It’s more than a sheet of paper

By Ann St. Martin Stout
Leaves Are Free
I’m about to make some paper right here in my kitchen. I’ve done it before, both successfully and unsuccessfully. Making something out of nothing, useable art paper from junk mail, is something I’ve always been drawn to. Kind of like making twig furniture; twigs and branches free from the woods, some nails or screws and a bit of knowledge in simple construction. I have tried making twig furniture, a small table and an arbor, largely without success.

Paper making is flat, and that alone makes it simpler for me.

My torn strips of scrap paper are soaking in water and will be blended with more water in my retired kitchen blender. When the dishpan or plastic tote is half full of the blended matter and water, together called slurry, I’m ready for action.

Holding the deckle, an open frame, on top of the mould, a frame stretched with window screening, I’ll scoop up some of the slurry then, by moving the frames gently back and forth, the paper fibers align and settle while the water drains off. I tip the drained mould onto the smooth, absorbent couching clothes (pronounced coo-ching). Once pressed and dried, I can use my new, recycled paper.

If this interests you, many online tutorials can be found.

In early December, I signed up for a handmade paper swap, to be postmarked by January 15. As with many areas of my life, I tend to be a procrastinator. On my studio wall hangs a cartoon “I’m not a procrastinator. I just prefer to do my work in a deadline-induced panic.”

As I write this column, one week before the paper-swap mail-in date, thoughts of color, inclusions and project set-up are all going through my head. What inclusions will I add? Botanical elements can be flower petals, dry blades of grass, pine needles or seeds. Other items might include glitter, confetti or bits of thread.

Inclusions are mixed into the slurry or sprinkled on the very wet sheet directly after it has come off the mould.

I made my first paper 30 years ago with a piece of screening held in an embroidery hoop, but I now use a more conventional method. I get inspiration and information from the free newsletters sent by Paperslurry.com.

My interest in the various ways handmade paper can be used was sparked during a demonstration by and interview with Angie Follansbee-Hall some years ago at her Vermont studio. Paper in her artistic hands becomes much more than a flat plane, but a sculptural piece that tells a story.

Of course, the method I use is just a snapshot of commercial paper making in mills, some of which have sustained towns in New Hampshire and other places for many years. (Wisconsin has the most U.S. commercial paper mills.)

I enjoy the handmade paper process and the finished product is great for collage and notecards, but I don’t think I’d feel comfortable running it through my computer printer. The practicality of printer paper is necessary for day-to-day uses but handmade paper, with its texture and appeal, makes it special. When used in visual art, it becomes much more than merely a sheet of paper.