My Dream Bookstore

Tags

amreading, art, author blog, bibliophile, book club, bookish, booklover, books, bookstore, bookworm, cafe, coffee, dog friendly, dream bookstore, independent bookstore, kanelbullar, local art, my book store, Paper Trail Books, rare books, used books, writing community

The collectible editions in Paper Trail Books in Royal Oak, MI

If I ran my own bookstore, it would be dog friendly. My brothers have joked that it will be an open invitation to disaster. “Oh sorry, some books smell like dog piss. They’re discounted.” I’m sticking to it, though. I like dogs. I’ll probably keep one of my own around, too.

My dream bookstore is very much… a dream. I’m in no position to start up that kind of business and I’m personally not ready to root myself to a place anyhow. This fantasy also excludes the fact that physical bookstores are fighting elevating rent prices and the popularity of online shopping. I’ve read in some articles that independent bookstores are doing better than the big chains, but who can say for sure. I’d like to believe they’re doing a comeback. Independent bookstores certainly have unique qualities that no big chain has, such as their connection to the community and the personality of the shopkeeper shining through the decorations and the organization (or lack thereof).

Say that money isn’t an issue and I let my imagination run wild for a moment.

I’ll carry mostly used books and there will be a selection of new releases as well. The focus in that area won’t cover all the genres under the sun, however, I’ll exclusively sell fantasy, sci fi, mythology, feminism, poetry, philosophy, metaphysics, supernatural and the like. As for used books, I’ll accept everything, except books about Trump. I will also sell rarities, signed copies, first editions and that sort of thing.

You’ll have a chill seating area and some chairs strewn about the store in case you need to rest your feet. Maybe there will be a piano and/or a table where you can play chess and other board games.

There will be coffee and cake, of course. Nothing crazy, because a cafe is its own business and I don’t want it to overrun the bookish side of things. I’ll have a bar area in the corner where you can get yourself a lovely espresso, hot chocolate, a cup of tea or whatever brew you need. I’d keep a ten-item selection of baked goods, which are rotated throughout the year. So for example, in the winter you have the option of Swedish gingerbread cookies and there will be strawberry shortcake in the summer. I will always serve kanelbullar (Swedish cinnamon rolls) throughout the year.

I’ll have plants, hopefully a lot natural sunlight and pictures of different writers (Sylvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe, Mary Shelley). I also plan to keep paintings and some other art pieces if they aren’t too cumbersome by local artists, all of which are up for sale. I’d love to give people the exposure and the chance to make some money.

There will be a pinboard near the entrance which may be used by everyone. Friendly notes, advertisement for local businesses, band gigs, looking for a roommate, have you seen this cat?, club meetings and so forth. As long as you check with me or whomever I leave in charge at the time, you can use the board.

Finally there will be readings, signings and book club meetings.

The only thing missing from this dream bookstore is a name. Can you think of anything?

Aimee Brasseur – Reading Photographs

Tags

Aimee Brasseur, art, Central Michigan University, composite photography, deciphering an image, depression, long-distance relationship, Park Library, Self Reflected exhibition, the blanket, tiny little hope machine, to get to the other side

 

“self reflected”

As I’ve mentioned earlier this month, when my   friend Michael and I visited the art exhibit in      the Baber room at the Park Library, I got  intrigued by the pictures Aimee Brasseur had  taken. (Brasseur… what a great name!) Right then I decided to blog about some  of them in the near future. I wouldn’t mind  talking about all of them, but that’s a discussion  more appropriate over coffee (or a glass of wine,  either works). This is the first time I’ve heard of  composite photography: “combining several  distinct photographs either made one over  another on the same plate or made on one print  from a number of negatives” (Google).

In the third paragraph on this board, Brasseur   says, “Two-parts storytelling, one part  catharsis, each image is an allegorical representation of a page in my personal history – my self-authored mythology. In short, these are stories from my life, retold the way I choose to remember them. But most interesting to me are the interpretations presented by each viewer who, without necessarily being cognizant of it, uses her or his own experiences to decipher the symbols hidden within. As a result, the work ceases to be about me as these interpretations allow each image to breathe a life independent of the original story.

See, I didn’t even read that the first time I was the exhibit. It’s so cool that when you create something, it means something specifically to you and the origin of that art piece is the reason it exists. Then when others get a good look at it, the art attains an entirely new meaning, or at least to the viewer. One of my beta readers for instances has compared my novel to Angels and Demons by Dan Brown, which is a huge (and pleasing) surprise to me, because I have not thought of or even remotely sought influence from that book. Maybe I have, subconsciously… who can say.

Anyhow, to the pictures: I’ve chosen “tiny little hope machine,” “the blanket” and “to get to the other side.” Sorry in advance for the mediocre quality of *my* pictures.

