Dreams come true: Hanji Madang @ Penland, 2026

I'm a little over a week back home after the most fulfilling experience of recent memory, years in the making: my first hanji summit! Myong set up this perfect photo on our first night, after lots of stressful travel that was affected by severe storms in the northeast (L to R: Steph, Esther, Justine, me, Lisa, Minji, Myong). Thankfully, we all made it. This is after we opened the package from Korea with tool and hanji orders and grabbed whatever for props. We hadn't made anything yet except building the foundation of this beautiful sisterhood.

It feels nearly impossible to write about it because it was so deeply moving, healing, and necessary. We had gone through a lot of ups and downs to get to this point, and things looked different from the way I had originally envisioned it. In the end, it turned out exactly the way it needed to be. I had flown with two kilos of magnificent dak fiber from Korea, which we got from Uiryeong at Shin Hyun Se Traditional Hanji.

It was so satisfying to work with such high quality fiber; it barely required cleaning and was so shiny and luminous after cooking. I had done this alone many years ago but it was much more joyful to share with everyone else. We had talked about using other fibers ahead of arrived but in the end used this, Korean fiber that Lisa brought from Jeonju, and Florida fiber from Amy. Rather that use easy to source fiber, this was the ideal setting to use the best that we could find, closest to the heart of hanji. We were so grateful to Mr. Shin for letting us buy from his stash.

Every step required figuring out how to configure the studio to best support the task and our bodies. I was surprised that the beating implements were not up to snuff, and already had designs months in advance to become friendly with Chelsea, as the wood studio would be vital to our ability to sort out tools. Thank goodness they were 100% amenable from the very beginning, and immediately took a tracing of the prototype I had brought. Immediately, they knocked out two beautiful pairs of maple beaters (not in time for this first round of beating, but excellent for subsequent batches).

 

Years ago, I had taught hanji making at Penland twice, but only modified style accompanied by allied techniques. They invited me repeatedly to return but I was unhappy with the dearth of infrastructure for hanji making and did what I have the luxury of doing: referred out former students / mentees. Steph did so admirably a couple years back, which meant that Penland had one hanji vat (based on her design, which is based off of mine, which Andy also created a version of). Fortunately, studio coordinator Beth was happy to build a second vat before we arrived, and this one is based on a design that Steph and Jeff worked on this year, which will eventually be shared (I have long wanted a location for this kind of info and now have a critical mass of people with the shared talents to make it happen!). We measured what we needed height-wise and Beth built us risers before the liner went on.

[photo by Steph] When I had my original hanji summit idea, only a few of my former students were interested. Maybe it's because my vision was too blurry, it was simply a feeling of wanting to gather people I've worked with in the past who are clearly dedicated to sharing hanji in their own ways, to meet each other. They each knew me, but did not necessarily know each other. I had a back and forth with Justine, where I made a list of potential activities and told her, I don't want lectures and panels and us all sitting around watching presentations. She said, then don't put those things on the list! Because of how ingrained systems are, I automatically thought that summit = boring gathering in a sleepy dark room. Penland was one of the first places I approached, and they said, once your idea is more firm, come back to us. It wasn't until Veronica met Beth at a winter residency and shared my idea, that Beth said, please have her reach back out, I would love to make this happen!

Unbeknownst to me, Penland had a new invite-only visiting collective residency program for BIPOC artists, and offered me the opportunity to bring a hanji group to the papermaking studio. I had been so caught up preparing for a trip to San Francisco that I forgot completely our zoom appt and left Beth and Leslie hanging, but they were so gracious and let me reschedule a chat with Leslie the following week when I got to Cali. Beth made it clear she was willing to invest in tools from Korea and we set up an order right away. I still remember pacing the poorly-lit airbnb studio, making calls to the six artists that I wanted to include, inviting them to a fully funded, almost two-week stay, together (what other residency sends you home with a generous unrestricted grant to continue enacting the sparks that begin in the studio??). Almost two years later, I was overjoyed to capture this scene that reminded me so much of a 1933 photograph by Dard Hunter of his trip to Korea, with people performing many different steps of the hanji making process.

Being able to work in an affinity group, bound by heritage as well as material/process, is so rare, and the generosity with which everyone approached this gathering was astounding. Look at all the bal in one studio! A mix of tools shared by Penland, Steph, Lisa, Myong, and Justine. There was never any concern about damage or whose was whose, and we sorted out nuances of each tool while using them.

