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Book Art Theory

Capitalizing on the interdisciplinary nature of the field, this blog calls attention to criticism and theory about the book as a medium and/or subject in works of art and, more generally, about book art. It seeks to encourage dialogue, solicit comments, and create a generative space for new ideas from critics and theorists of various fields regarding the aesthetic, semiotic, haptic, cognitive, historical, and other features that distinguish these works and their function in ethical, political, and social matters.

To contribute to the list of underrepresented voices in the book arts, see CBAA Book Art + Social Justice Resource List.

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  • 14 Dec 2024 12:02 PM | Susan Viguers (Administrator)

    When I started out at my first art book fair, I had 3 books on my table and made basically nothing while tabling for 4 days. But I spent a lot of money on amazing books, met a bunch of artists who would become great friends, and immersed myself in a space full of bookmakers. I learned a lot at my first few fairs: what worked (well-made books), what didn’t (anything too big), and the importance of community. At the fairs I asked a lot of questions of other vendors, talked with as many people as I could, and tried to have fun, even when it was slow and boring.

    Community

    I stress the community aspect of art book fairs because the connections you make with other vendors and fair attendees are often more meaningful than sales.

    Being A Good Tablemate:

    • Talk to the people tabled next to you.
    • Know to shut up (and give them space) when someone is stopped and looking at books on their table.
    • Don’t play loud music, movies or games on your phone.
    • Don’t be obnoxious.
    • Be respectful of space.
    • Don’t block other vendors’ tables while talking with your friends.
    • Trade and buy their books.
    • Help out if they need to leave their table for a minute.
    • Share food and drink with them.

    Community Is Important:

    • Talk with other vendors.
    • Ask them about their books and previous fair experience.
    • Follow them on social media.
    • Swap business cards.
    • Do trades and buy their books.
    • Sign up for email lists.
    • Send librarians and collectors who stopped by your table to neighbors’ and friends’ tables.
    • Go to the after party. Approach publishers you recognized from the fair and say hi.

    Trading Or Bookswapping:

    Trading your books with other bookmakers is a rite of passage at art book and zine fairs. While not everyone will trade books, most will. The best way to find out is to simply ask and have a copy of the book you are willing to trade with you.

    I’ve found that this is one way to both connect to other publishers and not spend the money you’ve just made selling your own books. In How to Art Book Fair I include this quote from Michaelis Pichler about equal swaps, and not paying in books. I think it gets at the heart of what makes art book fairs unique: participating in a gift economy while also still participating in the broader market economy.

    Please note: a friendly book swap is always one-on-one. That is, a swap between publishers, artists, or authors where one book is exchanged for another. Ideally, both parties have a choice, and are swapping their own books. Exchanging one big book for three small books is “paying in books” (not a friendly book swap).

    — Michalis Pichler, “Book Swapping & Seriosity Dummies” in Publishing as Artistic Practice

    Building Community After the Fair:

    • Do follow-up emails. Follow back people who followed you on social media.
    • Do studio visits with other bookmakers.
    • Include their books in exhibitions you curate.
    • Share their books with your friends.
    • Interview them for podcasts or your zines.
    • Stay in contact. Show them around your city when they visit.
    • Also, don’t forget to take a photo of all the cool stuff you got and tag the fair. This is a book fair staple. Photograph your haul, tagging the books you’ve traded and purchased.

    Upcoming for the Fourth Edition of How to Art Book Fair

    Bad Trends In Art Book Fairs:

    Charging to apply: The Capital Art Book Fair and the New Jersey Art Book Fair have both started charging to apply which I think is a problem. Publishers pay to participate through their table costs; they shouldn’t also have to pay to apply. This is double charging people. I understand that reviewing applications takes time, but these costs should be a part of your table costs. Hopefully this won’t become a trend, because this could reduce the diversity of participants.

    Door Entry Fees: Ticketing is necessary for queuing people for both health and safety reasons, but please keep the entry price low so that it doesn’t affect sales. Art book fairs are more democratic than other art fairs in that they sell to the general public as well as collectors, libraries and museums. When you buy a ticket for an art fair, you are usually going to view art, whereas with an art book fair, you are going to view, connect, and purchase.

    Printed Matter’s model of a ticketed opening night for collectors of rare books generally works. That said, I’ve found that opening night events are usually the worst for sales, as the event becomes more of a party and place to be seen.

    Good Trends In Art Book Fairs:

    More diversity. Break areas for vendors. Free food and drink for vendors. Volunteers to watch your tables. Overall, a focus on the vendors’ wellbeing. This began, in my opinion, in 2019, when some fairs saw new leaders and actively addressed complaints from vendors. All (good) fair organizers care about health and safety, but the pandemic really made those concerns part of a great experience.

    Successful art book fair organizers balance what makes a great event for bookmakers and attendees. Having a crowd is important, and organizers should make every effort to introduce and popularize artist books in their city and arts community.

    Paul Shortt is an artist, curator, and educator based in Florida. He makes signs, books, videos and social practice with a bit of humor. As the creator of How to Art Book Fair, Shortt has participated in over 50 national and international art book and zine fairs.