“tiny little hope machine” by Aimee Brasseur

Gosh, this is amazing! So here’s Brasseur as a sewing mannequin, opening a little door in her chest and letting a small bird out of her body. Do I want to go for the obvious answer? It could signify personal freedom, but to what extent? It could mean she’s opening herself up little by little, or taking baby steps out of her comfort zone. She wants to break out of a frame that many young women are trapped into – labor in the household, having a specific body type – which I’m getting from the mannequin. Is it finding inner beauty as well?

I gotta say, that’s something I’d hang in my living room. I also like birds a lot (all animals really) so that’s an additional reason for me to like the photo.

“the blanket” by Aimee Brasseur

This is the picture I reviewed on the spot in front of Michael. I watched it for two seconds and saw DEPRESSION staring me right in the face. Just look: Brasseur is wearing the blanket like a dress – or a toga, not sure – and the image of her is broken and fragmented. Then there’s the title: “the blanket.” To me, it looks as though she is living her life in that blanket – i.e. staying in bed all day – trying to keep herself together, but she can’t. She’s falling apart and the blanket can’t save her.

Perhaps that’s morbid, but that’s what I read. What do you think?

“to get to the other side” by Aimee Brasseur

I hope I don’t have to spend a lot of time explaining this one, because I relate to it too much. It could mean dealing with grief – the inability to talk with someone close to you – or it could mean unresolved issues in a relationship, which I want to go with. Well, that’s what I see the most when I look at it. I won’t go into detail, but there’s been periods in my life when I’ve been sitting at the same table with a particular person and even though we were there – breathing the same air, looking each other in the eye – we had trouble getting over our communication barriers. Sometimes it was as though those walls we had built between us grew opaque during those quiet conversations, and we just knew it would take a lot more than apologies before we could be friends again.

On that note, I’m going to take my leave. Good evening.

How to Be Creative…?

Tags

Aimee Brasseur, analyzing art, art, Central Michigan University, Elizabeth Gilbert, music, photography, Self Reflected exhibition, Sherlock Holmes quote, TED Talks, writing

Earlier today I went to an art exhibit called “Self-Reflected” with my friend Michael. If you go to the Baber Room in the Park Library here at CMU, there’s this collection of really amazing photographs by Aimee Brasseur. Every picture is of her in different scenes depicting an emotion, memory or side of herself, which are some of the best self-portraits I’ve seen in a while. (Seriously, if you’re in Mount Pleasant anytime now till March 6, I recommend stopping by, because they’re beautiful and thought-provoking pictures.) Anyway, I started analyzing one of the photographs we were looking at, and by the time I was done telling Michael what I thought the picture meant, he just shrugged and said he guessed I was right.

According to him, he wasn’t good at analyzing art even though he’d taken an art class once. Michael then went on to say that he’s better at understanding the meaning behinds songs since he writes music in his spare time. Then he said something I find rather fascinating: He’s heard there are musicians who are better at analyzing songs, but they’re not good at coming up with artistic ideas for their album covers. Additionally there are artists, like painters and photographers, who on the other hand are “happy listening to songs as they are” without understanding what the lyrics are saying. It’s audio versus imagery. I know that people learn through different methods – by listening, seeing, writing, or doing, et cetera – but it has never really occurred to me that artistic people differentiate in the way they comprehend art.

That seems ridiculous to me now, considering that my friend Shayla who’s a graphic design major, has told me on several occasions she wished she could write. On the contrary, there have are times I’m jealous of her “scribbles” which look like tiny but cool art pieces you could display to the public. Then again, I personally find it equally easy to analyze pictures, stories, songs and poems. So I think the point I’m trying to make is that it’s mind-boggling how talent and creativity aren’t the same thing as the ability to interpret art, or literature and poetry for that matter. That’s something I’ve kind of known in the back of my mind; for instance, some of my beta readers (those reading my novel drafts) are mostly people who don’t write and they don’t always give me the in-depth critique I crave. Nonetheless, it’s interesting seeing it show in people who are creative and talented.

In addition to this little epiphany of mine, this week I’ve thought back to some TED Talks I saw a few years ago that talked about creativity and imagination. A lot of times when you talk about art, writing, about creating anything, fear is always present. It’s like a gnome that waltzes into the room, settles down somewhere and spits paper balls on your head. I want to leave you guys with this video showing Elizabeth Gilbert talking about the muse.

I think I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again: The muse is rare. No, actually… it’s a lie. A God-damn lie. Gilbert argues there’s something to it, though, and I like how she tells her theory.

Elizabeth Gilbert muses on the impossible things we expect from artists and geniuses — and shares the radical idea that, instead of the rare person “being” a genius, all of us “have” a genius. It’s a funny, personal and surprisingly moving talk.