Early in our prep meetings, it became clear that everyone was interested in tools/toolmaking. I don't know why I was surprised, given this is such an important pillar of my research. But what I forgot is how much longer I've been in the field trying to sort things out, and how certain ideas calcify. For example, I'm only interested in bamboo processing for screens even though the species we need is not here, but other people want to experiment with precursors to bamboo that are available on this continent, which included grasses and reeds. I'm still skeptical for this as a solution to long-term, large-scale toolmaking, but as exercise and practice, it's extremely valuable. Steph brought sorghum, and from the first night everyone started to sort by diameter to prepare for weaving a screen.

I had brought a newly batch of 60 brass weaving bobbins by Emily, based on a Korean design I had brought back from Jeonju in 2021. Famously, everyone who has worked on batch/production tools for hanji in the US (scraping knives and bobbins) has done it once and then refused to continue because it's SO much work. Plus they are artists who are perfectly capable of doing it but are more committed to their own art making over batch commissions. Which I relate to! This is why I don't sell my hanji; I'm not interested in production hanji making, and have never been interested in it mostly out of the respect that I have for real production work / lack of time. I make it for my own art and when teaching.

[photo by Myong] Because I'm pulled in so many directions, it's very challenging to stay on top of disseminating my research. I have tons of years-old footage that I have not been able to share yet, and it gnaws at me constantly. Here, I finally had an outlet to share daily with people who actually cared, to whom these images were legible. The bobbins a great example of what has fallen out of my head: the one remaining Korean bal maker has leading threads tied onto all of her bobbins. I had only one example with the original tie/knot on the bobbin, and asked everyone to reverse engineer it (I need but still haven't gotten readers and bifocals). This took days, and I tried at the beginning of our stay to find the textiles teacher Amanda for advice, and was told by her assistant that someone in class had tapestry experience so I invited Mei to the studio to try and sort it out. She was looking at the knot and then I went to my computer to look for a video, only to find one of the bal maker showing how she did it.

Myong and Justine had spent the MOST time on this puzzle, and when I told them, Justine yelled, "AIMEE!!!" That was only one of so very many giant collective laughs. Truly, the amount of laughter we shared was incredible. Beth had made weaving loom prototypes and Esther sawed grooves to prepare. No doubt, preparing the loom, threading the bobbins, measuring the lines, and winding on, were the most labor intensive of the process.

Thankfully, the labor was shared, and almost everyone pitched in on this tiny bal. We had one mishap after I saw Minji work so hard on threading and setting up the second half of the screen (we went full Korean style, weaving half the screen at once, which means the second half has to go around two existing splints before you can start weaving). Minji had gotten every thread into place before the bobbins got wound on, and taped them down. After our slide talks in the second week, we opened our studio to share what we had been up to. It was mobbed, and I was across from the loom when I saw a visitor accidentally knock over the tray where Minji had painstakingly set all of the threads. I think Esther took over the next day to reset them, and helped at the end to finish the bal because we were so close to departure. Steph went twice to the woodshop to get the edgesticks made.

This entire process was an excellent example of the purpose and value of prototyping. There is no way to get around it: so many lessons learned/re-learned!

My challenge was, as always, the limits of my body. I had scheduled my surgery believing what the medical professionals told me, that I could fly and work at three months out. Even the PT at a month out said that I'd be feeling so much better at two months. But those were not accurate expectations, so when I felt not great at two months, it took forever to realize that I was still in acute recovery and not ready to do what I was doing. On top of that, a giant confluence of wonderful but demanding things happened right when I should have been 100% focused on recovery. Leslie had told me that Penland had golf carts that I could use, but I was too prideful at first. I went from mile walks on flat Ohio land to hiking to the studio and house multiple times a day, thinking it would be built-in PT. Instead, by the second day, my nonsurgical hip went out and I was in awful pain. I asked someone to request the cart, which arrived the next morning, and Esther took on full driving duties for the duration. She took me to every meal, naptime, laundry, and early turn ins when I couldn't stay in the studio any later. No surprise, she fell ill the last day and it blew up once she got home. But I am so thankful to her, and everyone else, for taking such good care of me.