  • 01 Dec 2024 12:00 AM | Susan Viguers (Administrator)


    I had been participating in art book fairs for about 4 years, when I started to realize that no one was really writing about selling books. During my research, I discovered that while many books provided guidance on making books, none focused on selling them. Specifically when it came to artist books. At this point, I had participated in the Printed Matter Art Book Fair in both New York (NYABF) and Los Angeles (LAABF), sharing a table with a friend for a couple of years. My sales were very poor in the beginning, mainly because of a low price point. Over time, I began improving my sales and made more connections in the art book community. Inspired by this progress, I decided to create a how-to guide for participating in an art book or zine fair. 


    In 2018, I purchased my first Risograph printing machine. For years, I had sent my books to be commercially printed, but now I had immediate and direct access to produce them myself. In the past, I had made a few publications as handbooks or guides, but most were playful and didn’t really teach anything. I worked on the How to Art Book Fair text over the course of a couple months, then reached out to Christopher Kardambikis (Papercuts, George Mason University printmaking chair) for feedback. After incorporating his suggestions, I posted on Facebook about creating the guide and added some practical and playful advice from others. I designed the book in Illustrator and InDesign and printed the first 16-page version on whatever paper I had in my studio, producing a small edition of 100.At that year’s NYABF, I distributed copies to friends and other publishers—some of whom had contributed and others I thought might offer feedback for future editions. This first version had an immediacy to it, just getting the idea out there. As I often do with my publications, I continued refining it, paying more attention to quality and construction. 

    HTABF Second Edition (2019)


    For the second edition, I concentrated on both my retail experience and the practicalities of sitting for six to ten hours selling books. What do you need? How should you engage with attendees? How do you make the event work for you as an artist or bookmaker?

    Having worked in retail for more than a decade (Gadzooks, Sunglass Hut, Pacific Sunwear, and the Gap), I was used to selling products, so art book fairs felt natural to me. Instead of selling camisoles and jeans, I was promoting books, concepts, and ideas. I understood that every person walking by was both a potential customer and a chance for meaningful interaction. At any art book fair, the hope is your book will find its way into someone's home, a library or collection. Artists shouldn’t feel bad about selling and making money from their books. It’s incredibly difficult in most art fields to make money and have a middle class life. Books such as Be Oakley’s Publishing Now: GenderFail’s Working Class Guide to Making a Living Off Self Publishing attempt to start discussions about this. 

    These interactions often influence the work itself. Once, someone asked if I had any prints or books that weren’t negative. At the time, my table showcased a series of “No prints,” so the comment resonated. A year later, I began developing a more positive series, though still tinged with humor and irony. That newer direction remains central to my practice today.

    Engaging directly with an audience is one of the great things about being at an art book fair. Oftentimes this audience will be artists and bookmakers themselves, but with the diverse audience that attend art book fairs you will also encounter people from all fields who will give you insight you won’t find in your studio. Sometimes that insight will be how they engage with your books, or how they don’t.

    How to Art Book Fair video

    During this time, I also created a video adaptation of How to Art Book Fair. Leah Mackin, who teaches print and bookmaking at the Rochester Institute of Technology, had a project called Internet Art Book Fair, a web-based platform that, in many ways, anticipated the shift to virtual events during the pandemic.


    In the video, I sit at a table alone, pitching my book while growing frustrated as no one approaches or shows interest. The piece functions both as a promotion for my books and as a standalone work, capturing the loneliness that can accompany art book fairs. The video stands apart from the book, because it addresses in real time the boredom, tedium and frustrations a tabler can go through at a book fair, while with the book I try to remain practical and positive. 

    Marlene Obermayer, the founder of Das Kunst Buch and the Vienna Art Book Fair, became a strong advocate and secured a grant to bring me and a few other publishers to the first Vienna Art Book Fair. There, I performed a live version of my video, dramatically pitching to an empty table and eventually overturning its contents.


    The second edition debuted at the 2019 Printed Matter NYABF and the inaugural Vienna Art Book Fair. Over the next four years, it was sold primarily through Printed Matter and my website. In 2020, I added a one-page sheet titled How to Virtually Art Book Fair on one side and How to Table Post-COVID-19 on the other, which I included with book orders. These additions, along with other notes I had jotted down over time, would later inform the third edition.

    HTABF Third Edition (2023)


    With each edition, my goal is to expand the content and incorporate more diverse perspectives.

    Ingrid Schndall, who runs IS Projects (now the Miami Paper & Printing Museum) and organizes the SPF fair and Tropic Bound in Miami, contributed insights not only as a fair organizer but also on launching and running events with an international focus.

    I’m especially grateful to Ingrid and Marlene, as their perspectives reflect the modern art book fair scene—deeply embedded in their local communities while actively engaging with the global landscape. They leverage extensive networks to create vibrant and inclusive events.

