From: Emily Dickinson, Herbarium, (1 volume, 66 pages, in green cloth case), ca. 1839-1846 [MS Am 1118.11, Houghton Library © President and Fellows of Harvard College, Cambridge, MA]
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obsessed with emily dickinson's herbarium 🌿 x
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Emily Dickinson’s herbarium.
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Emily Dickinson, Herbarium - The Emily Dickinson Collection
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Dickinson, Emily, 1830-1886. Herbarium, circa 1839-1846. 1 volume (66 pages) in green cloth case; 37 cm. MS Am 1118.11, Houghton Library © President and Fellows of Harvard College.
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pressings
Here are some of my most recent pressings. I am pleased with the way these held their colour during the process.
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« As she writes, [Emily Dickinson] erases herself. She disappears behind the blade of grass that, if not for her, we would never have seen. She does not write to express herself, perish the thought. [...S]he doesn’t write to be noticed. She writes to bear witness: here lived a flower, for three days in July, the year of 18**, killed by a morning shower. Each poem is a tiny tomb erected to the memory of the invisible.
[...] Emily writes about the world she inhabits, knowing that it would be more beautiful still if it were uninhabited.
[...] She would have liked to make a book with only flowers, like she did at age fourteen. [...] Her pen scratches like a bird. Her poems are at least one-half chickadee. She writes on paper, but that is because she was never able to put together an album big enough to contain the spring showers and the autumn wind – there is no herbarium for snow. She dreams of poems written with insects [...]. Of the golden sonnets bees trace in honey. »
— Dominique Fortier, Paper Houses
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iiif.lib.harvard.edu
December 10, 2023 with 57 notes
Emily Dickinson Herbarium.
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As she writes, she erases herself. She disappears behind the blade of grass.
« As she writes, [Emily Dickinson] erases herself. She disappears behind the blade of grass that, if not for her, we would never have seen. She does not write to express herself, perish the thought. […S]he doesn’t write to be noticed. She writes to bear witness: here lived a flower, for three days in July, the year of 18**, killed by a morning shower. Each poem is a tiny tomb erected to the memory of the invisible.
[…] Emily writes about the world she inhabits, knowing that it would be more beautiful still if it were uninhabited.
[…] She would have liked to make a book with only flowers, like she did at age fourteen. […] Her pen scratches like a bird. Her poems are at least one-half chickadee. She writes on paper, but that is because she was never able to put together an album big enough to contain the spring showers and the autumn wind – there is no herbarium for snow. She dreams of poems written with insects […]. Of the golden sonnets bees trace in honey. »
— Dominique Fortier, Paper Houses. Translated by Rhonda Mullins. (Coach House Books, October 8, 2019) (via Alive on All Channels)
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Page from Emily Dickinson’s herbarium via
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From: Emily Dickinson, Herbarium, (1 volume, 66 pages, in green cloth case), ca. 1839-1846 [MS Am 1118.11, Houghton Library © President and Fellows of Harvard College, Cambridge, MA]
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Joan As Police Woman with Emily Dickinson and the centuries-old pressed flowers from her actual herbarium. ||
from Maria Popova on Vimeo.
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