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6646 Hollywood Boulevard
Hollywood, CA, 90028
United States

(213) 223-6921

Stephanie Gibbs, a bookbinder in Los Angeles, CA, offers edition and fine binding, book conservation, custom boxes, and paper repair for contemporary and historic books, manuscripts, and documents to clients throughout California.

studio news

Filtering by Tag: poetry

interviews with myself

Stephanie Gibbs

Twenty Questions

3. Inside, outside, or upside down?

Arrived in a box, neatly labeled fragile this end up perishable open with care high value contents fully insured with delivery confirmation sent with return receipt by registered mail, inside a sleeping bag a house a cave, inside my own head surrounded by the cacophony of a chorus of advice and obligations and would rathers, inside the system, inside the loop, in bed, in the bath, inside the kitchen eating cooking cleaning organizing spices alphabetically by country of cuisine separating the inside of the fridge according to the food group system stymied by potatoes and sweetcorn which are technically vegetables but nutritionally starches but aren't they supposed to be kept in the crisper which is overflowing with as yet uneaten apples and somewhere there are milk and eggs and an awful lot of tonic water whereas inside the oven a certain amount of scrubbing is necessary to avoid setting off the smoke alarm again, and inside the basement surrounded by piles of laundry in various stages of purification while the monster in the furnace burbles just
outside the door and everything in life is a construction to avoid exposure to the outside of rain cold sunburn traffic expectations other people's reality excuses justifications timelines plots assignations responsibilities uncontrolled randomness verging on chaos outside leaves fall and water rises and potholes sink and boots crunch over gravel and leave prints in the first frost and the sun sets and aliens consider using the high school football field for a landing place which would really turn everything
upside down, the zero gravity free fall of space or vertigo or cliff diving or swimming or gymnastics with the uneven parallel bars or the trapeze or swinging along a rope and jumping into the river and somersaulting just under the surface as sun rays pierce through the water sending stripes of illumination to the depths whose orientation remains mysterious as the fish seem to be swimming in all directions and there are no arrows pointing to you are here but the natural buoyancy of the body meets the current of the river and though still upside down it is floating along the surface of the river with the sun on my back, thinking of picnics and trees.

glanced at the calendar and a week to meet deadlines, ouch

sun? maybe? please?

Fool, said my Muse to me, looke in thy heart, and write.

Stephanie Gibbs

Have you read the Futurist Manifesto?
It begins:
We have been up all night, my friends and I, beneath mosque lamps whose brass cupolas are bright as our souls, because like them they were illuminated by the internal glow of electric hearts. And trampling underfoot our native sloth on opulent Persian carpets, we have been discussing right up to the limits of logic and scrawling the paper with demented writing.


I, too, have been commanded to write a manifesto.
In many respects, such is the purpose of this blog. There is obviously far too much navel-gazing to be of much entertainment value to the general readership, since joy can often only be transferred in person, and rarely indeed does actual joy transmit through written language.

Off, off, off, dreary exhaustion!

weather a dark and stormy night