I forget all the time that the skills I have been building are not restricted to the studio. When I selected and refined this group, I was looking at all the big and small ways that each individual would benefit the whole. Everyone had a different set of talents, personality, and approach. When considering all of the people I had met through my Hanji Retreats and beyond, I knew that I wanted Myong on board. She proved to be crucial in creating group harmony and a framework to enter the space (she even marked the tree outside our house, and really took to heart what a madang is). She built solidarity among us but also all of the circles outward, as we inhabited in a larger space. She was the only one to bring a car, and prepared all kinds of things: Korean food, self-care items, and an entire set of Korean drums. Twice, she led drumming sessions for everyone on campus, which was a whole other level of generosity than I think anyone could have anticipated.

Lisa worked on kapa making at first, though shifted to wonderful dyed bark lattice and cyanotype as she sorted out the best way to use the Korean fibers. She also brought her drum from Hawai'i, which we used often in the studio to calm and steady our hearts. Her dyestuffs from Korea were also shared completely with no bounds, and led to stunning colors and unexpected results. We were able to compare Korean and Japanese persimmon juice, and it was a joy to be able to run experiments that are possible at home alone but so much more fun in community.

[photo by Esther] I tried to process my sorrow, or what I later realized was grief, around my inability to work the way I am used to, by doing one giant tedious task for most of the time: make hanji yarn for a book edition. Again, a task wholly possible to do at home alone, but MUCH more fun to do alongside everyone else in the studio. Esther taped an orange boundary around my bench so that I wouldn't get up and try to do other things (my left hip got better after the golf cart, but then my right foot went out in a very new and weird way). I would sit doing this while yelling over to everyone working differently from how I would have. No one let me lift heavy, and after a while quietly banned me from more intensive parts of the hanji making process, including cleaning. I could only make a little bit of hanji before my foot made it clear that full consecutive days of standing on concrete was not acceptable. I was extremely sad about this but in the end very happy that I made a shit ton of yarn, enough to hopefully finish the edition plus a commission.

Watching everyone fulfill years-long dreams was heart exploding. Justine, in her quiet methodical way, processed ALL of the milkweed fiber that she had harvested over years and saved. She had learned from beating milkweed at my old studio that it makes a mess, so she'd went outside to beat it and worked as much as she could before the rain started, to create batches of hanji in shades of fall, deeper fall, and deepest fall. This was something I did nine years ago, and she had seen the results when we first met four years ago.

She went even further and processed her coma fiber ALSO for the hanji vat. I have seen various versions of beating coma fiber in Howie Clark and Valley beaters, but not a Reina. I was very worried that this batch would turn out like Esther's and Veronica's styrofoam paper, but Justine was brave and did a bunch of beater tests before dumping it into the hanji vat! I was so happy that Steph was in the group, since she is the only other person besides me trained classically in European style papermaking + knew all of the equipment in the shop, so I could stay within my taped border while she guided Justine through the process. Because Steph and I have only been together in settings that didn't involve the ability to lift 50 lbs and more, I had no sense of her strength. She went into mama bear mode when scolding me to stop lifting and moving boards. We are all still waiting to see Justine's photos (there are VERY funny ones in her batch), but she gave an incredible slide talk with the most beautiful images of her milkweed process.

Esther was very focused on making a billion cords for jiseung (I remember those days!!) but once we set up dyes, became extremely excited about dunking all of her cords. She and Minji also helped harvest black walnut husks from one of the paths up to the studio where I noticed them, back when I was still on foot.

[photo by Minji] Here are a few of MANY of Esther's dye tests. She also worked with Steph on preparing a tutorial for Steph's hanji book that will be published in a couple of years. Steph conducted individual interviews with each of us, an unexpectedly beautiful way to process what were doing and how we had all ended up here.

Anywhere there is dak, there is bark lace! Myong cast these stones with variously dyed dak. Her original tiny cast bark forms were the pieces I fell in love with when I first met her a couple years ago.

Myong also had the energy and foresight to unlock many other studios. She printed in the letterpress studio, and there was also running back and forth to the photo studio upstairs after a coordinator mentioned leftover cyanotype chemicals. Of course, we also befriended Jun, who was teaching a woodcut concentration in the printmaking shop connected to letterpress. So much reciprocal Korean snack and food sharing!!

Once the pre-reduced indigo vat was up, Myong also dyed fiber to prepare for sheet formation. Since Steph had ordered a bunch of smaller bal, it was easy to test in a smaller vat instead of worrying about filling the large ones.

