My Two Dozen Photo Books

"Talking about art is like dancing about architecture." - David Bowie. (More cool Bowie quotes here.)

I received an email a few days ago containing a discount code for $20 off a new photo project at Shutterfly. So it looks like I'll be making another little square black There Must Be Magic book. The code is good until Wednesday, so I plan to work on the project over the weekend. It will be a book about autumn.

I've been making photo books for several years now, and just for fun, as I began thinking about the new book, I got out all two dozen of my photo books to have a good look at them. Sometimes it helps get the creative thought process started, just flipping through the other books.

For this photo, I took all of my photo books and lined them up in order, starting at the outside and working in. The first little There Must Be Magic book, Heaven Beneath Our Feet, is at the top left. The most recent book, Pennsylvania Woods and Waters, Book 2, is at the center. The little black square books are 8 inches by 8 inches; the others are about 8 by 11.

I have posted three photos of my little books over the time that I've been on Blip, and I've included comments about my own experience and instructions on how to make one yourself, if you're interested:

Making Magic / How To Make a Photo Book Online
My Photo Books: The Whole Set, So Far
How To Make a Photo Book Online, Take 2

This was a work week that began for me with the sad news about the death of David Bowie. For Monday, I posted a little tribute here on Blip, along with a bunch of links to my favorite Bowie songs. I learned that some of you are also big Bowie fans, and I thank those of you who stopped by to commiserate and mourn: sorrow shared is sorrow divided, as they say.

I have seen lots of stories and photos online this week about David Bowie. I learned that he knew of his impending death for the 12 to 18 months prior to his passing. And one of the quotes I found online - sorry, I can't lay my hands on it - said something to the effect that when Bowie knew he was dying, what did he decide to do? Make some art! And indeed, he did: a new album was forthcoming, just the week before his death.

I do not pretend my art is as amazing as his was, but it means something to me, this making that I do. First, there is the taking of the pictures, which is an endeavor unto itself. A daily thing, even, since Blip, where I have learned this: it's really nice if you took some pretty pictures yesterday or last week, but you are really only as good a photographer as the pictures you've taken TODAY. Now there's a humbling thought, and I am challenged by it daily. (I hope you are too!)

And then there is the making of the books themselves. Selecting the photos. Selecting more. Ending up with too many to fit. Winnowing down the photo set. Touching the photos up. Exporting them to a photo site. Selecting a book size and style. Doing the layout for each page. Putting the text to it all. Doing a final review, and pressing that "place order" button. And then the (impatient) wait until you get to see your brand new book for the first time.

Making things is a human endeavor. My personal philosophy is that in each day, there should be something that you HAVE to do and something that you WANT to do. Such goals give structure and meaning to our days. What shall we do today? Let's make some art! I'll go first . . . !

The song to accompany this posting is Rufus Wainwright, with The Maker Makes.

Bonus link: NYT article, David Bowie on his favorite artists.