The Books (in alphabetical order)
32 unbound pages in a crafted wooden box. 14 lithographs. Poems by Tita Reut in letterpress. 49 x 33,5 cm. Ed. 60.
84 unbound pages in a slipcase designed by the artist. 17 prints in woodcut, carborundum etching, lithography and collage. 33,5 x 25 cm. Ed. 9.
Co-published with Th.TY. 40 bound pages in slipcase. Text by Susan Howe in letterpress (French translation by Bernard Rival). 2 diptychs and book cover in woodcut by Stéphane Bordarier. 26,5 x 25,5 cm. Ed. 50.
The Liberties is a working-class district of Dublin where Susan Howe walked with her mother as a child. She returned to that memory in The Liberties, an experimental poetic sequence that uses fragmented narrative and collage to explore historical memory and the place of women within it. The second of its 3 sections, God’s Spies, centers on Esther Johnson (Jonathan Swift’s friend and pupil, known as Stella) and Cordelia, the youngest daughter of King Lear.
For this new French edition, co-published with Bernard Rival and Bénédicte Vilgrain of Théâtre Typographique, Howe’s final, “abstract” poems were isolated and given greater typographic space. The French translation was printed in letterpress, while a sequence of woodcuts by Stéphane Bordarier took the place of God’s Spies—the “missing pages” of the title—and extended the original book’s movement from representation toward abstraction. Bordarier used his characteristic violet de Mars on the cover.
18 bound pages. 2 fold-out woodcuts. Cover and text by the artist in lithography. 18,5 x 17,5 cm. Ed. 25.
Bordarier Deux is an 18-page bound book containing 2 fold-out woodcuts and a brief lithographed text by the artist. Throughout his work, Bordarier has used an economy of form to investigate how color can occupy and structure a surface. In these woodcuts, he reinterprets 2 quadriptych paintings held in the collection of the Musée Fabre in Montpellier. As the images are unfolded, the painted compositions are reconstituted within the sequence of the book. A blank page separates them, functioning like the wall between 2 works in a gallery.
5) Vicky Colombet — Book of Hours, 2026 [in progress]
28 unbound pages in box. 13 lithographs by Vicky Colombet. Text in letterpress by Deborah Elliott Deutschman. XXxXX. Ed. 30.
Since 2022, Vicky Colombet has been developing Book of Hours with the atelier in collaboration with the writer Deborah Elliott Deutschman. The book grows out of a larger body of work begun by Colombet in 2008, encompassing paintings, drawings, and works on glass.
Its point of departure is Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, the celebrated 15th-century illuminated manuscript. Books of hours were devotional works organized around the prayers appointed for the canonical hours, bringing the daily cycle of religious observance into the lives of lay readers. Les Très Riches Heures is especially renowned for its calendar pages, in which seasonal activities—sowing, harvesting, hunting, and feasting—unfold within precisely observed landscapes and before the Duke of Berry’s châteaux.
Rather than illustrating the medieval manuscript directly, Colombet translates its organization of time and landscape into a contemporary form. Using Google Earth, she studies the locations depicted in its calendar pages and transforms them into cartographic drawings.
10 spiral-bound pages in lithography on clear plastic in slipcase. 33×48 cm. Ed. 25.
This is a purely visual artist’s book: apart from the title and colophon on the slipcase, it contains no text. Its meaning develops through the superimposition of images. The book contains 7 animal images, printed in warm gray lithography on transparent plastic sheets, held together by a spiral binding. The sequence begins with a small vegetable chopper. With each page turned, another animal is laid over those already visible, transforming the composite image and gradually filling the entire field.
The spiral binding allows the sequence to be recomposed in either direction. Earlier images remain visible through the later ones, but their forms are progressively altered by each new layer. The book thus makes Corpet’s painting process physically legible: information is accumulated through superimposition, with every addition changing the appearance of what came before.
Set of 16 lithographs in canvas portfolio with title page and colophon. 35×25 cm. Ed. 10.