In the spirit of activating the madang, we signed a set of prints that Myong made to share with each other. This overview is not even close to complete, and only the seven of us will ever really know what we experienced, but trust that it was completely life and vision affirming. We bonded profoundly, with zero drama, and were very sad to part. I cried at the airport on the way there as we texted each other updates on our flights, because we were finally enacting this great converging of Korean diasporic women upon the mountains of North Carolina. My goal has always been to pass hanji legacy into multiple bodies, to share the joys and burdens of this labor, to bring us further than we've ever been. It's very hard to return to regular life after that, but we'll always have this touchstone, and it's only the beginning.

From the other side

I'm a touch over two months out of surgery! Not really in the mood to blog but the longer it goes, the more stressed I get. I'm definitely not at full energy/stamina and often forget that is normal. Veronica sent me the most perfect care package, which contained TONS of goodies, and this was one of my favorites: a tunnel book of a frog, using handmade paper of course.

This image is a bit of a cheat because it's not post-surgical flowers, instead, post-exhibit ones from Nanette, Eugénie, Lisa, and Yuko. Plus another Lisa's hand-sewn gift to me hanging in the background. I was swimming in flowers immediately post-op and I couldn't believe how many there were, a whole range from very fancy via the mail ones to home garden ones (the sweetest!). I owned zero vases until last year, when Sarah gave me a beautiful giant bouquet for my birthday. Then I owned one vase until now, when I feel like I could start a flower arranging business.

My meal train friends were incredible, and they've already seen a bunch of these pics, but I will never forget their outpouring of generosity. You only have one first surgery, and I couldn't have asked for a better support system, both on the ground and remotely. Here I am with Hyeyung, once I had started PT but couldn't drive yet. She had a gig a few hours away in NY, so she extended her stay and rented a car so she could take care of me in person for a few days. She cooked more food than I knew a layperson could (she is a professional musician and an incredible cook, though I find that talented hands in one arena pick up very easily in others).

Once I no longer needed medical devices (even I was surprised that I was able to ditch my walker around day 5), Julianne and Mia came to pick up the extras that Tom had loaned, while returning things from our hanji week together during their training. The amount of teaching I did right up until surgery is like a fever dream; I look back at pictures and wonder what the hell I was doing, but that kind of unreasonable workload was part of why I had to get surgery in the first place.

I learned a tremendous amount in that initial recovery time, which I tried very hard to protect, but once I had to get active around show prep, it kind of all went to hell. Jim spared me from the kind of installation workload that I often have pre-show, but at a certain point I had to go in to confirm details. Joanne is always fabulous, and she's doing some secret magic that Jim designed, while he's setting magnet placement. Also around this time was when I found out that I was selected for this year's Cleveland Arts Prize.

They had a fancy steamer that I got to use until I handed off to a student worker because I was getting tired, and already been scolded by my PTs to cool it. Thankfully, Sarah drove me twice so that I could be there during install, and later for press. She always says her team is small but mighty and it's TRUE.

The second trip was overkill given my recovery. The morning was a live TV shoot, and I asked the camera guy if he worked out to be in shape to carry all the equipment, and he does! It was very weird to be talking to someone on my headphones through my phone while looking at the camera, so mostly I don't know where I'm supposed to be looking at any given time in the video. Also, I've been trained forever to NEVER look directly at the camera, so it was hard to break that habit.

After the TV shoot, another photographer arrived for an hours-long photo shoot, and while he was with me in the big gallery, a journalist was in the small gallery running an interview with Sara (the curator) and getting more footage of the show. Corey did a great job, and he taught me the insider lingo for people like him who have to do the interviews, writing, photography, and video.

After Sarah drove me back home, I was so hungry and tired but wanted to see Lisa, who had flown in from California to see my show and support me at the opening. The evening went a bit longer than we expected because her GPS took her far away to an Aimee Lane that I have never even heard of (a dead-end street 20 minutes away!), and I asked her to take me to the grocery store where I had accidentally left behind a bag of oranges the previous night because I was so distracted by how nice the CVS clerk was about my NYT story in print (I picked up two copies in two different places, both the last of the day, so that Kent would have one at the museum during the opening). I won't even get into the ridiculousness of the next day, but Lisa picked me up in the afternoon to drive back to Kent for the actual show opening. 

