Binder judges books by their covers

By: MARK M. REDFEARN - For The Californian | Wednesday, November 23, 2005 7:23 AM PST ∞

Bookbinding as an art form attracts fewer practitioners each year. According to the U.S. Department of Labor, the opportunities for hand bookbinders are limited because many binderies now use automated equipment.

But donít tell Edna Wright. She's still binding books the time-honored way: by hand.

"I work with leather, I work with cloth, I work with old, I work with new," she tells me as she ushers me into her compact but well furbished studio in Murrieta.

In one corner of the room, flames flicker in a tiny stove and the tang of wood smoke in the air provides a cheerful ambience on this chilly autumn morning. With a wry smile, Wright tells me that castoff book covers make good kindling.

Appropriately, Wright greets me with a handshake as she welcomes me to Wright Hand Bookbinding. She is dressed in blue jeans, a sweatshirt and hiking boots. She tells me the boots are essential because she stands or walks on the concrete floor of her studio all day. She points out the absence of shock-absorbing rubber mats on the floor.

"No mats. I trip over mats," she says with a self-deprecating laugh.

Wright, who says she has always been interested in words, fully intended to work as a calligrapher.

"I just never got to be any good," she said.

The only extant evidence of her flirtation with "beautiful words" is a piece of calligraphic art from long ago, hung on one wall of her studio. The letters spell out this bit of wisdom: "Do What You Can With What You Have Where You Are."

About a dozen years ago, hoping to improve her skills, Wright was scheduled to attend yet another conference for calligraphers when she found out about a bookbinding conference in Portland, Ore. On a whim, she cancelled her reservation for the calligraphy conference and went to Portland instead. Almost as an afterthought, she stuffed a ruler and an X-Acto knife in her bag. That conference was all it took to get her hooked on the venerable craft of bookbinding.

Wright started binding books after she returned home from the conference and toiled for four or five years to develop her skills. One of her first clients wanted a collection of U.S. Army insignia bound into book form. Once Wright completed the project, she felt confident she could make a living at bookbinding.

"I can do just about any job," she says. "I have magic fingers. Early on, I was aware of my limitations. I'm still aware of my limitations, but I don't have so many now."

There are two forms of the bookbinder's art that she doesnít attempt: gold tooling on leather and gilding the edges of pages. She says she has lost a few customers because she doesn't offer these services.

Most of her clients are "little old ladies" who find a battered, broken down Bible that belonged to mother or who want a favorite childhood book rebound.

"It's an honor to work on (their books)," Wright says.

Customers who entrust their books to Wright's talented hands can expect to see the finished product in about 14 days.

Wright calls herself a Medievalist because she's "more interested in the structure than the content." She wants people to be able to judge a book by the cover she creates for it. Who cares what's inside? It's the outside that counts. And some of the outsides of Wright's books are dazzling, done in shades of blue and maroon and burgundy.

"I consider myself creative," Wright says. "It's truly an honor to work on these books, and I treat them with great respect."

As we continue to chat, I discover that Wright is a former schoolteacher, having taught a special day class for a number of years. Retiring from teaching to take up life as an artisan is a journey that she wants to continue for the rest of her life.

"I don't see that I'll ever retire," she says. "I like the variety of tasks."

Indeed, the tasks are varied. To create a book from scratch, Wright cuts and trims pages to make what she calls "a block." Next, she punches holes in each section of the block so she can sew it all together. Then she affixes front and back endpapers in preparation for attaching the cover. "If I'm happy with it, I glue it together."

To accomplish these various tasks, Wright moves from one workstation in her studio to another.

"I would miss the movement," she says, when I ask if she ever thinks about laying down her bookbinder's tools.

As I let my gaze wander around the room, eyeing the tools of Wright's trade, I ask her age. After all, I think, a woman with so much wit and wisdom, so much dexterity and skill, should be recognized for her years of doing what she can with what she has where she is. With a wink and a wave of the hand she dismisses my impertinent question.

"That's a trade secret," she said.

Mark M. Redfearn writes about local artists for Preview. His column appears once a month.