An Austrian artist of extraordinary graphic instinct—by the age of 16, he had already made 150 woodcuts—Gunter Damisch led the graphic arts department at the Academy of Fine Arts Vienna for nearly two decades, until his untimely death in 2016.
16 Steingedichte was Damisch’s first lithographic series and one of the atelier’s most important early collaborations. Our collaboration began in the early 1990s, and the series was developed over several visits to Paris. Its 16 compositions belong to the pictorial cosmos Damisch developed throughout his work: a world populated by organic beings, crystalline formations, and cellular structures, moving continually between the scale of the microcosm and that of the universe. Each composition was drawn and printed from a separate small stone, primarily in black; some included additional color layers, also drawn directly on stone. Each lithograph was printed in an edition of 21, with 10 complete sets bringing all 16 plates together in a clothbound portfolio.
44 bound pages in a slipcase. 15 color plates and 12 monochromatic plates in lithography. Texts by Pliny the Elder and Marc Desgrandchamps in letterpress. 38x28 cm. Ed. 50 (first 25 in French version, the rest in English).
Desgrandchamps began working at the atelier in 2002. After more than a decade of collaboration, Fragments became both his first artist’s book and his first sustained exploration of color through stone lithography.
Begun in 2013 and published in 2015, Fragments takes its point of departure from Book XXXV of Pliny the Elder’s Natural History, devoted to painting. Desgrandchamps initially intended to reconstruct works by ancient Roman painters that survive only through Pliny’s descriptions. Because Pliny’s descriptions were too imprecise to serve as visual models, he chose instead to combine passages from the text with fragmented compositions drawn from his own earlier paintings. The finished book contains 15 compositions drawn freehand on stone and printed in 5 to 7 colors across 44 bound pages. To give the book its particular color and rhythm, Desgrandchamps worked with le point coquille, a demanding nineteenth-century lithographic technique developed before photomechanical color separation. Using a drop pen, he laid down dots by hand for each color separation; as the successive layers were printed over one another, a broad range of tones emerged from a limited number of colors. Working through these separations subsequently informed the large-scale color lithographs Desgrandchamps produced at the atelier.
64 bound pages in a slipcase. 24 lithographs with a poem by the artist in letterpress. 25x23 cm. Ed. 35.
Pinocchio was one of the central subjects of Jim Dine’s 15-year collaboration with the atelier. Dine has said that he carried the character “on my back like a landscape since I was six years old.” Drawn to the darker, more complex figure of Carlo Collodi’s original story, he returned repeatedly to Pinocchio’s vanity, errors of judgment, and physical transformations. Beginning in the early 2000s, we printed numerous works devoted to the wooden puppet, notably Dine’s large-scale lithographic illustrations for an edition published by Steidl.
Donkey in the Sea Before Us was the second book to emerge from this sustained exploration. Here, Dine moved from the monumental scale of the earlier lithographs to a collection of 19th-century stones originally used for printing commercial labels, most no larger than a postcard. He treated these restricted surfaces with the same physical freedom as his largest stones, producing a sequence of black-and-white portraits of Pinocchio. Their differing dimensions and shapes became part of the book’s rhythm: some occupy a page alone, while others appear in succession or in groups.
Dine’s long poem was interspersed among the portraits and printed in hand-set letterpress by master printer Ruth Lingen in New York. The 2 ateliers worked together for approximately 18 months to complete the book: we printed the lithographs in Paris, while the typography was printed in Brooklyn.
64 bound pages in a slipcase. 18 linocuts and a poem by the artist in letterpress. 42x32,5 cm. Ed. 40.
My Letter to the Troops is Jim Dine’s confessional address to the collaborators, friends, and family who formed the community around his life and work. Its long, fluid poem moves between childhood memories, reflections on his artistic practice, and philosophical meditations.
