I Made It With My Own Two Hands

I found a book in my mum’s house which is the single most important discovery of, possibly, my life. I know I say that about a lot of things, but this time it’s not just an instant ecstatic reaction, it’s the genuine knowledge that this book has changed something, that it has influenced how I want to live my life. I know, I know - cut the cheese. Let me show you:

The copy I found is beautifully worn, and in a language I can’t identify (Michelle, whose mother is from Belgium says it looks a little like flemish). It was shot/compiled by Art Boericke and Barry Shapiro. I found a review on Amazon written by the user ‘Quickhappy’ which I must copy and paste:

“There is something warm and peaceful about this book. It is a transporter, ready to take you back to Northern California or Oregon of the 1970s. It is folk art and naked children—a time before Martha Stewart. It is an architecture of freedom and spontaneity, earthiness, and autonomy. Here people have put together woody structures of the mind and captured in form the feeling that I remember so well from my Northern California childhood in the 70s.”

I must do this. I want to wake up in the first picture, and reject convenience. Another reviewer just says: ‘Buy it, seriously.”