The day in the studio doesn’t always begin with a pencil… Often, before the first gesture, there is the slow turning of covers, the weight of a book pulled from the shelf. Certain titles stay close — not for their novelty, but for the way they hold a kind of steady presence. These are not books to rush through. They are returned to quietly, their surfaces familiar, their voices subtle. What follows is a brief glance into three such companions—books that sit near the drawing table, always within reach.
All-Time Favorites
Here, the three stand together—covers weathered, spines softened, pages feathered at the edges. They have been opened again and again, not out of habit, but because they continue to offer something just beneath the surface. These aren’t loud books. They don’t instruct. They linger. And somehow, each time they’re reopened, the eyes find something not seen before. They are companions, not references.
Pattern Design by Lewis F. Day
Some books hold the quiet rigor of craft. “Pattern Design” is one of them. Inside, a geometry of rhythm and form—motifs that repeat, evolve, dissolve. Not decorative, but deliberate. The page feels like architecture built in pencil and ink. In the short video, the flip-through reveals the restraint and complexity of each pattern, as if each one had been thought through slowly, then let go with care. A book that teaches through watching, not explaining.
The World of Ornament (Taschen)
This volume opens like a treasure trove. Each page bursts with detail—scrolls, gilded edges, flourishes that once lived in stone, on silk, in paint. Nothing here is understated. But amid the abundance, there is structure. There is lineage. “The World of Ornament” offers a way to travel visually—across centuries, various countries, materials, and methods. In motion, as the pages shift in the video, the eye moves from the smallest curl of gold to the boldest curve of marble.
Tissus Imprimés by William Wheeler
This book breathes in fabric. Every page carries the trace of a woven rhythm: floral repeats, delicate overlays, saturated grounds. “Tissus Imprimés” is tactile even in image—its patterns suggest weight and movement, as though the cloth itself were just out of frame. In the film, the paper rustles softly, and the motifs seem to fold and unfold, like memory returning in layers. It’s not just a study of print, but of feeling.
Which book pulls at your attention today? Open it. Let the pattern, the curve, the texture find you. More quiet glimpses from the studio coming soon—subscribe to follow the unfolding.