Dine gave this community a physical presence through portraits cut freehand into linoleum: printers, readers, assistants, and copy editors, as well as his wife, his granddaughter, himself, and, in memoriam, the master printer Aldo Crommelynck. 15 of the book’s 20 plates portray printers, making the work both a tribute to the profession and a collective portrait of the many hands involved in its production.
Published in an edition of 40 in connection with Dine’s 80th birthday, the book was celebrated beneath the atelier’s glass skylight, where the artist read his text. Its color linocuts were printed by hand on Arches vellum. The poem was printed in letterpress at S.A.I.G. by François Huin and his machinist, Monsieur Hue, in one of their final projects.
Selected passages from the Georgics are woven through the book without being directly illustrated. Instead, they enter into association with an unexpected collection of images: sketches of nests, Swedish houses surrounded by undergrowth, fruit-crate logos, a photograph of Leo Tolstoy with Maxim Gorky, and a tribute to Fairfield Porter in the form of a clothesline stretched between birch trees. Together, the text and images reflect on how land is observed, named, cultivated, and cared for.
At the atelier, these fragments were brought into a single structure through lithography, woodcut, collage, letterpress, monotype, pigment printing, laser cutting and hand intervention—processes developed across 14 years of collaboration. The book was launched at the atelier with readings by Drummond and the writer and translator Frédéric Boyer, followed by a conversation with Boyer about his translation of the Georgics.
54 bound pages in a leather cover with an additional loose lithograph inserted, cardboard slipcase. Lithography with hand coloring on Japanese paper. 31 x 24 cm. Ed. 40.
At our first meeting, before we had made a single print together, Frédérique Loutz proposed beginning with a book. She was about to leave for a year-long residency at the Villa Medici in Rome, so she took a stack of lithographic transfer sheets in a fixed format. Working only with pen and black ink, without pencil or wash, she left Paris with the initial idea of making a kind of cookbook inspired by her time in Rome.
What came back a year later was something altogether more complex: hundreds of drawings centered on the pretzel, which Loutz associated both with Rome and with her childhood in Lorraine. These became interwoven with the story of Hansel and Gretel, while fragments of Roman architecture took the place of the witch’s house. Printed on fine, translucent ochre Japanese paper, the images remain visible through the sheets once bound, allowing recto and verso to overlap and transform one another as the pages are turned.
3 box sets (blue, white, red) each with 11 lithographs and 3 or 4 texts on 38g Japanese paper. 11 poems by Ernesto Castillo. 33×33cm. Ed 33.
After reading Racine’s tragedy Phèdre, Frédérique Loutz produced 33 drawings, each conceived as an independent and highly personal variation on the work rather than as part of a continuous illustration of its narrative. At the time, she was frequently working in a square format and designing covers for 33-rpm records. She brought the atelier 33 drawings made on lithographic transfer sheets, each measuring 33 × 33 cm.
Together, we arranged the drawings into 3 “albums” of 11 images, accompanied by poems by the Colombian poet Ernesto Castillo. Each album was housed in a box modeled on those used for classical record sets, with a linocut carved by Loutz depicting a spinning record on the cover. Through this structure, the sequence of drawings takes on the rhythm of a musical recording: 3 distinct albums whose images can be encountered individually while remaining part of a larger composition.
Box set of 10 artist’s books, 9 in lithography and woodcut. N°10 with poems by Ernesto Castillo in letterpress.
13,5×9,5×11,5 cm. Ed. 50.
In German, anders means “other” or “different”; the word also contains an echo of Hans Christian Andersen. The project was inspired by a trip I made to Dublin, where I saw an exhibition of Andersen’s fanciful paper cutouts, which the writer unfolded and used as part of his storytelling. I brought the idea back to Loutz, and together we developed it through the folding structure of 2 earlier pocket-sized book experiments.
Anders brings together 10 small artist’s books in a single box. Each is constructed from a single sheet of paper, printed on one side and cut with a central slit. Through a precise sequence of folds, the sheet becomes a 12-page book complete with front cover, spine, and back cover; unfolded, it returns to a single printed image. The books can therefore be read page by page or opened out and viewed as complete compositions. Loutz draws on Andersen’s fairy tales not as subjects for direct illustration but as points of departure for exploring ambiguity and transformation.
