This week has been another whirlwind! It's Sunday morning, and it's really the first good chance I've had to sit down with my laptop. It's been rainy and cloudy and foggy the last couple of days, so it's been a good time to think about color. The poem I'm setting (in type) for my book is set (temporally) in summer, so I want a really rich, ripe palette -- the text and cover papers will be various shades of cream, the text color will be a deep, dark brown, and for the additional colors throughout the book, I'm thinking about these teals, chartreuses, mustards, and fuschias. I hope it will look as nice upon the page as I imagine it will. My plan Friday was to accomplish two things: cut down my paper (which I did!), and mix my inks. If you have a lot of colors, mixing ink can take some time, and it's best to do it ahead of your first runs so that you can make sure everything is coordinating as you imagine. In typical fashion, I thought one hour would be enough time to settle on my colors and mix them up. Instead, I spent an entire hour poring through the Pantone book alone, staring at dozens of shades of each of the colors I had in mind. It's actually a really difficult process, for me at least, but also a pretty fantastic way to spend an hour. That meant that yesterday turned into my ink mixing day. I needed to work up five different colors, so I got good and ready with a bunch of palette knives, ink cans, and the handy color chart. This is the clean photo -- you should have seen what it looked like as the day went on. I should have taken another photo, but I would have sullied my phone with sticky, inky fingers. There's something about the sight of these cans that makes me so extremely giddy. They are cans full of color. Fully of prettiness. Full of possibility. It's so satisfying to slap some of this on a stone and then onto the press and to watch what feels like magic happen. Presses are such amazing machines. Everybody should have one! I want one! Honestly, I'd like several. Nevermind the fact that I have nowhere at all to put even a tabletop press, let alone the Vandercooks that we work on at school. But a girl can dream.