escaping graves.

lately, and mostly at night when all my other endeavors are abandoned, i have been reading a bunch of books that seem to pile up all around the bed. although 'the rapture of death' was an xxxmas present, i've just now really started to cradle it at night and peer down it's deep well. it has everything i truly love about a book as an object, it's palm size, the perfect tooth and satin finish of the paper, a black ribbon for marking my place and glorious fonts. this is all an aside from the terrific writing of it's author, prue gibson, who writes from a personal yet well informed perspective, uncovering our fears of and bizarre fascination with death and why we conjure it up in our art. as i'm one of these conjurers, i was intrigued to read her accounts and research. maybe you will be too.

xo