24 unbound pages in a cloth folder. All pages in lithography and linocut. Text by the artist in lithography.
29×28 cm. Ed. 30.
Les Frissons was the first artist’s book produced at my atelier. Mabille and I had worked together since around 1982, during my years at the Bordas studio, and he followed me when I opened my own atelier in 1985. From the outset, he conceived the entire book—text, images, and layout—including 3 center spreads that were also printed in larger editions and sold separately as individual works. Some pages were produced in lithography; for others, Mabille carved the images directly into linoleum. Working with him on these pages was my first encounter with linocut, bringing the technique into the atelier’s practice, where it would become important in many later projects.
68 unbound pages with a cover. Lithography and linocut. Text by Pierre Tilman in lithography. 22,5 x 17,5 cm. Ed. 50.
For our second book, Mabille invited the poet Pierre Tilman, who brought with him the title and a group of unpublished short texts. Mabille incorporated them throughout his design, typing them onto tracing paper with his Underwood No. 6 typewriter so that they could be transferred directly to lithographic plates. The texts were then printed on papers ranging from ordinary stationery to fine vellum.
The book has no conventional binding. Its structure changes continually: most sections take the form of 4-page folios, while others consist of a single sheet or extend through folded flaps. It was what we called a “kitchen” book—a project made entirely within the atelier, without recourse to outside binders, box makers, or typographers. Every aspect of its form emerged directly from the working process shared by artist, poet, and printer.
32 bound pages in a wooden box. Lithographs by the artist and Demosthènes Davvetas. 27×21 cm. Ed 300.
William MacKendree was one of the first artists with whom I worked closely after opening my atelier on the Île Saint-Louis. Météores began as a 2-week collaborative experiment: MacKendree and the Greek poet Demosthènes Davvetas lived and worked together, drawing and writing on the same lithographic transfer sheets. Their contributions became so intertwined that, on many pages, it was no longer possible to distinguish the poet’s hand from the painter’s. Together, they produced hundreds of sheets, from which we selected and sequenced 32 pages. We wanted the finished book to be handled and read, and to remain financially accessible rather than being treated solely as a precious object. It was therefore printed in an edition of 300, priced as modestly as possible, and distributed through specialized bookstores in Paris.
24 bound pages. Images and texts in lithography. Title and colophon in letterpress. 30×34 cm. Ed. 35.
For a 3-week road trip around Iceland, I assembled a complete travel kit for MacKendree: lithographic transfer sheets, pencils, inks, scrapers, and erasers. He abandoned all of it almost immediately. Instead, he gathered black volcanic sand, mixed it with diluted gum arabic, and used it to paint directly onto the transfer sheets. Back in Paris, the results printed beautifully. He came back with nearly 100 compositions made on site, sometimes under extreme conditions; it took weeks on the studio wall to establish the book’s structure. Icelandic words picked up during the journey punctuate the book like markers along a route. Across landscapes, animals, and houses, the granular presence of the volcanic sand remains embedded in the images.
32 unbound pages. Images and text in lithography. 19 x 15 cm. Ed. 300.
This unrealized book project was interrupted by constraints of time and money, as well as by the atelier’s successive moves. Only this initial prototype survives. Without text, it explores how Maurige’s shapes interact and change as its pages are turned. To construct it, we returned to an archive of wooden elements accumulated over years of making woodcuts, recombining these existing elements to create the forms required by the layout.
The 9 compositions were printed in an edition of 35. 9 copies were assembled as books, with a text by Mont on the cover. To accommodate the unusually rigid and layered pages, we chose heavy blue board for the front and back covers and joined the structure with a spiral binding.
22) Farhad Ostovani – We talked between the Rooms, 2014
32 bound pages. 6 lithographs and woodcuts. Poem by Emily Dickinson in letterpress, with French translation by Yves Bonnefoy in lithography. 20 x 48,5 cm. Ed. 30.
