And so that’s that.
The end. By which I mean, of course, the beginning.
Cedar will be printed this September. Backers will receive their signed, numbered, and stamped first edition copies in late September, or else early October, as the temperature begins to slip. After that we’ll be thinking about which (independent) printed matter trading posts we’d like to distribute the edition through come autumn and winter.
In the meantime, we’ll be working on, among other things, preparing Laurent’s graphite pencil drawings for printing. This is an aspect of Cedar that we’re going to be especially meticulous about, because there is an astonishing amount of nuance in Laurent’s work. (See the detail from his pile of chopped wood.)
A priority this summer will be making absolutely sure that this nuance is preserved and sensitively reproduced within Cedar. We will therefore be working with an image preparation alchemist (of sorts) to ensure that Laurent’s work is readied for the page with fastidious care. What’s more, we’ll be printing Cedar on Munken Print Cream 1.8 115 g/m² paper (150 g/m² for the cover and endpapers); we like the thought of pairing Laurent’s woodpiles and megaliths with Munken Print’s fibrous texture and warmth.
Speaking of warmth:
Your support, dear backers—of Cedar, of quixotry—was so emphatically, well, supportive, that pledges have come to exceed our estimated prepress and printing house budget by a comfortable margin. “Comfortable margin” is, of course, an understatement; I am so pleasantly gobsmacked by these numbers, and deeply touched by the generosity behind the math. Rest assured that this money will not be squandered, or diverted down Gimmickry Way.
No! Anything in excess of Cedar’s budget is “packet of seed” money, by which I mean money for the next book, the next project. I do believe, with time, that pledges will end up giving root not only to Cedar Toothpick’s first edition this September, but to future editions of future publications. And so when I say “Thank you for your Cedar pledge,” I really mean: “Thank you for your Cedar pledge, and for supporting that which is to come.”
I’d like to end this post by noting that when I was a little boy I had small bookshelves; and that the storybooks I cherished the most tended to be scaled to the hand of a child: nutshell tomes by Maurice Sendak, for example, or the complete works of Beatrix Potter (that Dostoyevsky of woodland and pond-based societies).
My palm has expanded as I’ve grown older, and yet I find that I continue to have a predilection for small books. And so it is perhaps not so surprising that Cedar will indeed be a little book: 5 x 7 inches, or roughly 12 x 17 centimeters—just the right size, dear wayfarer, for slipping into a rucksack pocket, and carrying up into the world of crag and cairn.