    Like many art books, distribution poses challenges. I was fortunate to work alongside Cynthia Connolly, a curator and self-publisher of Banned in D.C. since the 1980s. I first met Cynthia as a young artist in Southwest Virginia (Floyd, Blacksburg, and Roanoke), so it was rewarding to collaborate and learn from her DIY/punk-inspired approach to publishing. One lasting lesson from her is the importance of self-distribution and keeping your work in print. Personally, this is important to me because in my early twenties I made comics but failed to get the work out. In the early 2000’s it wasn't as easy as it is now to create, share, distribute and share your works. It's much easier now, but no one is going to get your work out for you.

    Through international distribution via Antenne Books in the United Kingdom, my books are now reaching a broader global audience. I make my books, not just for an insular art audience or institutions, but for the general public. I’m aware that in How to Art Book Fair, I’m presenting a perspective on art book fairs in the west. My hope is that as the book is available globally, more global perspectives will help shape it.

    My primary aim with this guide is to support bookmakers and help them thrive. To that end, I offer educational discounts to teachers and class packs for students at a reduced price. I’ve also tried to maintain the book being priced low. The first version was $10 and the newest is $12, even as the book has more than doubled in size. 

    I’m currently working on the fourth edition of How to Art Book Fair, and I welcome any advice or suggestions!

    Part Two of this post will share excerpts from How to Art Book Fair, including the forthcoming fourth edition.


    Paul Shortt is an artist, curator, and educator based in Florida. He makes signs, books, videos and social practice with a bit of humor. As the creator of How to Art Book Fair, Shortt has participated in over 50 national and international art book and zine fairs.

  • 15 Nov 2024 12:00 AM | Susan Viguers (Administrator)

    I had planned to write an article that would act like a love letter to artworks that are not technically books but feel bookish to me; instead, given the results of the election, I have been constantly reminded of the topic of my final paper for an art history class I took recently on Contemporary Chinese Art. The topic I chose was Zines and Collective Identity in Hong Kong. 

    In that paper, I argued that zines provided an exceptional platform to create community, share individual experiences, and build a collective identity worth fighting for during the Anti-Extradition Law Amendment Bill (Anti-ELAB) protests in Hong Kong in 2019. By examining Save Hong Kong Ourselves, Self-Help First-Aid, 自己香港自己救, 自己受傷自己救 by Yan Yu and 咸濕 (Salty Wet) by T▇▇謝▇ (Tiffany Sia), I discussed the dissemination of counter-hegemonic perspectives and the way that zines are uniquely equipped to provide information while creating connections that embolden and unite individuals. These zines and others that were produced during the recent Hong Kong protests were uniquely positioned to fight for democracy and against censorship because of the role zines play as democratic multiples written by the people and for the people.


    Image courtesy of the author.

    Prior to 1997, Hong Kong did not have a notable history of large protests, other than the demonstration in 1989 after the Tiananmen Square Massacre. From the signing of the Sino-British Joint Declaration in 1984, announcing that Hong Kong would be returned to Chinese rule in 1997,(1) up until the transfer of power actually occurred, the threat of monumental change intensified for Hongkongers, exponentially. Although many people living in Hong Kong are ethnically Chinese, the history of Hong Kong followed a path that diverged greatly from the mainland, making the prospect of reunification a tense subject when considering the disparities in the collective identities of Hong Kong and mainland China. I argued that the impending countdown created a pressure cooker environment, leading Hong Kong to solidify a more definite identity for itself and its people in that interim. When the incident at Tiananmen Square happened in Beijing in 1989, the act of both protesting and specifically supporting pro-democracy movements naturally took root in the DNA of Hong Kong. 

    It is then no surprise that this foundational aspect of Hong Kong’s identity featured so prominently in the citizens’ reactions when faced with the Extradition Law Amendment Bill in 2019. By that time, the territory was no stranger to protesting, proving that the collective identity of Hong Kong was strong and thriving. The most prominent protest prior to 2019 was the Umbrella Movement in 2014. It was during this 79-day period that political zines started to play a considerable role in Hong Kong, further shaping the collective identity of the citizens. Many makers chose to create zines in tandem with this major movement as a way to draw on the rich global history of zines being used for activism and expressing dissent, particularly in fights for women’s rights and LGBTQIA+ rights.(2)

    One of the most notable differences with the Anti-ELAB movement when compared to earlier protests was the immediate and continual dedication to decentralizing the movement. The phrases “no central stage” and “be water” became paramount, (3) encouraging participants to have autonomy and allowing for more flexibility to respond to the situations they were met with. By creating an environment where citizens felt like any form of involvement was helpful to the collective, the production of communications, publications and artworks took shape through posters, photographs, drawings, infographics, and zines that were distributed both tangibly and online. Tong Kin-long, a scholar of Hong Kong zine history, contextualized the importance of zines taking on topics of protest and identity when he stated, “zines are beyond a resistive text that challenges mainstream narratives. They are also an important tool for artists to communicate a version of the self to cope with the trauma of state violence.”(4)


    Image courtesy of the author.

    It is that idea of claiming stake in a collective identity and actively asserting aspects of that identity for the good of the collective that has been on my mind over the past few weeks. I have heard a lot of talk (primarily from privileged white people) of leaving the U.S. because of the upsetting election results and it is my opposition to that mentality that has most reminded me of the Anti-ELAB protests because if those protests show us anything, I hope that it is how important every person’s actions are. Wanting to separate your identity from your demographic and, instead, be seen as “one of the good ones” does not exempt you from being part of that collective, so instead of distancing yourself, (speaking to myself and other white people) I hope you find ways to shift the collective identity. I hope we can all find ways to fight for democracy, kindness, and community; in smaller ways like creating zines, and in larger ways like getting involved in community organizing.