This book takes its point of departure from Emily Dickinson’s poem I died for Beauty—but was scarce, in which 2 neighbors in adjoining tombs speak to one another, sharing their experiences and consoling one another. Their exchange continues until moss reaches their lips and covers their names, bringing both speech and identity to an end. Ostovani responds to this gradual erasure through a motif of foliage that thickens as the book progresses. The book was awarded the Grand Prix de Bibliophilie by the Académie des Beaux-Arts in Paris in 2014.
20 unbound pages in a metal slipcase with a bronze sculpture. Trichloroethylene transfer. 48 x 32,5 cm. Ed. 20.
The title begins with an anagram: Le Monde, the French daily newspaper, becomes Le Démon. Pencréac’h took pages from the newspaper, which we reversed by transferring them directly onto Arches vellum. He then disrupted their original meanings by inserting images drawn from his paintings and other sources. Across 20 pages, death, art, and sex collide with current events, producing the same violent confrontations between forms that characterize his paintings and assemblages.
Each copy was housed in a slipcase of iron and bronze, individually adorned with a skeleton, a tank, or another martial motif, establishing the tone before the pages are opened. Through reversal and displacement, the familiar newspaper becomes an altogether different symbolic object.
44 bound pages in a metal slipcase with a magnetic bronze sculpture. 20 collages in trichloroethylene transfer. Text by the artist stamped by hand. 31,5 x 26 cm. Ed. 20.
For his second artist’s book at the atelier, Pencréac’h assembled a sequence of erotic collages exploring the painful and destructive dimensions of love. To reproduce them, we developed a process for transferring the images directly onto sandpaper. Its abrasive surface is not simply a support: it gives the images a physical roughness inseparable from their subject. The book is enclosed in a metal case with a magnetic bronze sculpture in the form of a mouth, secured by a padlock and opened with a key. Conceived as a sealed, clandestine object, its enclosure makes access to the book itself part of the work.
44 bound pages in wooden box. 22 lithographs. Text by D.O.A. in lithography. 40x40 cm. Ed. 40 (first 20 in French, the next 20 in English).
POWER brings together photographic portraits of 20 political leaders who held office in 2020 with a text by the novelist D.O.A. Selected from images in the public domain, each leader looks directly into the camera. Facing each official portrait is an image of citizens gathered in the corresponding capital, either protesting against the leader or demonstrating their support. The confrontation between the images—the individual figure of authority and the collective body responding to it—is the book’s organizing principle.
All 40 photographs were printed by hand using photolithography, with the accompanying texts set in Futura and printed in letterpress. For the deluxe edition, the book is housed in a wooden box. Its checkerboard pattern was hand-printed in silkscreen, and a bronze king chess piece was mounted on the lid, extending the book’s imagery of power into the object that contains it.
48 pages unbound. 48 lithographs. 21x14,5 cm. Ed. 40.
Every morning, I took my daughter Lou to school. A conversation with her first-grade teacher, Mr. Grigorieff, led to the idea of inviting the entire class—30 children—to make a lithographic book together. I cut transfer sheets to the dimensions of the pages and gave the class a set of felt-tip markers. Each child drew either a self-portrait or a portrait of the person they imagined becoming. Those who had begun to write added a short text describing their image. Each child received a book. The class came to the atelier during printing, with each student taking a turn at the press and turning its wheel once.
Schwarzwald initially planned to invent a system of signs for the text, but eventually decided to write a poem, which took him nearly 3 years. The resulting poem, his first published literary work, moves between ghosts and the body, physical presence and disembodied life within computers and the internet. Organized in chapters defined by color, the finished book contains 26 monotypes, 7 original lithographs, 2 direct-transfer images, and 15 pages of text printed in lithography. Its image sequence was established early and remained remarkably stable throughout the process, while the text continued to shift.
