Saturday, June 11, 2011


.Little Boy Blue.




I mentioned in a previous post that I like to make books. I began making them about a year and a half ago and have made over a dozen since then. There are some really nice ways to bind them, and I always think that they look very personal.

Here's one of the first books that I made. It's bound using the 'concertina' method; this means that it can open out like a concertina when both the ribbons are untied. In these photos, only one ribbon has been untied, so it opens like a regular book. If both ribbons are untied, the pages can be stretched out, one after the other, making a sort of banner with a cover on each end.

The poem in the book is 'Little Boy Blue' by Eugene Field. It's a very sad poem. We have a lovely book at home called 'Favourite Poems We Learned at School', http://www.bookfinder.com/dir/i/Illustrated_Favourite_Poems_We_Learned_at_School/1856352412/ it's an book of poetry with poems in both Irish and English accompanied by beautiful old sepia-toned or black and white photos, mainly nostalgic-looking family photos of children playing or primary school class photos and things like that. The photos work really well in the book, giving it a great atmosphere. I didn't learn ALL of the poems at school, and my mother would've learned a lot more of them than I did.

Any
way, this poem, 'Little Boy Blue', is in it. It's sort of 'my mother's poem'. While at school I chose this poem for my drama exam. We had to recite it and then the examiner would ask us questions about it. The problem was - the examiner misinterpreted it. She thought that the Little Boy Blue written about in the poem was, in fact, a soldier who died at war. Well, she was wrong, which was unfortunate for me, as she thought that I was the one who had misinterpreted it. Oh well.
Often a poem is a metaphore for some other meaning - sometimes it's not. Sometimes a poem says exactly what it means - no metaphores, no similes, no enigmas or obscurities that require entire books to be written in an attempt to decipher their meaning. Some poems don't try to catch you out. This is one of them.

The images are little copper etchings that I have sewn onto - an old-fashioned, metal army-man figure, a battered, sad, old Christmas tree decoration that we have had forever, and also a Claddagh ring, given to me by my grandparents when I turned eighteen.

















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