There are a lot of ingredients that go into making a book about making ink. I will try to list them all, but forgive me if I’ve missed a step or two.
My first thanks has to be to my editor, creative director, and design guide, John Gall. Long before commissioning this book, Mr. Gall was a hero to me for his work as a book cover designer—in particular the butterfly specimen box covers for the Vladimir Nabokov series for Vintage Books. John miraculously recognized that there was a book in what I was up to in my studio and then guided me through this book with his light touch, intelligence, and patience.
My thanks go out to all of the Abrams staff who made this book possible, beautiful, spell-checked, and thoughtfully launched into the world, with a special thank you to Ashley Albert who helped me make sense without losing my voice, even into her Christmas holidays.
Next, the poet Mark Goldstein set me off on the right writing foot.
For the project with the New York Times, described in the introduction, I must thank Antonio DeLuca, Josephine Sedgewick, and the invaluable ethereal scouting advice of Krysti Keener.
Early on, Erika Oliveira talked me through recipes and books.
The novelist Heidi Sopinka and love of my life did some word magic to help my first writing connect feeling and sense. Already patient with my various adventures, she also put up with me through the making of the ink and the making of the book.
Then there was the Grey County ink artists residency sponsored by Clair Cameron.
First glance and ongoing support of the book came from my most trusted colleague, Angela Mullins.
My sort of secret creative director/influencer/gallerist Daniella Suppa gave me the most important advice of all, which was to enlist photographer Lauren Kolyn. Oh, Lauren. If this were an ink recipe, I would say Lauren was the water. Clear, beautiful, changing subtly with the weather, adept in both surface and depth: Lauren’s photography, eye, and thinking binds this book together. In many ways, this is a photography book with a bit of writing alongside it.
My children, Kes, Soren, and Winter, deserve acknowledgment for their patience with me; they are collectors and inkmakers in their own right.
The book includes the work of a few of my ink heroes (to whom I owe a huge debt) but invisible here is a whole range of artists, experimenters, and workshop participants that have helped me define and refine my ink recipes and ideas. Stephen Herder has been particularly influential in helping me understand the role that chemistry plays in natural color and steering me in the direction of crystals and color. Ooka of the Shadows has provided me with tools that can be described only as made of bamboo and copper coming from the dream world. Another material-meets-spiritual expert, Heidi Gustafson, opened me up to the numinous aspects of iron. Kelly Tivan has focused my attention on the miracles of mirrors, condensation, and tea saucers. Marta Abott continues to reimagine what can be done with ink. Katie Bruce for her eyes, beautiful bruises, and support. Thanks also go out to Lisa Markon for her turmeric deliveries. Nancy Jacobi at the Japanese Paper Place for her entrepreneurial spirit and paper genius, Cristina Kerr at the McMichael Gallery for her support, and Canada’s first indigenous printmaker, Anong Migwans Beams of Beams Paint, for her galactic inspiration. Michael Ondaatje for his ongoing interest and ear and guidance that just feels like friendship. The novelist Claudia Dey for setting up the card game.