news-record.com

SUMMERFIELD — Mastering paper takes concentration and a steady hand.

Bending, folding, rolling and pressing.

Paper either seems unyielding in its stiffness, or it wants to curl.

Muscle does not master paper. Patience masters it.

And those who do conquer it can shape it into beautiful, unique works of art.

Such as book covers.

Books and art are bound here in this small Summerfield studio. Words and phrases protected by soft leather and textured paper. Or cool pewter.

A handful of students travel here each week to learn from one of the country's best book binders, Monique Lallier. Her bindings have earned her international awards. Private book collectors seek her to create the perfect cover for their treasures. Some clients commission her to create special photo albums and keepsake boxes.

She shares the studio with her husband, master binder and conservationist, Don Etherington. They spend more time in this sunny studio than any other room in their home.

In this age of Kindle and other wireless reading devices, their love of books and their mastery of such skill might seem old-fashioned. The tools they use for their craft are centuries old.

But they aren't alone in their pursuit of such an art form. More people want to learn how to bind or create their own books. And for some, it's a desire to make the book itself -- not just its cover -- a work of art.

Masters of their work

When Lallier first started to learn bookbinding, a teacher told her it would be 10 years before she would be a confident bookbinder.

"I thought, 'I'm going to work very hard. I don't think it will take 10 years,' " she says. "But it probably took about 10 years."

Lallier loved books long before she ever thought about binding one. She was an only child whose favorite place was the family library. She preferred to read at home, while her parents visited friends or relatives.

"I wouldn't move all the time they were gone," she says.

The Montreal native was a high school teacher when she read about a local bookbinding studio. She visited the very next day. She smelled the leather, felt the old tools beneath her fingertips, and knew immediately it was what she wanted to do.

"From that day, I loved it," she says.

Lallier studied with masters in Montreal, Paris and Switzerland. Her fine bindings are in private collections and prestigious libraries throughout the country. She directed the American Academy of Bookbinding until last year, but still continues to teach courses there and elsewhere.

Founded in 1993, the academy in Telluride, Colo., offers degrees in bookbinding and book conservation. The academy's administrative director, Judy Kohin, describes Lallier's work as sophisticated, elegant and creative.

"She's really an artist," Kohin says. "It comes from her love of books, and the way she interprets the story in the book comes to the surface."

Lallier considers the book's topic when design binding.

"For me, the binding is the first thing the collector will see. When he opens the book, he needs to feel a certain harmony," she says.

Sometimes the unexpected -- such as babysitting her grandchildren -- triggers inspiration. She used their drawings of her for the cover of a children's book.

Etherington, whose career was focused on book conservation for the past 40 years, now has more time for design binding. Like Lallier, he says the book itself inspires him.

"The book talks to me," he says. "You first read the book. When you read the book, an idea comes to mind."

He's been surrounded by books most of his life. Etherington, who is from England, began training at age 13, when he could choose a craft to study. His first choice: bookbinding. He was one of six students chosen for the program.

"I wouldn't be able to tell you why, of a list of 100, I chose bookbinding," says the 74-year-old.

And like Lallier, he fell in love with it from the first day.

"I've been lucky to be doing something I really enjoy doing," he says.

Etherington's progression in bookbinding eventually led him to book and paper conservation. He's one of the country's best conservators, and was a consultant for the National Archives for its exhibition of the seven charters of freedom. His career is documented in a book to be published at the end of the month.

Etherington and Lallier met at a bookbinders conference in Finland more than 20 years ago. They have had joint exhibitions, and sometimes enter the same competitions. But because their design styles are different -- his traditional, hers more creative and modern -- they don't consider each other rivals. It also makes for a longer marriage, Etherington jokes.

They often work together in their home studio. They consult each other on occasion, but mostly, they work independently and silently. Their concentration and immersion in their work is so deep, they tune out everything except the periodic pleadings of Chapter, their black and white cat, to be let in or out.

Binders in training

Michael Greer shaves a swatch of leather with a small tool.

The painstakingly slow process is called paring. His goal is to make the leather thin and rose-petal smooth. The soft shavings of leather resembles a pile of milk chocolate. Once smoothed, he will use the swatch to bind Mark Twain's "The Innocents Abroad."

Greer travels from his home in Durham each week to Lallier's Summerfield studio. He studied bookbinding while teaching English in Morocco. Greer says it was fairly inexpensive to have books bound there, and that led to his learning the skill himself.

Lallier's Monday students are independent learners, pursuing their own projects. She advises or demonstrates when needed. Greer likens her to a track coach.

"We all do our own thing, and she comes around and helps," he says.

Now and then, Greer stops to observe his peers.

Suzie Ross, a Winston-Salem photographer, is completing a photo album, covered with paste paper she made herself. Once the album is complete, most people will note the beautiful cover and the black and white photos inside. But what Ross really takes pride in are the details that will likely go unnoticed by most. Like the way the pages are held together by a combination of sewing and gluing techniques, an extremely time-consuming process. But Ross enjoys the work, and the focus required. It makes her sad, sometimes, when she finishes a book.

