Book Arts

Spaces to Receive continues the exploration of the ordinary spaces of a day and the connection to water as a space of transformation since time immemorial.

The push of discomfort, the pull of hope

We move in the ordinary spaces of the days

Warm water gently awakens

Skimming across the surface the cool salt water tingles

The inviting pull of the incoming tide

The wonder of her reach across

time and place

Her dark depths of mystery, the unknown, and time

We are received like those since time immemorial

Together

invited

in wonder

connection

in spaces to receive transformation

Coptic stitch; unique water colors; BFK; 80 pages; 6 x 5.5 x 1.25 inches; varied edition of 3

©Debbi Commodore 2024

A part of the “Other, Object, Me” series from Split Fountain, I Can Not See Myself reflects on seeing and humanizing the ‘other’. Asking—How limited is our vision? Do you see the object or the other? Are you able to see the other as you see yourself?

Prints on Kozo paper, photos used with permission from the Collins Memorial Library, University of Puget Sound, one-of-a-kind, 2023.

Photographs by: Debbi Commodore

©Debbi Commodore 2023

Everyone has a few, sometimes we let one slip. If you choose to reveal a secret could a flower help you spill the beans?

Are flowers more than their beauty? Can they convey a message secrecy? The unassuming bouquet of the white rose, snapdragon, foxglove, lavender, mock orange, maidenhair fern, and geranium symbolize the elements of secrecy—deceit, deception, and distrust. And to some, are more than just another flower in the vase.

Flowers have been used as a symbolic means of communication for thousands of years and expands across history, country and culture. During the 19th century interest soured in Victorian England and the United States. But what is it that we are trying to say, and why do we use flowers to try to say it? The intricate system of floral symbolism, florigraphy, in which each flower is assigned a specific meaning was inspired by the Turkish custom of sélam. As Mary Wortley Montague, wife of the British ambassador in Constantinople (18th century) said, “There is no flower without a verse belonging to it; and it is possible to quarrel, reproach, or send letters of passion, friendship, or civility, or even of news without even inking your fingers.”

Square flexagon structure; relief print, BFK Rives; 2023; Edition of 11; 6 x .25 x 6 inches (height/width/length)

White rose (carrier of secrets); Snapdragon (deception); Foxglove (deception); Lavender-(distrust); Mock orange-(deceit); Maidenhair fern-(secrecy); Geranium-deceit

Photographs by: Debbi Commodore

©Debbi Commodore 2023

Along with six other artists “Meeting the Alchemist” was created. We combined our unique backgrounds, experiences, and talents with our passion for words, images, and curiosity. “Meeting the Alchemist” was inspired by our exploration of creating mono prints which have been used in this varied edition of 8. Using a few agreed upon elements each artist created one book and contributed to the one shared version. The lessons learned in the story represent the real life experience of the seven of us working together. Just like the spirits of this story evolved so did each of us.

Single sheet maze structure on BFK Rives, assortment of mono prints layered with a beads, and woven paper; hard cover with book cloth and beads.

Varied edition of 8

8 x 6 x 2.5 inches, 48 inches when stretched out, 30 pages

Created in 2023

Photograph by Debbi Commodore

©Debbi Commodore 2023

Beginning pre-pandemic, this piece continues exploring the ordinary spaces of my days and the connection to water as a space of transformation. I designed the work to push the traditional book form and to use the movement of the structure as a symbol of a year. Each time the book is arranged it is uniquely sculpted with hills and valleys representing life’s joys and disappointments and mountains and curves representing life’s grief and celebrations. With the realities of 2020 the piece evolved to hold the views and reactions of Americans to the pandemic in the signatures (Pew Research March 2021 survey).

Structure/Medium/Materials: Coptic stitch structure with 366 signatures; assorted one-of-a-kind paste papers, Kozo paper, assorted paper and expired work journal pages

Created in 2022; one of a kind

2 x 2 x 39 inches; 4,392 pages

Photographs by: Rachel Watson

©Debbi Commodore 2022

In the second year of the pandemic my day has new rhythms and routines. In THIS, two anchors move together, intersect, and frequently live in tension—my calendar, with its beauty and practical function, and the morning newspaper with its headlines of pandemic life. The predictability of the calendar and the unpredictable daily headlines weave a repeating rhythm—up and down, down and up through my days of 2021.