80 bound pages in a cloth slipcase. Monotype and a small number of original lithographs; poem by the artist printed in lithography. 34 x 25 cm. Ed. 15.
All New Ghosts began with one of the most absurd ideas ever proposed to me: to make an editioned artist’s book almost entirely from monotypes. An edition ordinarily depends upon producing a group of identical copies, while a monotype is, by definition, a unique impression that can be made only once. Schwarzwald proposed making 20 versions of every composition, repeating each closely enough in scale, placement, and structure for 15 books to follow the same sequence. The books would share an architecture, but every image—and therefore every copy—would remain unique.
The project took 5 years. Schwarzwald returned to Paris for 7 or 8 intensive week-long sessions, during which every available hand and press in the atelier was mobilized. He worked with pastry bags, spatulas, squeegees, graffiti markers, and rollers, repeating each composition while preserving the freedom and physical immediacy of the monotype. Maintaining that continuity required extraordinary concentration; while working, he would slip into something close to a trance.
12-page bound book on Japanese paper immersed in beeswax. Text by Thomas Lux. Lithography, sewing, cutout. 24 x 18 cm. Ed. 25.
You’re alone grew out of José Maria Sicilia’s exploration of what might be called the “original multiple”: a printed image transformed by direct material intervention so that every impression becomes different. Following Spellbound, our first series of prints on Japanese paper immersed in beeswax, we wanted to carry the technique into a bound book. The wax gave the paper an unexpected translucency and weight, while making the printed image, binding, and material surface inseparable.
Sicilia had discovered, in James Ellroy’s novel Suicide Hill, an epigraph attributed to the American poet Thomas Lux. It became the point of departure for a sequence of butterflies, skulls, insects, and animals, rendered through lithography, cutouts, and sewn thread. The 12 pages were sewn together before the book was dipped in beeswax. Published in an edition of 25, You’re alone became a foundational work in Sicilia’s long collaboration with the atelier.
30 bound pages. Interventions in lithography, linocut, and hand-coloring. 32×25cm. Ed. 20.
The project began in 1994, when Sicilia called me urgently from a bookshop on the rue Monsieur-le-Prince. There he had found an 8-volume edition of Le Livre des Mille Nuits et Une Nuit published in 1913, comprising more than 3,000 pages in the French translation by Dr. J.-C. Mardrus. On every page, the ornamental frame surrounding the text changes in color and form. We bought the set immediately.
At Atelier Houdart, the 8 volumes were taken apart. We calculated that their pages could be redistributed, approximately 24 at a time, across 120 individual books. Rather than create a single edition, we conceived a lifelong project: 6 successive volumes, each published in an edition of 20. Sicilia worked directly on the original pages designed by Mardrus and inserted additional folios of Japanese paper between them. Because each copy contains different pages from the source edition, the books share a structure without being identical.
From the beginning, Sicilia insisted that the project should not repeat solutions we already knew. Each volume would function as a laboratory in which techniques, images, and materials could be tested, often anticipating developments in his paintings and prints. Volume I established that principle through lithography, linocut, and hand interventions across the original pages.
30 bound pages. Interventions in lithography, linocut, and hand-coloring. 32×25cm. Ed. 20.
Volume II extended the imagery of veils and flowers introduced in the first book, testing combinations that would later develop into Sicilia’s Les Orifices series of 1998–2000. Other experiments remained particular to this volume: animal footprints, the figure of the ibis, metal suspension rings once used in Indian houses, and images generated with a homemade kaleidoscope.
Sicilia never illustrates the stories directly. The pages of the Mardrus edition remain a material and visual ground against which new forms are introduced, obscuring parts of the text while allowing fragments of it to persist. Lithography, linocut, and hand-coloring make each copy a distinct variation within the edition of 20.
50 bound pages. Interventions in lithography, linocut, monotype and hand-coloring. 32×25cm. Ed. 20.