"The process is almost as much fun as the final product," she says.

Anne Clark has commuted from Chapel Hill since 1999 to study with Lallier. She's making a keepsake box, which requires several pieces of thick binder's board made of hard, pressed pulp. Lallier's board shear -- similar to a giant paper cutter -- is so large and powerful, the floor vibrates each time Clark cuts a strip.

Although Clark teaches her own classes in the Triangle area, she says there's still much to learn from Lallier. And Lallier has more tools, Clark says with a smile. That collection includes a stamping machine and enough varieties of knives, rulers, hammers and scalpels to mistake this for a woodworker's studio. Lallier also has several presses including one that was almost donated to the New York Public Library. It's a behemoth metal structure that stands about 6-feet tall, and once belonged to Edith Deihl, an American bookbinder at the turn of the 20th century.

Kohin says more people want to make or buy handmade things. Just consider the popularity of Etsy, an online marketplace for crafters. Last year, the number of Etsy users swelled to about 3.75 million, according to The New York Times.

"I think there's a desire -- a love and desire -- to collect and to make things by hand," Kohin says.

The bindery

Within the bowels of UNCG's Jackson Library, there is a room that resembles an art studio.

Its officially named the preservation services room, but most call it "the bindery."

There are rolls of blue, gray and crimson book cloth, and stacks of thick binder's board. Large tables hold board cutters and jars of paste and paintbrushes.

Make no mistake, you're still in the library. Though they are in varying states of disrepair, there are books everywhere. And it's mostly library quiet.

Just the sounds of board being sliced on a large metal cutter and book cloth being cut.

Casie Leigh Lukes works here twice a week to learn more about bookbinding. Like Lallier, Lukes always loved books. That she could design her own books appealed to her.

"I can make it exactly the way that I want it to be, (down to) the font size and the kind of paper I want," Lukes says.

Last summer, she studied with a master book binder in Colorado, and she's taking a book arts class this semester. She's attempting to make her first portfolio -- which is similar to a folder -- to house a spiral bound set of music.

She studies her notes and diagrams, and tentatively cuts strips of board. Though it helps to be creative, binding also requires precise measurements. Millimeters matter.

"I need my left brain to work a little better," she says. "My measuring could be better."

Stefani Hobbick worked on the library's main floor while earning her art degree at UNCG. Then someone told her about the bindery.

"Oh man, what am I doing at the circulation desk when I can be in an art room?" she thought to herself.

After working a few years at Etherington's paper conservation company, Hobbick returned to Jackson Library. She recently received a book from the library's special collections, a worn Little Red Riding Hood paperback from the 1800s. Its faded pages were frayed in many places. Hobbick patches them with tiny pieces of thin heat-set tissue.

Most of UNCG's library books are repaired here. The workload is constant, says preservation services manager Audrey Sage: "There's always, always work to be done."

Sage, who also was an art major at UNCG, learned binding by simply doing it. She reigns over an island of misfit books. Books with pages filled with bright yellow highlighted passages. And books with pages just barely hanging onto overstretched spines, like a doll that's been dragged by its droopy arm for far too long.

It's up to Sage, Hobbick and their small crew of students to fix the books so that they can be returned upstairs, where they can be useful again.

Book evolution

Consider a book, not just for the words it holds, but for how it can be crafted as a work of art.

Kohin, of the American Academy of Bookbinding, says book arts is a growing field. Since the academy opened in 1993, more book arts programs are offered throughout the country.

"I think some artists come to book arts when they're exploring new media. There are artists who love books and love words," Kohin says.

UNCG's Jackson library has some art books in its special collections room. Some of the books are almost sculptural in their design, like a kid's pop up book. Some have few words printed on textured handmade paper. And some are stored in intricate, handmade boxes with embellishments. Etherington and Lallier also have a few art books in their home library. On her Web site, Lallier features an art book she made called "The Birthday Fan Book." It opens up, like a fan -- seven panels covered in red and green leather. The story, written in calligraphy on Japanese paper, can be read from both sides.

Lallier, whose favorite room at home was the library, was shocked to observe that few of the homes she visited when first moving to Greensboro had libraries. Then there's electronic readers such as Kindle, where downloaded books can be read on a screen. Instead of turning the crisp page of a new book, readers simply swipe their finger over the screen. But Kohin believes some bibliophiles appreciate the book in its traditional form even more, because of Kindle.

"With the introduction of things like Kindle, there's a huge section of our culture that feels a need to preserve these handmade things and preserve these books that are a part of our culture," Kohin says.

Lallier says she sometimes feels like going on a crusade to enlighten more people about book arts, binding and preservation. But she has a confession. She owns a Kindle. The avid reader travels frequently, and for weeks at a time. She can't pack a lot of books, because she must save room in her suitcase for book supplies and tools.

But she's not concerned that Kindle will force her retirement. There are still collectors out there who value their books, and want them bound, preserved or customized. Collectors might pay $1,200 to $5,000 for such work, especially if they are first editions.

"I am not afraid of Kindle," Lallier says with a smile.

Contact Tina Firesheets at 373-3498, or tina.firesheets@news-record.com