This

Second year

Is it different?

Unimaginable loss

Calendar pages turn

Months blend

Days blur

Heavy headlines

Followed by heavier headlines

A foggy, dull, numbness

is this a real thing?

Calendar pages turn

Their shots

My shots

Devastating loss

This year.

Dragon fold book structure (aka “Burst” fold); 2021 calendar (Nikki McClure); 2022; one-of-a-kind; 3 x 3 x 3 inches; 48 pages

Photographs by: Rachel Watson

©Debbi Commodore 2022

The push of discomfort, the pull of hope

I move in the ordinary spaces of my days

Warm water on my face gently awakens me

Gentle mist tickles my skin as I rush out the door

Puddle ripples mark where I have been

Cool water from the glass provokes my finger tips

Still water of the slack tide reflects an image of a stranger

Hot water unsettles me as I wash up after a meal

Droplets of rain race down the window distracting my gaze

Hot steam from the kettle dances and sings beckoning me back

In the ordinary spaces of my days

The water receives me

Might these be a baptism?

Might these be my spaces to receive transformation?

Artist designed paste paper covering a unique coptic bound book with 12 signatures of woven pages from an expired work journal providing the space to house 24 pastel interpretations of water.

9 x 8.75 x 1 inches

©Debbi Commodore 2020

Photograph by Ross Maulhausen

The push of discomfort, the pull of hope

I move in the ordinary spaces of my days

Warm water on my face gently awakens me

Gentle mist tickles my skin as I rush out the door

Puddle ripples mark where I have been

Cool water from the glass provokes my finger tips

Still water of the slack tide reflects an image of a stranger

Hot water unsettles me as I wash up after a meal

Droplets of rain race down the window distracting my gaze

Hot steam from the kettle dances and sings beckoning me back

In the ordinary spaces of my days

The water receives me

Might these be a baptism?

Might these be my spaces to receive transformation?

Flag book structure with woven pages from an expired work journal and artist designed paste paper.

Photographs by: Debbi Commodore

©Debbi Commodore 2020

Revealing Invisible Patterns: A Binding Sampler

Stitching is visible and invisible revealing of pattern. Visibly the pattern of stitches bind the section to the cover. Quiet stitches made over the course of time hold memory of daily hopes, despairs, joys and pains until one is ready to look back and hear what they have to reveal. Rilke’s lines capture the invisible patterns in stitching:

In the traffic of our days

may we attend to each thing

so that patterns are revealed

amidst the offerings of chance.

All things want to be heard,

so let us listen to what they say.

In the end we will hear what we are:

The orchard or the road leading past.

A collection of samples from 1-2-&3-Section Sewings from Non-adhesive binding volume II (Keith Smith), 59 non-adhesive binding structures, sheets from The New York Review of Books, January 1971-January 1972, 7.25 x 6.25 x 6.25 inches, one of a kind

©Debbi Commodore 2019

Photograph by Ross Maulhausen

At what points in a year will Kairos, moments or opportune times, be revealed? What if the chronological year was shaped like a book that had not been yet been written? And what if this book pushed the traditional book form and included markers where Kairos were sculpted along-side the hills and valleys representing life’s joys and disappointments—mountains and curves of grief and celebrations—what shape would the year take? Would it have many small gentle bends or overlap weaving over itself forming and opening itself to what might come?

Coptic stitch structure with 365 signatures; assorted one-of-a-kind paste papers, 2.5 x 2 x 39 inches, 365 signatures; one of a kind

©Debbi Commodore 2018

Photographs by Ross Mulhausen

This book was inspired from tussie mussie bouquets and draws from the language of flowers. This bouquet consists of dahlias and yellow roses.

Flowers have been used as a symbolic means of communication for thousands of years and expands across history, country and culture. During the 19th century interest soured in Victorian England and the United States. But what is it that we are trying to say, and why do we use flowers to try to say it? The intricate system of floral symbolism, florigraphy, in which each flower is assigned a specific meaning was inspired by the Turkish custom of sélam. As Mary Wortley Montague, wife of the British ambassador in Constantinople (18th century) said, “There is no flower without a verse belonging to it; and it is possible to quarrel, reproach, or send letters of passion, friendship, or civility, or even of news without even inking your fingers.”