    Works Cited:

    1. Ackbar Abbas, Hong Kong: Culture and the Politics of Disappearance (Minnesota: the University of Minnesota Press, 1997), 3.
    2. Adela C. Licona, Zines in Third Space: Radical Cooperation and Borderlands Rhetoric. (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2012), 2.
    3. Nam Kiu Tsing, Hongkongers’ Fight for Freedom: Voices from the 2019 Anti-extradition Movement (Leiden: Koninklijke Brill NV, 2023), 32.
    4. Tong Kin-long, “Overcoming Fear: The Representation of State Violence in Hong Kong’s Protest Zines during the Anti-Extradition Law Amendment Bill Movement,” in Violence in Art: Essays in Aesthetics and Philosophy, ed. Darren M. Slade, (Chicago: Inara Publishing, 2022), 3. 


    Beth Sheehan is an artist currently living in Tuscaloosa, AL. She teaches paper, print, and book workshops around the US and virtually. She co-authored the book Bookforms. Sheehan has also worked as a professional printer at Durham Press and Harlan and Weaver and was the Bindery Manager at Small Editions.


  • 01 Nov 2024 12:00 AM | Susan Viguers (Administrator)

    The Miami-based community printshop and book arts studio IS Projects, established by Ingrid Schindall, just celebrated its 10-year anniversary. As part of that celebration, they officially announced a name change and several exciting new facets that are ushering in the next era. Now known as the Miami Paper & Printing Museum, the studio will continue to offer many of the fantastic opportunities and amenities it has been providing to the thriving South Florida art community for the last decade. These include workshops, print club meetings, studio rentals, artist residencies, events, and more. But now the Museum also includes dedicated galleries for the museum’s permanent collection and contemporary exhibitions, as well as a store to purchase supplies, tools, artist books, prints, and many other incredible goodies.

    Contemporary wing of the new Miami Paper & Printing Museum. Image courtesy of Ingrid Schindall.

    The store inside the new Miami Paper & Printing Museum. Image courtesy of Ingrid Schindall.

    In a state where the accessibility of information has seen more and more restrictions recently, IS Projects becoming the Miami Paper & Printing Museum feels like a deliberate assertion of the important role that history, information, and art all play in creating an open, inclusive, and kind world. As part of the transformation, I curated an exhibition in the newly christened Permanent Collection Gallery: the bathroom. My goal for this exhibition was to provide viewers with an engaging and informative overview of the history of papermaking and printing. In organizing and installing this exhibition, I continuously came back to thinking about how much information is edited, culled, manipulated, erased, rewritten, and re-presented in our contemporary lives. Information is purposefully erased or made harder to access with things like the book bans in Florida and the Anti-DEI Senate Bill 129 in Alabama, but in addition to these targeted acts of erasure, information can often be erased to make it more comprehensible, to create more streamlined narratives, or to fit into the spatial limitations of museum galleries.


    Inside the Permanent Collection gallery of the new Miami Paper & Printing Museum. Image courtesy of Beth Sheehan.

    The information that is included in exhibitions and publications by prestigious institutions routinely perpetuates biased and selective information about art, participating in echo chambers honoring the knowledge of the critic or scholar, rather than the knowledge and experience of the maker or non-academic. Work is being done to consciously and ethically undo some of the harm caused by that process as people fight to decolonize museums. But plenty of important information will still inevitably be left out of museums in favor of trying to make the information understandable to audiences that may not have specialized knowledge in the given topic, and in favor of fitting the “most important” information into the space the museum has available.In its new incarnation, the Miami Paper & Printing Museum is trying something different.

    Inside the Permanent Collection gallery of the new Miami Paper & Printing Museum. Image courtesy of Beth Sheehan. 

    It might seem humorous to house a museum (at least partially) in a bathroom, and it is, but when Schindall approached me about curating the show in the bathroom, I was immediately overjoyed by the idea because it seemed to be such a wonderful way to make information accessible. Museums have been contentious places in regards to accessibility; ideally they are places that provide everyone equal access to knowledge and culture, but when collections do not include diverse artistsentrance fees bar people from entering, and people feel that contemporary art is too hard to understand without didactic information, art museums stop being places that people feel welcome. So, by placing the MPPM permanent collection exhibition (one that includes diverse artists) in the bathroom (no entrance fee), anyone can close the door (for a… “private viewing”) and spend any amount of time that they want (or need) looking at the exhibition. My hope for the space is that it will make going to museums less intimidating and that it will prompt people to think about alternative ways history, knowledge, culture, and art can be shared. If you were to make a museum that showed people how impactful and empowering your artistic medium can be, what would you include? How would you make that space more accessible? More engaging? More inclusive?


    The Tactile Wall of the new Miami Paper & Printing Museum. Image courtesy of Beth Sheehan.

