I recently went to a bookbinding induction at Battersea as the screenprinting workshop had been cancelled, and it ended up being much more enjoyable than I expected. I walked away feeling like I understood the mechanics of binding far more than I thought I would. More importantly, I started thinking differently about books as objects.

The timing of the induction was especially interesting because it paired nicely with a workshop I attended last week on layouts and InDesign. Together, the two experiences connected form and structure in a way I hadn’t fully considered before: how a book is designed on screen, and how that design is physically held together by hand.

I’ve made books after nearly every dance project I’ve completed, but until recently I hadn’t given much thought to the beauty or intention behind assembling a book by hand. Sewing a book together felt surprisingly embodied. I’m so used to finalizing work digitally that this slower, tactile process revealed an entirely different mode of engagement. It made me realize how much creative potential exists between the image and the final object.

During the induction, we worked with several structures, including simple zine-style bindings and a zigzag book that I found especially fun. Each format made me think about how my work might live differently on the page. I often imagine my images as flat, singular moments—or, more recently, as products—but this experience shifted my thinking toward the book itself as a standalone art object. How does an image unfold? How does sequence, pacing, and touch change the way the work is received?

It also opened up bigger questions about materials. I don’t know if I’ll pursue this path immediately, but I’m increasingly curious about paper-making, especially given how central environmental care is to my practice. The idea of creating my own materials—rescued, reused, or sustainably sourced—and then binding them into books feels like a meaningful extension of the work. Rather than seeing books as consuming paper, I’m starting to imagine them as opportunities to rethink material cycles and sustainability.

For now, this induction simply planted a seed. But it’s one that feels rich with possibility. Another way of slowing down, working with the hands, and allowing new forms of creativity to emerge.