Reproduction of tinted paper cut, 8 x 8 x .5 inches, limited edition

©Debbi Commodore 2018

Photograph by Debbi Commodore

Washington state is home to 29 tribes. Indigenous people have experienced a culturally rich and tragic history. Their influence on this area is not just found in the history books it can be found in our place names, current conservation efforts, leadership, state culture and the arts.

Modified accordion, image from University of Washington Library Digital Collection; Texts from Shinn’s History of the American People (1893) and Washington Indian Tribes Today (Seattle Times 2016)

5.25 x 8 x 1.5 inches, (one of a kind)

©Debbi Commodore 2017

Photograph by Ross Maulhausen

What will be revealed in a year? What if the year was shaped like a book that had not been yet been written? And what if this book pushed the traditional book form and could be sculpted with the hills and valleys representing life’s joys and disappointments—mountains and curves of grief and celebrations—what shape would the year take? Would it have many small gentle bends or overlap weaving over itself forming and opening itself to what might come?

Coptic stitch structure with 365 signatures; assorted papers and watch parts.

 2.25 x 2.25 x 37 inches, 365 signatures (one of a kind)

©Debbi Commodore 2016

Photograph by Chris Tumbusch.

Make visible what

without you,

might

perhaps

never

have

been

seen.

 ~~Robert Bresson

Eight unique paper cuts accompany the quote from Robert Bresson in a unique accordion fold structure.

5 x 5 x 1 inch (12 inch diameter when formed into a circle); 9 pages; one of a kind

© Debbi Commodore 2016

Photograph by Chris Tumbusch.

This piece is inspired by the mark in time each winter—the cold, dark, dormant days when the seed catalogs arrive bringing promise this season will pass and a new one will soon begin filled with hope of abundance. Her dog-eared pages mark a place in time where we dream of what is possible and escape the realities of inexperience, uncertainty, failure and disappointment.

We move between remembering past harvests and dreaming. We make our lists, plans, and schedules; we begin to look forward—she teases us with what will be given, celebrating before there is a bounty. Drawn to her lush images, poetic descriptions, and yield promises we ready ourselves, counting the days, waiting. We become like the seed germinating in the soil. The neatly planted rows become overgrown; the simple seed catalog has given permission to dream and perhaps reflect beyond the harvest.

Materials: seed catalogs

Dragon-fold structure

12 books housed in a 8 x 10 x .75 box; books open to 20 inches (one-of-a-kind)

© Debbi Commodore 2015

This piece is a part of a on-going series exploring the urban city. 

Working within the context of my own neighborhood, with all of our differences, I honored our connection.  I am inspired by how this little city neighborhood block of ours with our collection of varying sizes, shapes, colors, styles and beliefs fills such a basic need we all have and adds deep value to the quality of life. 

Linocut relief print

Flag book strucuture

4.5 x 4.5 x .75 inches (opens to 13 inches), 5 pages (one-of-a-kind)

© Debbi Commodore 2014

The most solid and important things in our lives are ever-changing, either very slowly or quickly.  Hope explores the rhythm and pattern of everyday life with the ups and downs of complex uncertainties.  Intertwined in the hills and valleys of our journey is anticipation, faith, desire—hope.  With its fragility, power and promise hope has the ability to beckon us, moving us further along in our journey.

Accordion flutter book

4.25 x 2.5 x .75 inches (one-of-a-kind)

© Debbi Commodore 2013

1948-Fall uniquely chronicles my grandparent’s lives for three months through their counter checks (bank checks and their bank statement).  Counter checks were a commonplace at the stores much the way the credit/debt processing machine is now found at the register.

This book gives pause for reflection to a simpler time without usernames and passwords as the viewer notices the absence of an account number on the check; the checks were processed on recognition of signature alone.

Counter checks with walnut covers

Signatures sewn on tapes

3.5 x 4.75 inches (one-of-a-kind)

© Debbi Commodore 2012