scraped
“Beautiful books. Made by you. Start tonight.” (on your computer)
Our Coralville scrapbook store and workshop is closing. Another closed, too. The independent scrapbook retail industry has suddenly collapsed. Just a few years ago there were over 5,000 stores nationally, now there are only a few hundred. This was once a paper converters dream, a two billion dollar a year side-stream. A bit of printing, cutting and packaging provided a huge markup and the retail outlets cultivated consumption of paper and product. Gone now.
Gone as well, perhaps, the practice of documenting family history on paper. No more. Photographs, typescripts, drawings and scrapbook arrays; they are all history. We are technically more advanced now. Eclipse of the remaining paper market away from independents to discount chains is an issue as well as a general migration to digital scrapbooking. It is estimated that half of domestic photography may be printed but in another sense 100% of it is not and may be consumed on screen.
ibw
Iowa Book Works, a local of the International Book Workers, has risen up again in the annals of codex destiny. This little workshop of book craft and digital printing is now participating in the new economy and busy every day. There is a mood of prosperity.
We make Ethiopian kits with Mahdar, perfect for Occupiers and other activists. There is also an adventure series on new book economies. These are sold on-line where we join a movement of epiphany bookmakers and book craft suppliers. Watch the video. In addition to Epiphany other long-time book kit makers that continue to prosper include Green Heron and Volcano. We are at Iowa Book Works.
the scene
The scene is set in an old Thompson Café. The floor is terrazzo and the wall behind the booths white tile. At one time you could look through the window lettering and see streetcars passing, but they are gone now. Regulars once smoked in the back booth and you can still see silhouettes in smoke tar where generations have leaned.
Small talk includes papyrus, paratext and the performative nature of the book but books seem so irrelevant here. There is a book arts center in an old warehouse somewhere in the city, in an old printing district. There is also a library but the mood is only an afternoon in the present. Everyone once lived in modern times, even in Antiquity.
The waitress leaves the check in a plastic wallet stood up-right on the counter. She passes later and notices that the wallet folder is lying down and she picks it up automatically. Without noticing the difference she has picked up a vinyl covered reading device of the young man at the counter and left the electronic menu/check device. Can the two communicate?
She returns to exchange devices and remarks; “I notice that you are reading the Frost book too.” “Yeah, it was assigned in my class.” as he looks up and notices how equivalent they seem. “Did you believe Quixote in the print shop? It sounded like a misunderstanding.” “Oh, I don’t know, it sounded plausible.” An older lady, further down the counter looked up from the meatloaf special. She began to watch the exchange itself.
Elizabeth Eisenstein discusses such moments in her new book; Divine Art, Infernal Machine; The Reception of Printing in the West from First Impressions to the Sense of an Ending. She illustrates that early in the history of book printing the proliferation had already produced “bewilderment and melancholy”, overload and scarcity. The advancing technology became something of an opposite of a determinant. Power agendas, theological positions and social ideologies were all conflicted and institutional strategies dissolved. Attitudes toward printers and the power of print were distinguished by extreme ambivalence.
(excerpt from a new IBW thriller)