     

    Beth Sheehan is an artist currently living in Tuscaloosa, AL. She teaches paper, print, and book workshops around the US and virtually. She co-authored the book Bookforms. Sheehan has also worked as a professional printer at Durham Press and Harlan and Weaver and was the Bindery Manager at Small Editions.

  • 15 Oct 2024 11:21 AM | Susan Viguers (Administrator)

    Similar to the first edition of  Why We Love Books, the second communicated a range of ideas about the preciousness of books as both conceptual and physical objects that readers, writers, librarians and artists connect with deeply. The projects tapped into the myriad reasons that people love books as objects of infinite possibility, expression and knowledge. For the second edition the participants shared memories of their first book ever read or made, offered confessions about disliking altered books, and considered whether or not writing in a library book is ever okay. The format of the workshop was instrumental in this exchange; as participants moved around the room in game of musical typewriters, each sheet loaded into a machine became a potential conversation. Writers could allow previous responses to shape their thoughts or they could start fresh with a new sheet. The prompts, which were written in collaboration with members of the guild and meeting volunteers, were more much specific for this project, and the materials were limited to sheets of paper and typewriters. This allowed participants to really focus during our hour-long session. To be more inclusive, prompts encouraged contributors to consider a range of experiences, from literary to creative. Many contributors were book artists, but many were also librarians, writers, curators and avid readers. 

    These were the prompts for the second volume paired with a favorite selection of responses:

    1. Describe, in detail, the first book you ever made. 
      Before I could read, I stapled my drawings together and gave them to my mother. Book after book after book.
    2. Which bookmaking activity do you like best, folding, gluing or sewing? (Follow up: which one do you hate most?) 
      GLUING IS HIGH STAKES. Folding calms me right down, sewing makes me feel productive and industrious.
    3. What kind of book or art materials would spend a lot of money on? 
      I spend my money on the triangles. I love the triangles so very much. All the triangles. 
      This response was followed by: 
      I love that answer. I’m the same way about triangles, especially brass ones. I’m not allowed near a leather seller. :) Triangles and squares are lovely, but I have to add paper. PAPER!
    4. Is there a book that you like to keep with you? 
      A sketchbook, a book for lists, a book of debris that is not always useful.
    5. What is a book you’ve read over and over again
      I’m such a cliché because I read over and over is the Great Gatsby. Gaaaaaaaatsby, Old sport.
    6. Would you ever draw or write in a library book? 
      I would NEVER write inside a library book! I also don’t like to make altered books. They are creepy and sort of horrifying, though I realize that many people don’t agree with me and have a lot of fun “recycling” old books that way. Which is why I keep quiet about this opinion and don’t sign up for any altered books workshops.
    7. Do you keep journals or sketchbooks and would you ever share them in public? 
      I have shared my sketchbooks in public. It was kinda okay.
    8. Which story do you remember most vividly from childhood?/ Which author or artists have influenced you? 
      Margaret Atwood and Audrey Niffenegger. 
      And, 
      i had a book called 100 dresses and i think it’s why i enjoy thrifting so much.
    9. What would the most mysterious book in the world look like, smell like, feel like? Would it be heavy or light? Large or small? 
      70% imagery. 30% text. has a lot of funny jokes. Measures 6” in height. Some pages open out into 3D models of different things that represent cultures. 
      And, 
      Your face is on the cover. The plot is the opposite of every choice you’ve ever made. But it ends the same.
      And, 
      The most mysterious book will change every time someone reads it. Sometimes it would be big, sometimes it would be tiny. Sometimes it would smell sweet.
    10. The typewriter asks, “Do you have any questions for me?” 
      Do you like being attended by nimble fingertips? What does a typical day look like? Where are the exclamation marks? Do you feel obsolete? 
      As the curator of this collection, I can identify several common threads from the responses. First, it seems that books are highly valued objects, whether we make them, write them, collect them or read them. Secondly, it seems that many book artists fell in love with making books as young readers; there is a clear connection between being an avid reader and becoming a book artist. As most people are first exposed to literary books and only later learn about artists’ books, this trajectory sheds light on the unique ways in which our community of practitioners has developed, examined, and expanded this rather recent genre of contemporary art. It’s interesting to think about how book arts will continue to to evolve as society’s relationship with the book as an object changes over time.


    Rachel Simmons is an artist and educator from Orlando, Florida who makes artist books, comics, zines, and prints. In her creative practice, she explores environmental and social activism, science, philosophy and memory. She teaches book arts and printmaking at Rollins College and serves on the board of CBAA. You can find her work at www.rachelsimmons.net and follow her on instagram @bearwithjetpack. 

  • 01 Oct 2024 12:00 AM | Susan Viguers (Administrator)

     

    Why We Love Books, designed, edited, and bound by Rachel Simmons, June 2024. A collaborative one-of-a-kind artist ’s book created with typewritten participant responses, risographs, and stab bound with metal rivets. 5.125” tall x 10.75” wide x .5” deep. This book is 77 pages long and printed on French paper.

