Every year, Mr. Bunny and I produce a letterpress calendar. It’s a nice Christmas gift that doesn’t take up much space during the year, and can be recycled at the end of it. Designing and producing the calendar is a pleasant part of our December, too. I do drawings (which are then turned into letterpress plates via..uh…magic, by the people at Box.ca.r P.ress) and Mr. Bunny does the layout of the dates and stuff and all the printing, on a five thousand ton proof press that lives in our third-floor studio. It requires a lot of collaboration (so it’s always like going to marriage camp–can we get through this without fighting?), but is very satisfying. Last year the calendar featured pop-ups (pop up animals and stuff). This year, it features little doors, advent calendar style. One is opened each month, and behind each door will be found a recipe for a seasonally appropriate cocktail. (Because I want a fucking drink.) It’s always a bit crude and funky, but that’s part of the charm, we think. And while we do it mainly for the fun of it, I regularly get e-mails from people when they turn to the next page, so it provides this sweet link to loved ones over the course of the year. ANYWAY, during the design phase, we were talking about what to do with May, the month that Bun Bun will theoretically arrive. Did we want to do something baby-related? For example, some balloons or flowers at the door to signify the new arrival? A baby in a basket? We stroked our chins. HELL NO, we decided. Because if something goes wrong, that would be extremely fucking sad. We’d have to send everyone a big black X to paste over that month. But in the end, I couldn’t let the opportunity pass entirely, because I can’t think of May without thinking of Bun Bun. So here’s the May door, modeled after my very own front door.
No-one but us will think anything of it: May is, after all, a season when one starts to see tons of bunnies if one lives in an area with bunnies. Or they’ll be like, Bunnies, whatever, and rip it open to get at the liquor. But for us…hopeful anticipation.