gifts for magazine-stackers, ephemera-hoarders, and other lovers of work in print

The ultimate in reading stands, by Bruno Mathsson.

Synonym, a magazine that tells immigrant stories through food.

To mark a place, Lucky Star Candle's burnable bookmark braid.

Brother in Elysium George Oppen broadside.

Fornasetti's Libri magazine rack, because of the key, the butterfly, and the tasseled bookmark.

COMBO, an annual magazine "conceived as an archive of our collective dreams."

Louie Issaman Jones' sculptural bookstand, designed to display spreads.

Word Making and Taking, the 19th century's favorite word game, via Haec City / Also Books.

Maggie Umber's Sound of Snow Falling, a visual diary of great horned owls.

"A piece of glass" by Derek Sullivan: "a publication to hang in a window, a bit of wonder when conditions permit" at Paul + Wendy Projects.

Archival boxes, for keeping rare pieces.

Sounds for Focus & Productivity, a zine by Sun-Rom and AURAGRAPH that comes with a risograph-printed poster for the wall and a flexidisc for the turntable.

The Brick Journal, "a collaborative publication devoted to the visual language, social and geologic histories, and cultural production that stem from and connect to brickmaking and brick work."

Alan Sobrino's epistolary novel sent by mail, via five handwritten letters imagining the sexy correspondence Valmont and M. Merteuil of Les Liaisons Dangereuses.

Alica Nauta's Reference Library Files, a book that documents looking for images at the Toronto Reference Library. 

Jewelry for books, by Fixed Air.

Bundle Theory, an essay by Romy Day Winkel published by OUTLINE on "collecting, or hoarding, as an aesthetic of patiences." 

Morgan Ritter's wearable poems, "curious tags [that] may be integrated into your life as plainly as the branded tags on the interior of your garments."

A wheely silver Hulken bag, for schlepping finds home from library sales and art book fairs. (I have this and love it so, so much.)

Not pictured: Gift certificates to a magazine/zine-focused store, like Chess Club  or The City Reader in Portland, Oregon, Periodicals in Detroit, Paper + Dirt in Pittsburgh, Hi Desert Times in Twentynine Palms, the Heath Newsstand in San Francisco, Tomo in Austin, Quimby or Inga in Chicago, and in New York City, Bungee Space, Casa, Head Hi, Iconic, Magazine Cafe, and Printed Matter. Alternatively, a subscription to Stack, Steven Watson's marvelous magazine subscription service, which delivers a different independent magazine from around the world each month.

Finally (though truly, this list could go on forever): Marcell Mars' manifesto:

In the 1990s, activist, independent scholar, and artist Marcell Mars founded Memory of the World / Public Library amidst the ruins of the former Yugoslavia, with the aim of resisting the privatization of knowledge and encouraging everyone to freely share books online.

B09k’s poster work is a re-enactment of Mars’s Public Library manifesto,

“When everyone is a librarian, the library is everywhere,” inviting everyone to participate and become part of the world’s memory.

* 

Okay, one more idea/shameless plug: magazines about sound and emotion, mushrooms (1 + 2), and cats, edited by yours truly.

gifts for wildly creative ten-year-old goofballs

For medievalists/miniaturists: a decorate-your-own castle blank, complete with inspiration, craft glue, and an assortment of craft paints and popsicle sticks (old egg cartons make especially good masonry). Add a working catapult kit for siege warfare re-enactments.

For painters: Akashiya watercolor brushes and a big ol' New SoHo SKETCH pad.

For creative writers: A fuzzy one-eyed creature journal, complete with padlock, for monstrously good drafts.

For sculptors: Wikki Stix (a magical melding of yarn and wax) to doodle in three dimensions.

For activists: The Pushcart War by Jean Merrill, which reveals (hilariously and metafictionally) words to live by —"don't be a truck"—and what it really takes to change the world.

For collectors: An earmarked ten-spot tucked inside a coin purse for treasure-seeking expeditions, jaunts to the candy shop, or bookstore adventures.

For recipe tinkerers: Extremely good cocoa, fluffy marshmallows, a whole can of real whipped cream, and Dutch chocolate sprinkles, for concocting the ultimate hot chocolate.

For composers: A pocket-sized Stylophone synthesizer for sonic noodling.

For the late-night button-pusher: A Snoopy Timex, complete with stopwatch and backlight.

For cuddlers: Fuzzy slippers with kitten ears in pink or brown.

For the hoarder of Jellycats: A Raindrop.

For all: Kiosk's "noisemaker from hell", because the holidays come but once a year (and because, despite its fearsome appearance, it only makes a subdued squeak, haha).

gifts for question-askers

A vintage cup for reading the tea leaves. (More here and here.)

A dictonary of symbols, for deciphering meanings, and a dreamlike Borges oracle by Catalina Kobelt for finding questions.

An obsidian mirror for peering into the dark.

Uusi's Supra deck for Jungian reflection.

An enamel "he loves me, he loves me not" spinning top pendant, for protecting unwary daisies from the lovelorn.

A fortune-telling pencil sourced from a mystical machine in Des Moines that will provide a yes, no, or maybe so answer. 

A Hades Wool sweater with the lyrics to Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now" for cloudy realities.

Pat Perry's risograph-printed open call for guidance for anyone seeking to be "part of a collective search for perspective in confusing times." 

A 32-sided 1930s-era fortune-telling dice for more answers than you can get from a Magic-8 Ball.

Hysteric Glamour's "You Pay" keychain to end arguments over picking up the tab.

And for finding a fortune worth keeping, a bucket of cookies, plus a frame for the best one.

*

I will add waaaaay down here, in an abashed moment of self-promotion, that I am the editor of a series of open-ended oracle decks written by Ellen Freeman and illustrated by Bethany van Rijswijk that are quite beautiful and interesting, if you happen to like mushrooms, flowers, seashells, fairy tales, rocks, cats, or space. Unlike tarot, these oracle decks do not offer traditional meanings, and they don't promise answers—instead, they are way to play with thoughts and ideas using imagery and scraps of myth, folklore, history, and science.

gifts of repair

A collection of vintage glass buttons, for holding things together with strength and delicacy.

Reclaimed Cashmere mending kit for saving sweaters, complete with darning mushroom, snips, and reclaimed yarns in colors of your choosing.

Cozy one-of-a-kind knits from the Waste Yarn Project, using fibers that would otherwise be thrown away.

A hand-painted teacup, with a stapled-together saucer.

Celia Pym's On Mending: Stories of Damage and Repair: 

"... [A] collection of ten stories of damaged garments–plus a rug and two backpacks–Celia mended in the last fifteen years. The stories record who the item belonged to, how it was damaged, how it was mended and where it is now. ... Not a ‘how-to’ book, this is rather an in-depth look into the damage that we do, as manifested by our outer layers, our clothes."

Old Mill Candles beeswax and mineral oil wood polish, for giving wooden objects new life.

The Speedy Stitcher sewing awl, for dealing with busted straps and bags (or Patagonia's Expedition Awl, for in-the-field repairs of tents, backpacks, or boots). 

Kelly Swanson x NOSO cyanotype-print stick-on patches, for quicker fixes.

Lineco Book Repair kit, for rescuing well-loved reads.

Professional help by hour, from expert mender Donna Lynch. 

10 trees planted for future generations, with a vintage postcard as a keepsake.

Nature's hand-carved locket, as a testament to love strong enough to bear a little damage.