    Why We Love Books is a collaborative community book arts project I organized for “Critical Reading,” the CBAA annual meeting I co-hosted with Ben Rinehart at Rollins College, June 7-9, 2024. Over 30 artists, librarians, and book enthusiasts contributed to the pages of this book by responding to a set of prompts developed in collaboration with participants. Each prompt was displayed on a different manual or electric typewriter (including a rare IBM Selectric with three fonts) and participants were invited to type their way around the studio, embracing the unique experience of working on typewriters and giving themselves permission to leave typos behind as a record of authentic, in-the-moment reflections. Everyone wrote together in the studio, creating a symphony of fingers hitting typewriter keys and accompanied by ringing return chimes and happy chatter. This environment shaped their energetic and thoughtful responses, which were often in dialogue with one another.

    After the responses were submitted, I gathered the pages to trim and edit (without correcting typos) and collaged them over a variety of vivid risograph patterns. The vibrancy of the backgrounds echoes the dynamic qualities of the writing and bring focus to each writer ’s voice. After scanning all 77 pages, I bound them together with metal rivets in a stab bound book with a wide pattern. There are two digital copies available for download, one with the pages turned horizontally for better viewing, and one where the pages are set vertically for easier printing on a US letter sized sheet. Contributors are welcome to download, print and reproduce these files.

    I created the first volume of this book in 2019 in collaboration with members of the Book Arts Guild of Central Florida. In that version, I asked contributors to respond only to the prompt, “Why We Love Books.” We each contributed a collage and typewritten folio to what ended up being a very long leporello. In the two hours we had to finish our folios, we worked primary with found collage elements which allowed us to explore visual representations of why we love books as well as through writing.


    Rachel ’s folio from the first edition of Why We Love Books, 2019

     

    Rachel Simmons is an artist and educator from Orlando, Florida who makes artist’s books, comics, zines, and prints. In her creative practice, she explores environmental and social activism, science, philosophy and memory. She teaches book arts and printmaking at Rollins College and serves on the board of CBAA. You can find her work at www.rachelsimmons.net and follow her on instagram @bearwithjetpack. 

  • 15 Sep 2024 12:00 AM | Susan Viguers (Administrator)

    Over the weeks since my last post, and as I continue to teach my undergraduate introduction to literature and film analysis in Spanish, I have been introducing my students to figuras retóricas or rhetorical devices. Rhetorical devices are technical vocabulary associated with the production of various forms of writing in order to give it greater depth, beauty, and expressivity. These devices include the basics that most of us are very familiar with such as: alliteration, analepsis, hyperbole, metaphor, simile, etc.

    Rhetorical devices are more than technical embellishments used to demonstrate a writer’s skill. On the contrary, they are tools used to construct new structures to convey new meanings. Therefore, the utilization of these tools structures the form of content in such a way that it constructs and conveys new meaning. In this way, the employ of these techniques as exercises can lead artists—whether writers, painters, or book artists—to experiment with new formats of presentation, as well as lead them to explore new discoveries, and create new content. 

    As I have been reviewing and providing examples of each of these and other meaning-making devices to my students, I have reflected upon their potential significance if applied as theoretical frameworks or guidelines to create artist books.

    What if hyperbole, a form of extravagant exaggeration, was the parameter for the creation of an artist book? Every aspect of the book would have to be pushed into some form of exaggeration. Paper with an extreme amount of tooth. The sewing on the binding would have to be so elaborate that it would have to be recognized as an essential part of the book. The printing exaggerated in such a way that the work is potentially unreadable or readable in multiple formats, printed in multiple directions, producing a shifting prism of potential readings.

    Shifting gears to something a little more radical, how could the use of hyperbaton, the alteration of idiomatic word order—exemplified by the way that Yoda talks in Star Wars movies, where “Do your judge me because of my size?” becomes “Judge me by my size, do you?”—influence the creation of a work of book art? This transposition of word order as a framework for a book could inspire some really topsy-turvy work. For example, a book where the binding and cover are in the middle of the book with the pages all around the outside. Or a book with only pages and no cover at all. Perhaps even a book where the binding is along all the edges with each page opening up in another direction from the center out.

    What of metonymy, or the use of a figure of speech in which the name of one thing is used to stand in for another of which it is an attribute or with which it is associated? Recently Levi Sherman, in his August 15th 2024 Book Art Theory blog post People as Books / Books as People, examined several ways in which discourse surrounding book art reflects this metonymic perception of the book as body, individuals as books, books as stand-ins for their creators, libraries standing in for their collectors, and libraries as multitudes. Another possible approach would be to create a book work where everything used in the book had to be a metonymic reference to another object, the book itself would then be assembled of parts that all referred or alluded to something else, and never to the ultimate question that could be perhaps posed as a riddle: I begin where the story ends, my life in your hands it depends. What am I?

    What about the use of alliteration, or the repetition of similar sounds at the beginning of two or more words or within them—which also includes assonance: alliteration with vowel sounds, and consonance: alliteration with consonant sounds—as the premise for the production of an artist book. This could be a book where all the materials used to create it all share a similar consonant or vowel sound in their name. It could equally be a book where every page or part includes the deliberate repetition of some sound motif (in this way it could also be an example of synesthesia where the repeated sound motif is presented by means of a very tactile medium to bring both the sound and the haptic sensation together).

