Kate Breakey. Limited-edition photogravure from Small Deaths. Kate Breakey & The University of Texas Press (Austin: 2001). (via Collaboration | Brauchli Gravure)
picnics; wedding-planning; jet-skiing; gin-running across frozen Lake Huron with my bearded uncles; heated matches of tennis with my up-country rivals; correspondence with Yvette, the most comely of my second-cousins; soiled linens; giving alms to the shivering and suffering poor in their dingy clap-houses; keeping my powder dry; living outside my means; sipping nervously at hot Tom and Jerrys in hotel lounges under jaundiced, harsh lighting; wearing straw boaters set at rakish angles; trotting the glum marshes; marsh wiggles; gwiggles; waxing down my pith helmet/blunderbuss; being as true as turnips; upturning apple-waggons; going to the mall; mending butterfly nets; sending and receiving post; geomancy and general ghost-bottling; being better at closet lemur massage than my friend Will