The big surprise when we arrived, was being waylaid by yet another photographer, who said I was late! Late to what? Another shoot?!??! I had misunderstood Sarah when I asked the Kent photog not to come after my TV and photo shoot the prior day, and instead could come to the opening. I thought that meant he was going to shoot the opening! Instead, they had roped off the show and already set lights, waiting for me. No time for powder, which Sarah had saved me with the prior day. Thankfully, Bob was a super pro and VERY fast, and he did several shots to try and embed me into my art. Love it!

I was then dragged upstairs to the donor champagne toast and so touched by both Sarah's and Jillian's intros. Sarah had selected a dress not in the show that had just come out of the Oberlin show, which was auctioned quickly before we headed downstairs for the opening. Dr. Suyeon Ko kindly provided music for the event with almost no notice, such a pro! [this and the rest of the professional pics are by Andrea.]

I was overwhelmed seeing all of the different guests in the crowd. Here is my contractor Bob, who made it possible for me to move from an 850 square foot custom hanji studio to a custom hanji studio in my home. He has an amazing engineer's mind and eye, and has been critical in the past years, instrumental in designing a brand-new stainless steel hanji vat: the first on this continent. Lisa is talking to him because she is working on her own hanji studio, I am so excited! Note that she is holding all of my stuff: an envelope with a copy of the Times article, my bag that Runxiao brought back from Mongolia, and my phone somewhere.

Here are Rob and Joon-Li, Grace, and Patricia. Joon-Li has been a wonderful champion of my work, collector, and friend (I mean really hardcore: she took me to surgery and then back home, and organized my entire meal train!). She included an image of my piece she now has on the cover of her moving translation, No Hand Held Mine. Grace is the ED of the Sculpture Center; one of her first shows was mine, where she asked me to invite a student, and look at SR's career now, a star! Patricia is an artist coming out of a long architecture career—she astounded me with how excellent her care was immediately post-op, covering every last detail.

My dear friends Lisa and Yuko are directly responsible for choices I made in some of the show art, because they print at Zygote and are tremendously generous with feedback, advice, and kindness. They are the best people to be around when working in a studio, and Zygote is where I made most of the prints in the show (the rest were with Jessica!).

I could not believe that Wendy made it all the way to Kent during her first week back at school at Oberlin, where she is chairing the English department, and after her own physical therapy session, no less! Her new book drops in November, a month after our birthdays—I think I met a birthday sister at the end of high school from Spokane, but not again until two years ago when I met Pamela (who generously was a sponsor of this show and donated a large dress to the Kent collection, as well as a large book to Oberlin's). Wendy and I didn't figure out our bday connection until this last year.

This is where it all started: Nanette was the first art professor at Oberlin that I really connected with, who opened the entire world of artists' books to me. I was sad at the time that I had only met her in my final year of school, but that was when things all pivoted for me: I had been a straight-A high school valedictorian, but could not pull those grades in college—until I figured out what I actually wanted to study, with my entire self. I've watched her nurture and influence decades of students, including those who have become my dearest proteges, and create a space for books at Oberlin.

I don't remember her name, but she told me that she is an eighth grader. I was astounded by the range of people at this opening, we had over 300 guests, and it was hard not to burst into tears when I gave remarks, because once you get onto those steps and look out, you cannot deny the sheer number of folks and all of the familiar faces of the community that I've built and been folded into over the last 13 years. The last person to greet after receiving lines of people all night was Stephanie, who was a Morgan intern in 2010, when we built the VERY FIRST hanji studio. We were working on this wild dream of mine and now she's all grown up!

So very many other friends and colleagues, but I have to single out 3/5ths of the team: Joanne, the registrar, Sarah, the director, and Sara, the curator of the Kent State Univeristy Museum. Bianca was likely dealing with the books at the store, and Jim is always operating under the radar, but I love this group of people. We did it!

Lisa and I raced through the galleries after the guards started to lock up because she was so busy taking care of me and waiting for the crowds to dissapate that she didn't get to see the whole thing! Then she drove us back to get dinner and took me home. I thought I could finally get to bed and sleep, but then a friend mentioned the lunar eclipse. I ended up staying up at least another hour to see the peak of it at 12:12am. Lisa was only a mile away and on Pacific time, so we texted back and forth. She got this picture, it was going to get to 96%, a blood moon. We are not photographers so you only get a glimpse of the red but it was the perfect way to end the night.