    Finally let me propose the use of anaphora, the repetition of a word or expression at the beginning of a succession of phrases, clauses, sentences, or verses for not only rhetorical or poetic effect but also for the purpose of emphatically highlighting the particular reiterated element. Such a work that made use of this technique could begin on each page with the same phrase or visual element that grounds or iterates continued reflection upon the material presented upon that page as well as upon each succeeding page.

    These ideas are just to suggest that while book artists are frequently aware of the book-ish nature or their creations, perhaps there is another book-ish aspect, one that has been there since hermeneutics began, that has been overlooked or underappreciated as a potential source of creative concepts, of inspiration, to construct their works. Just think about what could be done by employing:


    Phantom structure: When the second line of the first stanza becomes first line of the second.

    Cesura: A pause or break in a line of poetry that mimics the natural rhythm of speech.

    Antiphrasis: The usually ironic or humorous use of words in senses opposite to the generally accepted meanings

    Chiasmus: An inverted relationship between the syntactic elements of parallel phrases


    Apophasis: The raising of an issue by claiming not to mention it

    Dysphemism: The substitution of a disagreeable, offensive, or disparaging expression for an agreeable or inoffensive one

    Dialogism: A disjunctive conclusion inferred from a single premise

    Acrostics: poetic composition in which the initial letters, read vertically, form a name or a phrase.


    Blank verse: Poetry with regular meter but no rhyme

    Onomatopoeia: Naming a thing using a world that makes the sound like the thing.

    Oxymoron: The combination of contradictory or incongruous words.

    Kennings: A figurative phrase or compound word is used instead of a simple noun.


    Antiphrasis: An ironic or humorous use of words in an opposite sense of their meaning.

    Red herring: Misleading through irrelevant diversion.

    Tautology: Unnecessary repetition of meaning using different words to say the same thing.

     

    Peter Tanner teaches Spanish Language and Literature at Utah State University and is Editor of Openings: Studies in Book Art. He has a Ph.D. in Latin American literature, an MA in Latin American Art History, and a BFA in Painting and Printmaking. His research focuses on artist books from Latin America.

  • 01 Sep 2024 12:00 AM | Virginia Green (Administrator)

    Over the last few weeks, I have been begun a new semester of teaching an undergraduate introduction to literature and film analysis. My students are learning how to talk about, in Spanish, the various cultural currents and trends in the last century in Latin America. Recently we discussed the following basic questions:

    Why do we as human beings tell stories?

    Why do human beings make art?

    When we talk about art what are we talking about? What is your definition?

    Here are some of my students’ responses for your consideration:

    1. We tell stories because they teach basic lessons in a fun way.
    2. Humans create art because it is fun, and it is a good way to express our emotions.
    3. When we talk about art we are talking about other people's creations.
    1. I think the reason why we tell stories is because people can read the stories and know more about the world and the lives of others.
    2. A reason why I think humans create art is to express emotions. When a person cannot say things with words, a person can express it with art.
    3. When we talk about art, we are talking about the perspectives that art reveals to us. Each person has a different idea and perspective on art.
    1. I believe we tell stories because we need to know the history of human beings to know what can help our problems today, and what won't help.
    2. I believe that human beings create art because it is a type of communicating with people on a more directly human level.
    3. Art for me is an expression of ideas, emotions, and stories shared by other humans in a type of communication that is more personal than just directly telling someone the reason why something happened. This way you can discover what others have experiences by looking at their experience through their creative expression.
    1. We tell stories to remember and show people's different experiences. They show and help you to learn lessons. We tell stories to know people's perspectives. It helps to have empathy.
    2. I believe that human beings create art to express opinions and emotions on specific topics.
    3. I think that to be an art form it must be a creation that expresses opinions or emotions. Art is a way to show your ideas. It is a way of perceiving the world.
    1. We tell stories to pass information and experiences to other people. We tell stories so that we can connect with other people and so that others can understand more about us.
    2. I think that human beings create art to express themselves. That means expressing feelings, opinions, and understandings about the world that they live in and the experiences they have as well. It is a way to link thoughts in physical form so that others can also understand something about the artist.
    3. When we are talking about art, we are talking about an artist's way of expressing themselves artistically, that is, in a different and unique way that is their own way.

    These seemingly simple questions have inspired the creation of many a tome of poetry and prose, as well as countless texts regarding the interpretation and meaning of artistic works within their discursive and historic milieu. These same questions are important for us, as makers of art and as interpreters and critics of art, to rehash from time to time.

    I think for some of us it has been years since we have thought about these questions that have defined our lives.

    I would love to hear your thoughts, based on your experiences, to see if in all of our collected experience with art creation, art history, art criticism, we have established a more nuanced understanding of the reasons we do what we do.

    Perhaps when we ask questions such as “Why do we as human beings tell stories?” “Why do human beings make art?” and “When we talk about art what are we talking about?”, we might as well be asking why we breathe.

    If we stop breathing, we’ll die. If we stop making, discussing and writing about art, our individual worlds would die. Is it really that heroic or is there something else?

