Who knew combining Gregory Maguire and a shitty tattoo would result in something mildly cool.

So, you think this green movement is the best move society has made since outlawing murder? Think again, says Amy Stewart. In Wicked Plants, Stewart reveals that the leafy green world is filled with trecherous organisms have no interest in producing tasty salad fixins and nourishing oxygen. In fact, they’d like to see you dead. And not just weird Amazonian plants with long scientific names. There’s plants right outside your door that have it in for you.

I would have tightended up the boarder a little bit, but for the most part this cover does a good job presenting the reader with the elegantly deadly subject matter. Well done, nameless Algonquin designer.

I got a package in the mail the other day with some very pretty stamps on it.

I was already pretty excited about that, then I opened it up and saw a new photo zine thingy from Rose!

It’s all about discarded umbrellas. It made me think about all the shitty days that must have happened to all those people who gave up on their umbrellas like that.

Surely you didn’t think we were done with business cards after the Kluge. The Mama’s boys hooked me up with bookbinder extrodinaire Monica Holtsclaw of Boombox Bindery to do some gilding for us. How off the sicktor chain is this? Pretty off the sicktor chain. It blows my mind that someone is doing this type of thing in my town. Thanks Monica!

Penguin commissioned Ruben Toledo to draw up some covers for some of their classic snooze-fests in celebration of fashion week or some bullshit.

Penguin’s heart is in the right place, trying to spruce up some old dogs with fancy new covers, and the drawings aren’t bad, but good book covers these do not make.

It makes these books look like a Tim Burton picture book adaptation of the classic stories. If you’re going to get some new artists to gussy up some old novels how about doing it with a little bit of balls and/or ovaries?

How about Aurel Schmidt takes on Bukowski:

Or Dante by Neckface.

Or better yet, let Angela Boatwright tackle Emily Bronte.

There. All fixed.

I don’t know much about Stephen Berkman, except that his other-worldly images have the power to make you smile with inspiration and freak the hell out of you at the same time.

Most interesting is how he gathers heavily from the late 1800’s to create a vibe of surreal whimsey, particularly his use of old-timey ambrotype technology (positive image burned on to a sheet of glass, as opposed to daguerreotype, in which the image is exposed to polished silver). I couldn’t decide on which image I liked the best, so I just included all my favs. Here’s to a delightfully nightmarish weekend!

Bill Harris’s work is a little hit and miss, as well as a little scattered, but that’s the way it goes when you’re as prolific as he is. Nevertheless, when he’s on, he’s fucking ON. His portraits are seemingly mundane snapshots of everyday life, but it doesn’t take too long before you realize the weight of what’s happening in these scenes. You know a painting is good when the story starts telling itself in your head.

What do you think of when you think of the word scouring? I imagine myself on a horse drawn covered wagon with fifteen mustangs pulling me, galloping wildly, leather straps and buckles jostling and snapping and clanging, each horses eyes open frighteningly wide showing the little sliver of white, saliva ribboning from their mouths, my one hand on the reins, the other shielding the sun from my eyes, looking out across the desert landscape rapidly coming towards me then disappearing, wind thundering in my ears, hollering through a dry and cracked throat at the horses, “H-yaw! H-yaw!“, looking for someone. A fugitive, a doctor, a law man. Someone who holds my life and the lives of others in their hands.

I learned a couple years ago during a game of Scatagories that it really means “to rub hard especially with a rough material for cleansing.”

It also means “to suffer from diarrhea or dysentery” but that’s not really the point. I was scouring the internet this morning, in only one sense of the word, looking for a good book cover for this weeks BBCDW and basically getting a little depressed at the amount of bullshit out there. Then, in my darkest hour, this little diamond popped out of the rough.

Johannes Cabal the Necromancer turns the Faust legend on it’s ear as a man who’s sold his soul to learn the secrets of raising the dead now tries to win it back from the Devil by getting 100 people to commit their souls to be damned. Sounds like it might run the risk of either being some lame-ass genre bullshit or it could be really awesome.

The woodcut skeleton dude, the black and white with a splash of blood red, it all evokes a healthy dose of deliciously evil fun. Well done, nameless Double Day designer.

Dear friend and fashion guru Jen O’Malley unveiled a new bunch of headbands this week. Dunno of she’s selling them yet (UPDATE: She is!) but if you’ve got a special lady in your life this would make a pretty sweet gift. And if you are a special lady you might wanna get your hands on one before one shows up on the noggin of Bat for Lashes or Joanna Newsome and by then you’re behind the fashion curve. Which is undoubtedly a fate worse than death.

Love him or hate him, he was an interesting person:

SBTCV

Epicly Laterd

Tiny Vices

NY Magazine

Even though they failed to contact the expert on the subject, an interesting round-up/discussion/highlight on the subject of book cover designs over at The Rumpus pointed me in the direction of Julie Orringer’s collection

I like photos that tell stories. Ones that perfectly freeze a moment in time when things are about about to change. Or ones that at least capture a certain mood. Accomplish that and you’re a good photographer. Throw that photo on the cover of a book and you should win awards. Or at least a blog post.