Artist’s Book
9 × 11 in · 64 pp · 4 color plates · 2026
$200 USD
Edition of 20 + 2 AP
MATERIALS
Text pages: IJ Asuka 48g Pure White
Color plates: Niyodo Kozo 25g Natural
End papers: Fabriano Tiziano 160g
Cover: Green Millboard
Cover image: Giclée on Hahnemühle Photo Rag
Printed, engraved, and bound by hand, one at a time, in the Hudson Valley
Weeping European Beech Baby Sleep Tonic is a lyrical memoir set in Green-Wood Cemetery, a historic landmark and arboretum that became an unlikely refuge while raising a baby in a cramped city apartment. What began as desperate visits for greenery, fresh air, and quiet places to nurse evolved into a ritual practice of observation and gathering: photographing the cemetery's atmosphere, specifically the histrionic weeping trees and whimsical stone carvings and engravings, and collecting synthetic memorial flowers that had been fragmented and frayed by maintenance equipment and time.
Detached color plates of collaged petals are tucked into the folds throughout the book, barely discernible through the photographic images printed on thin, transparent pages. I realize they may go unnoticed, but when found, they might mimic the delight of stumbling upon an object holding a patina of entropy, grief, and sunshine.
Artist’s Book
9 × 11 in · 64 pp · 4 color plates · 2026
$200 USD
Edition of 20 + 2 AP
MATERIALS
Text pages: IJ Asuka 48g Pure White
Color plates: Niyodo Kozo 25g Natural
End papers: Fabriano Tiziano 160g
Cover: Green Millboard
Cover image: Giclée on Hahnemühle Photo Rag
Printed, engraved, and bound by hand, one at a time, in the Hudson Valley
Weeping European Beech Baby Sleep Tonic is a lyrical memoir set in Green-Wood Cemetery, a historic landmark and arboretum that became an unlikely refuge while raising a baby in a cramped city apartment. What began as desperate visits for greenery, fresh air, and quiet places to nurse evolved into a ritual practice of observation and gathering: photographing the cemetery's atmosphere, specifically the histrionic weeping trees and whimsical stone carvings and engravings, and collecting synthetic memorial flowers that had been fragmented and frayed by maintenance equipment and time.
Detached color plates of collaged petals are tucked into the folds throughout the book, barely discernible through the photographic images printed on thin, transparent pages. I realize they may go unnoticed, but when found, they might mimic the delight of stumbling upon an object holding a patina of entropy, grief, and sunshine.