By the time Sicilia returned to the project for Volume III, his work had changed completely. The beeswax, flowers, and veils of the first 2 volumes had given way to the sonagram—a digital visualization of sound. He worked with recordings he made himself or found online: a bird’s call, the deep-ocean origin of a tsunami, a single breath. These visual traces were enlarged, fragmented and translated into painting and print. The linear patterns running through much of the book are different birdsongs, appearing here for the first time within the series.
At the center, scented folios on Japanese paper evoke the paradise-garden patterns of Persian carpets. They form a final connection to an earlier body of work, including the monumental carpet Sicilia produced with us on plaster blocks for an exhibition at the Louvre in 2003.
50 bound pages. Hand interventions in lithography, woodcut, and embroidery. 32×25cm. Ed. 20.
By Volume IV, the sonagram had become central to Sicilia’s practice. He recorded the sound of sewing, often on a machine, and transformed its visual trace into forms that he subsequently stitched into fabric. The book opens and closes with dense fields of binary numbers superimposed on the original, rendering the text illegible. Between them, woodcuts printed on Japanese paper isolate and enlarge details from the sonagrams, while an embroidered sonagram occupies the centerfold. The volume concludes with 4 “daguerreotype” sonagrams, each derived from the call of a different bird. Across its 50 pages, lithography, photogravure, woodcut, and embroidery move the recorded sound between digital image, printed mark and sewn line.
32 bound pages in a cardboard portfolio. 9 lithographs. Text by Laurent Busine in letterpress. 30 x 21 cm. Ed. 30
While working simultaneously on his series of lithographs Les Orifices and Le Livre des Mille Nuits et Une Nuit, Sicilia asked the Belgian curator Laurent Busine to write a tale in the manner of the Nights about loving the body’s 9 orifices. Sicilia responded with 9 lithographic flowers, distributed through the book in relation to the text and to the larger series then in progress.
Rather than give the book an elaborate presentation, Sicilia and Busine chose a plain gray cardboard portfolio tied with a canvas ribbon. Closer in appearance to an ordinary document folder than to a precious livre d’artiste, it looks as if it belongs in a cupboard rather than being formally displayed.
7 bound pages in a slipcase. Flower transfers. XXxXX cm. Ed. 1/1.
After an extended period of painting flowers onto lithographic stones for Les Orifices, Sicilia began En flor, a series in which we crushed fresh flowers between sheets of Japanese paper in the press, allowing their natural stains to spread through the translucent fibers. Each result was unique. As the series developed, we observed that certain flowers retained their color much longer than others. For La luz que se apaga, Sicilia selected only flowers whose stains had proved the least light-stable, bringing 7 compositions together in a single volume. Like the individual works in En flor, the book is unique. Part herbarium, part landscape watercolor sketchbook, the closed book protects its fugitive colors from light and prolongs their life.
16 bound pages in slipcase. Lithography and Rorschach stains. 6 poems by Jacques Dupin in letterpress. 33,5×22cm.
Ed. 37.
Impromptu brought to a close the body of work made that same year under the title La luz que se apaga. Sicilia printed his insect compositions on the reverse of translucent Japanese paper, partially concealing them. On the front, he applied Rorschach-like stains by hand, allowing parts of the images beneath to emerge through the paper. The French poet Jacques Dupin contributed 6 poems, placed throughout the book and printed in shades of gray. The cover was made from heavily textured organic Nepalese paper. Like Sicilia’s other books, Impromptu opens without a conventional title or credit page: only the title appears at the beginning, while the names of the artist, author, and publisher are reserved for the colophon.
3 bound books of 8-page folios in cloth slipcase. Lithography and linocut. 34x22 cm. Ed. 37.
In early 1993, Sicilia stopped immersing his editions in beeswax and returned to working solely on paper. The translucency of the wax-treated works remained important to him, however, and he wanted to find a paper that would provide a similar effect while allowing him to work on both sides. We tested a selection of Japanese papers before choosing Bunko Shi, which proved ideal for the purpose.
