• Image of Amaranthine Notebook - NEW (10 left)
  • Image of Amaranthine Notebook - NEW (10 left)
  • Image of Amaranthine Notebook - NEW (10 left)
  • Image of Amaranthine Notebook - NEW (10 left)
  • Image of Amaranthine Notebook - NEW (10 left)

70 page lightly lined notebook.
Matte cover, heavyweight paper stock with silver foil stamp on the back cover.
8.5 x 5.5 in. (21.5 x 14 cm)
Each notebook comes with a card stock bookmark with a bit of prose printed on it.

I currently have only 150 available, and do not know if I will be creating these again.

Amaranthine has a duplicitous meaning. It is both a shade of dark reddish purple and a word used to express the unfading, everlasting. I drew this design to be an endlessly repeating pattern, much like the growing and shedding of ourselves. I hope it can act as a reminder of that growth in the daily nooks of your life, where you keep track of your repeated lists, or journal your repeated heartaches, that the process of growth is eternal and we never actualize. But we do change.

Shipping:
Because I ship my prints in tubes, these journals will be shipped separately from any prints ordered. They are packaged in a stiff recycled cardboard mailer, and have a thin plastic wrapping around them to keep them pristine.

** INTERNATIONAL SHIPPING** PLEASE READ
Due to Bigcartel's algorithm, I cant edit the shipping based on the number of journals ordered. It will cost the same to ship two or three journals as it would to ship one-- but the algorithm will charge you for each book. I will reimburse the difference upon mailing the books out. However, prints and notebooks are shipped separately and have additional shipping (see above). I'm sorry for this inconvenience and am working on a better system.

Amaranthine (bookmark poem)

I wait in the quiet, turning patience over. An amaranthine spiral of time before me; after me, within me. Lurking in the petals of unfolding knowledge, i tirelessly write about.

Somewhere between substance and desire I weave myself into an incomplete ouroboros, searching for union with my far flung end; my edge.

Understanding is inedible, and besides, I crave bloodier things. Her sweet nectar leaves me in want, envious of the insects she satiates. Hungry for something profound.

This itch to shed and move freely becomes unbearable, and bramble provides the thorn to cut myself free. What I cannot digest my body still needs; a sharpness to sever the gossamer self and a leaf to rest beneath.

Craving runs deep and violence rules the natural order, but all the while I grow longer,

into the divine.