friends, and my favorite papermaking fiber. I'm so grateful to my impeccable hosts, who are incredibly good humans and artists who work with genuine integrity while staying curious and open, always, while creating beauty every single day.