The print series and book of the same title were produced through the same process: Sicilia painted circular beehive forms in wash on lithographic stones. After we printed them, he added a black lithographic drawing of bees hovering around them. He folded each sheet inward from both ends, leaving a narrow gap through which a glimpse of his composition remained visible. Oblong shapes cut in linoleum were printed across the folds in ochre-colored varnish. Sicilia wanted to evoke the shifting light and shadow inside a beehive. The book extended this idea by letting the reader create different overlaps while turning and unfolding its pages. Once we had made the first prototype, it became clear that the continual folding and unfolding would make a single volume cumbersome to handle, so we divided the project into 3 bound volumes, allowing the images to breathe.
40 bound pages in box. Lithography and laser cutting. 28,5 x 38 cm. Ed. 40.
During the summer of 2023, Peter Soriano spent several weeks in Ilulissat, Greenland, observing and drawing the icebergs drifting through Disko Bay. It was the height of the calving season, when enormous masses of ice break away from the glacier and begin moving south. Icebergs the size of entire city blocks or ten-story buildings could remain apparently motionless for days, then disappear overnight almost without notice, while others slowly took their place.
Soriano developed the book’s images over an extended period in Paris, Bern, New York, and Penobscot, Maine. Working from sketches and photographs made during his stay in Greenland, he drew directly on lithographic transfer sheets. The images are accompanied by an excerpt from T. S. Eliot’s Burnt Norton (1936), including the French translation by Pierre Leyris, and a passage from Jemma Wadham’s Ice Rivers (2021).
38) Barthélemy Toguo – The Erotic Diary of a Lumberjack, 2009
18 unbound pages. Linocut for images. Text by the artist in lithography. 38 x 26 cm. Ed. 30.
At the atelier, Barthélemy Toguo proposed an unexpected project inspired by the Pirelli calendar: a suite of 12 linocuts—one for each month—printed in electric blue and presented as a boxed set. The hybrid figures, boldly carved, accompany the artist’s own text about a mercurial young woman named Lola. Through these graphic forms, the suite explores carnal desire, solitude, and physical pleasure as interrelated aspects of bodily experience. The book was subsequently acquired for the collection of the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), New York.
50 unbound pages in a slipcase. Lithography with hand coloring. 27 x 21 cm. Ed. 200.
After years of working together, the hyperrealist painter Claude Yvel, an expert on old-master techniques, came to me with the idea of gathering everything he knew about oil painting into a book. No trade publisher had been willing to undertake it, so we decided to develop the project ourselves as a limited edition. Yvel drew every stage of the process directly on lithographic stone, from the preparation of materials to instructions for making one’s own brushes. For the book’s concluding section, he invited printer friends in Switzerland to reproduce a group of his paintings in color.
Once we had completed a prototype, the stones were taken to Atelier Jacques Champfleury, where 200 copies were printed on a mechanical lithographic press. A year after its publication, a trade publisher recognized the value of Yvel’s approach and issued his first widely distributed treatise on oil painting. Several revised editions appeared in the following decades.
44 bound pages; images and text by the artist, lithography and linocut. 42.5 x 33 cm. Ed. 30.
Otto Zitko expands drawing beyond the confines of paper and canvas, using continuous, gestural lines to occupy walls and architectural spaces; his dense, all-over compositions transform the viewer’s perception of the space that contains them. Polyne is unusual within this otherwise rigorously abstract practice: it brings Zitko’s own text together with a sequence of drawn portraits of women.
The large-format book was conceived as a tribute to the major French artist’s books of the mid-20th century, particularly those published by Tériade, who founded the art review Verve. We wanted to recover their generous scale and the direct physical presence of original lithography, a tradition I had first encountered through my work at Bordas and with Mourlot. That scale determined every stage of production. The sheets were too large to print more than one page at a time, so they had to be proofed and printed individually. Months were devoted to establishing the proofs, followed by an even longer period of printing and assembling the edition page by page. The resulting book translates Zitko’s expansive approach to drawing into a sequence that is both intimate and architectural.
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