Ex Libris

On Making to fight the Void

My favorite thing about my name is that it goes in a circle. Let me show you.

Steven Norris > STEVENORRISTEVENORRISTEVENORRISTEVEN

My grandparents deserve some or all of the credit because they named my dad Shawn Norris which means he can go

SHAWNORRISHAWNORRISHAWNORRISHAWN

Was it on purpose? Who can say. But my dad thought it would be cool if his son could do the same thing. So here we are.

Late in 2025 I saw some cool old-timey bookplates (you can see a bunch here) and the thoughts started percolating. Half the joy of owning a book is to lend it. But the major risk? That book not being returned. I lent out a few books that I’ll never see again AND I’ve needed to return a few books back to friends… for years.¹

My bookplate noodling got me thinking I should incorporate the Cyclical Naming Thing into a design. A few iterations turned out all right, but nothing I would qualify as Grade-A Good Shit.

Then I realized that Ex Libris and Norris share three of the same letters. I pictured a cloud or a tree branch growing over itself, the letters tidily reused. A few attempts showed I lacked the prowess to draw this concept, let alone linoprint it.

So then, the simplest idea. MVP as we say in corporate America. Minimum Viable (book)Plate. Blocks. Drew a couple versions of that and liked it fine.

Then I put it down and put it in the project backlog with a million other things.

Then a few weeks back on a Saturday afternoon, as Amelia worked on her sewing project, I found myself with a free hour or so. Enough free time to do a little of something, not a lot. My heart was full of ennui, angst, you name it. Because January kind of sucked shit. For all my talk of not writing off entire chunks of the year, January had a pretty high quotient of spiritual dogshit. How to cope then? Action. I’ve taken to heart the idea that movement, action of any sort, is a great balm for the soul. An obvious solution? Crafts. Crafting. Making shit. One of the better parts of elementary school was art class—just enough structure to give you direction and momentum but enough freedom to get lost and surprise yourself.

So Amelia grabbed her linoprinting materials from the closet and I set about chiseling pink rubber. I figured I would do it until I got bored, which would probably be a few minutes hence. Then I got sucked in. The feeling of childhood and artistic liberty overtook me.

And just as Amelia was about to put on her coat and jet off for her next engagement of the day, she walked me through inking the linoprint and helped me rip out some prints.

Please note the mirror Amelia gave Kona for when she drinks from her dog bowl.

I was so happy with how it turned out that I shouted in surprise as I peeled the print away. Not that it’s amazing by any means. More that my expectations were LOW. I figured it would look like trash and I would feel like I’d wasted a precious hour and I would throw it away.

I liked it. So I kept stamping.

Now all my favorite books are stamped with it.

So next time anyone tries to borrow a book for an inappropriately long amount of time! Good luck, pal! There’s a heaping helping of guilt on page one. And the misery of January? It’s become the misery of February, a different thing entirely, with a new shape to learn, all accompanied by the joys and laughs and good times of February. So it goes.

Thanks for reading. Happy crafting. Happy art-ing. Happy living.

xoxo,

Steve

1. What is the most tactful way to say sorry for basically stealing a book for a long ass while? Something to ponder in a different post.