Handcrafted in 1971 as a Christmas gift for close friends, Morning Glory on the Vine brings together lyrical sketches, poems, and intimate watercolor paintings from a deeply personal space. This beautifully hand-bound volume remained private for decades before finally being shared with the public.
Songs and images unfold as fragments of memory and emotion throughout the book. In her introduction, Joni Mitchell writes, “I sing my sorrow and I paint my joy.” The early pages shimmer with portraits of friends, still lifes bathed in the golden hues of Laurel Canyon, and cozy snapshots of home that feel like a well-worn sweater. Her handwritten lyrics—some of the earliest—give voice to an artist blossoming between music and visual poetry.
What strikes me most about Morning Glory on the Vine is the intimacy of its pages. Instead of percussive strumming or layered production, you’re invited to lean in, read each word in Joni’s flowing script, immerse yourself in paint bleeds and pen trails. These aren’t stage-bound anthems—they’re tiny windows into the creative process itself.
The presentation is simple, tactile, and refreshing. The book keeps its handcrafted roots intact, preserving the charm of marginal scrawls, uneven borders, and personal flourishes. It isn’t polished or edited—it’s lovingly preserved. Which feels radical, in a world where so much of the creative process is now filtered, commercialized, and streamlined.
