"I tried handmade paper once and it didn't work." How many times has that phrase made this papermaker wince? Forgetting that prior to the early nineteenth century all drawings and prints were done on handmade paper, contemporary artists often select a handmade paper that is inappropriate for their medium. Then, when they cannot achieve their desired effects, they conclude that the paper is at fault and pronounce all handmade paper to be inferior. Hearing the same thoughts expressed by other marblers came as a surprise, because I had tried it and it did work! In fact, since my first instruction in marbling in 1986, I have been using handmade paper and, far from it not working, the interaction of handmade paper and color floating on water has become a major element of my development as an artist. The question of why some handmade papers "won't work" for some marblers relates to the choosing of appropriate paper. Fiber, beating time, sizing (or lack of it), pigments, and other inclusions will affect, if not determine, how well a paper works for marbling. One concern often expressed about handmade paper is the expense. I feel fortunate that, as a papermaker, I seem to have an unlimited supply of handmade papers available. This has allowed me to experiment with various kinds of paper and, further, to create papers for specific marbling processes. For my recent marbled works I have been making recycled papers, making sure the fiber is not overbeaten, and usually including two tablespoons of internal sizing per one and a half pounds of fiber. I am attracted to crafts with long traditions, papermaking and marbling among them. (I have also tried my hand at painting, sculpture in bronze and steel, ceramics, glass blowing, woodcarving, musical instrument building, bookbinding, calligraphy, and letterpress, relief, and intaglio printing.) For me, breaking the rules is an unwritten requirement of being an artist, but that act must always follow a long period of learning the rules. The rules of marbling are elusive. Discussions among marblers often have one person claiming that "such and such never works" only to have another say the same thing "always works." In addition, what works one day might not work the next. I heard of one teacher who claimed that it is too dry in Colorado to marble, yet I marbled there for fifteen years. Now I live in the even dryer state of New Mexico, where important contributions to the craft have been made for decades. Considerations of weather—temperature, humidity, barometric pressure, wind, and even air pollution—will affect the outcome of one's work. Successful marbling, either consciously or unconsciously, takes these circumstances into account. Given these variables it made sense that one of the speakers at the first International Marblers Gathering in Santa Fe, in 1989, was Rollo Silver, a mathematician who studies fractals. He mentioned a concept of chaos theory that has stuck with me since I first heard it: "a sensitive dependence on initial conditions." Whether by luck or by skill, subtleties of material and environment are factored into a marbler's work and the piece that results is only more or less chaotic. The art of it begins with a selection of materials and ends with knowing when to stop. Since that first Marblers Gathering, gatherings have been held in San Francisco, Baltimore, Istanbul, and, last year at Arrowmont School of Art and Craft, Gatlinburg (Tennessee). While no formal international organizations of marblers exist now, an International Society has been called for. As with hand papermaking, twenty years ago one could find only a handful of how-to books on marbling; now there are many. An active marbling listserve now gives voice to beginners and experts the world over. For those not familiar with the marbling process, a simplified description follows. Using brushes or eyedroppers, I spatter liquid acrylic colors onto water thickened with carragheenan (a seaweed) in a shallow tank. I then manipulate the surface with a variety of tools, similar to combs, rakes, or needles. When the desired design is achieved, paper (treated with alum as a mordant) is carefully placed on the floating pattern to transfer it to the paper, and then it is lifted, rinsed, and hung to dry. If the process is repeated on an already marbled sheet, overlapping and juxtaposed transparent layers of patterned color result. Marbled patterns can also be applied to fabric, clay, wood, and leather, as well as paper. I have even successfully marbled on x-ray film. To introduce drawn and painted imagery into my work, I have experimented with various kinds of cut stencils and liquid friskets. In too many instances I felt restrained by these traditional methods of masking the sheet, which seemed artistically divorced from the task of marbling. The pursuit of a more direct method led me to a technique that I call "integrative marbling," because it integrates drawing, painting, and marbling, and also preserves the integrity of the sheet of paper without resorting to collage. Rather than using a stencil to mask areas of paper, I remove parts of the wet marbled design with a brush, eraser, or even my finger. I construct (and deconstruct) a design without the laborious steps of cutting, applying, and registering stencils. This allows for my spontaneous creative reaction to images suggested in the patterns and colors themselves. Papers that I have prepared with a layer of acrylic gesso provide a durable surface that allows for rinsing and scrubbing. I can paint additional gesso or solid areas of color into the design and can over-marble these areas. A sturdy sheet of handmade paper holds up well to multiple dipping, rinsing, and drying. Most of my recent pieces are subjected to these steps at least ten times. Integrative Marbling is compatible with any number of artistic styles. For pieces like April Wedding and Satchmo, I work in an abstract mode. Experiments with this technique allow me to be more whimsical, as in The Patient, Weather Clown, and Three Bad Elvises. In these pieces, something in the marbling itself suggested the imagery, and subsequent marbling, drawing, and painting completed the work. I look forward to using this technique for some time to come, and doubt that I will ever exhaust the possibilities. As with marbling itself, the variations seem endless. I feel that by adding this technique to an artist's repertoire, the range of expression available to those who marble can be greatly expanded. I hope this article will encourage more papermakers to explore marbling and more marblers to experiment with handmade paper.