This is what I saw from home, standing in front of my garage, running in and out of the house at various intervals, listening to crickets in the nighttime cacophony. The press tail since the NYT two-week rollout has been intense, with Korean TV (in English) sound check at 6:40am last week, and Korean radio (in Korean) sound check at 9:40pm two nights ago. Sleep is ever elusive but Lisa reminded me yesterday via text to return to the present while I sobbed, held by Dolly, Linda, and Emmylou (Trio was my gift to myself after we lost Dolly). I needed that cry, and today had much more capacity to train Charity on my website backend.

 

There's so much more and yet this is all I can bear for now! My show is up through next May so I hope you can see it, I gave it everything I had. I will share more details at my artist talk on Oct 22—auditorium seats are limited (overflow seating will see me live on video, close to the show itself), so come early to get a seat!

Every inch of June covered in hanji

Final post with my original skeleton! If we don't count teeth in that. Surgery is on Wed, total hip replacement. Prior to that, I insanely scheduled myself to the hilt in a way that was unwise and yet I really felt there was no other way to squeeze out all I could from this joint. After my trip to NY, I immediately prepped for a NYT shoot. This is the aftermath of it, 12 hours later, when I had taken my drying setup outside to grab the last tendrils of the sun. Thank goodness we were in long days!

The next morning was my interview, and then that evening Joko flew in to assist me for three intense weeks of teaching three different groups. My first group was a dream, gelling from the start, and being extremely patient and hardworking through serious swampy summer weather.

I had made two new aprons and they were a hit!

This was the first time I had a beautifully-trained and experienced assistant who could take on teaching duties. Joko took care of ssangbal instruction and vats in the back room and I loved watching her teaching approach. She tells people I was her first papermaking teacher but she really has done so much of it on her own, learning from all kinds of people everywhere and practicing it back home in Puerto Rico.

The first group made the most paper, and we for sure had to get into the showers again, even with the big new drying walls!

It was also a comfort to be able to completely trust and rely on Joko to do things like grade and sort our socialist paper.

The fantastic thing about using the Oberlin paper studio is that we were able to take field trips during lunch to the museum, art library, and main library. This is a Korean book I got in a shop in Seoul for special collections at Oberlin, likely a practice book, nothing special, but fun to use the new flat backlight for viewing.

The only downside to Joko always being three steps ahead of me and doing herculean assisting is that she got very little time at the vat. I did sneak her in for some agitation and one bit of sheet forming.

Second week was my Korean diaspora group—which happens by chance every time. I was so happy to meet people who had been referred by past students, and loved how game they were for everything. The weather had abated, thank goodness, and this one day we needed to press the post but I was unwilling to open the press wider to fit everything in. I told Tori to throw their body onto the whole stack to try and compress it by about a half inch, inch max. I have done this before but in the moment didn't have my apron and boots on so I couldn't directly demo it. It worked!

This group also made enough paper that we had to maximize the drying walls and pour into the shower stalls. Here are photos from week 1, and week 2.

Oh, of course by the end of week one, I got terribly sick, which rarely happens to me. The same day, my phone up and died but I was too sick to get a new one until the day before the next class began. I started to get better but then the virus boomeranged back and hit me right before the third class started. By then, Joko and I had moved ourselves and studio equipment from Oberlin back east.

The final week was to teach Korean papermaking and paper crafts to the inaugural cohort of the Morgan professional certificate program. Hours were really intense but fortunately the weather held and mosquitoes are no longer reigning in the studio. I was glad to be able to bring the entire group to a point where they could start a post and get going on their own, so that they would be prepared to work without me. Joko here is teaching them about grading/curating sheets.

By the end, novices had transformed into people who looked like they worked in a hanji mill, getting boards ready for parted sheets, and ready to prep fiber for independent hanji making. So exciting to see the hard work move right into practice. That week, a great story about my work dropped via Oberlin.

Then I had to roll immediately into getting my home studio ready for the Kent State University Museum staff to come the next morning after class ended to pack and take away about 50 pieces of my art for my upcoming solo show. I had a window of exactly one day, so they accommodated me, even though they had all worked so hard getting a different exhibit up and opened the previous night! I thought I was stressed, but they were so professional and efficient.

So glad to know about these McMaster-Carr bags, though once they were done, the walls were so barren that the room was echoing. It felt like I was moving out! But truly, after working so hard to produce enough inventory, I was relieved to have it safely delivered to the museum. This is another group I trust completely and am excited to see how they design the exhibit. See you on the other side of surgery!