    Let me know what you think.

     

    Peter Tanner teaches Spanish Language and Literature at Utah State University and is Editor of Openings: Studies in Book Art. He has a Ph.D. in Latin American literature, an MA in Latin American Art History, and a BFA in Painting and Printmaking. His research focuses on artist books from Latin America.

  • 15 Aug 2024 12:00 AM | Susan Viguers (Administrator)

    Many artists’ books explore the metaphor of the person-as-book or the book-as-person. There are the common clichés (to read someone like a book) and the shared anatomical vocabulary (spine, shoulder, head). At a deeper level, if we believe that a book enables communication between reader and creator, then it would seem to embody the creator in some way. And as the biblical reference in Johanna Drucker’s The Word Made Flesh (1996) suggests, the incarnated book is nothing new. Rather than offer a theory of the book-as-person, this blog post is exploratory: I survey works of contemporary art that deal with books, and especially with libraries, to see how the metaphor has been used.

    Individuals as books

    If we are told not to judge a book by its cover, it is because the analogy between books and people goes deeper than the spine or shoulder. After all, every person has a story. Perhaps the Human Library Organization has gone furthest in realizing this version of the person-as-book.  While not framed as art, their events “where readers can borrow human beings serving as open books” to “have conversations they would not normally have” share obvious parallels with social practice art.[1] Tellingly, the organization’s slogan is “unjudge someone.” Artist duo Rebecca French and Andrew Mottershead instead lean into first impressions in their take on the human library book: Borrow Me (2006). The human books are tagged with labels like “sleeper” or “gossiper,” and, as expected, they perform versions of these stereotypical behaviors that one might encounter among library patrons.

    Books as their creators

    Just as people can stand in for books, so too can books stand in for people. For his first sculpture, Pense-Bête (1964), Marcel Broodthaers entombed the remaining copies of his final poetry book in plaster to signal the death of his literary self and the beginning of his career as a visual artist. Publication and person are also equated by Thomas Hirschhorn in his monuments to philosophers: Spinoza Monument (1999), Deleuze Monument (2000), Bataille Monument (2002), and Gramsci Monument (2013). Each of the increasingly complex public works includes a library of works by the philosopher, which viewers can read.

    Libraries as their collectors

    Thus far, we have dealt with the analogy between books and their creators. But books can also represent their collectors. Anyone who has felt proud, or more likely self-conscious, as a guest examines their bookshelves will sympathize with Craig Dworkin’s The Perverse Library (2012). Having enumerated his entire collection, Dworkin can project an imagined book that would, in some way, represent himself: “a 48-page perfect-bound volume by Clark Coolidge [New York: Sun & Moon, 1982]. No such book actually exists; its details are merely the projection of a statistical mean.”[2] Buzz Spector’s exhibition and book, Unpacking My Library (1995) similarly investigates how the organization of one’s books represents them — with a nod to Walter Benjamin’s essay of the same title.

    Dworkin and Spector bare their own libraries, but others are more interested in the voyeuristic (or scholarly) appeal of other people’s books. Abra Ancliffe’s Personal Libraries Library (2009–) recreates the libraries of influential thinkers and makers, and allows readers to check out the books. The idea that you can learn something valuable from someone’s library had led Anne H. Young to argue that artists’ personal libraries should be preserved as writers’ often are.[3] An example of one such project is Donald Judd’s library, perfectly preserved in Marfa. I would argue that its digital presence (you can virtually browse every foot of shelving) combined with its physical presence (where viewers are not allowed to browse) are as much a monument as anything by Hirschhorn. Robert Smithson’s library has also been saved, and furthermore, is the subject of artist Conrad Bakker’s Untitled Project: Robert Smithson Library & Book Club, an impressive series of painted book surrogates.

    Libraries as multitudes

    For Dworkin, Spector, Ancliffe, and Bakker, the library stands in for an individual. But if a book can represent a person, then one can also see the library as a collective of many people. This is, indeed, the logic behind many memorials and monuments. Yinka Shonibare’s British Library (2014) is an installation of more than 6,000 books bound in the artist’s signature Dutch wax fabric. Many of the books’ spines are stamped with the name of immigrants or prominent opponents of immigration. The blank books are meant to represent future migrants. Shonibare’s follow-up American Library (2018) and African Library (2018) replicate the installation format but also include websites with archival documents and additional information about many of the people represented on the shelves.

    Using a similar logic, Rachel Whiteread's Judenplatz Holocaust Memorial (2000) is in many ways the opposite of Shonibare’s libraries. It is devoid of color, anonymous, and signifies loss. The memorial is one of the best-known libraries in contemporary art, but it is preceded by Micha Ullman’s The Empty Library (1995). Both are voids that resist would-be readers — Whiteread turns her library inside out, as if it is a negative space cast from an absent positive, and Ullman’s empty shelves are sunk beneath the street, extending meters underground. A plaque added later to Ullman’s memorial bears the most infamous analogy between people and books: “That was but a prelude; where they burn books, they will ultimately burn people as well.” It is worth noting that Heinrich Heine wrote these words a century before the holocaust, and it is therefore no surprise that artists have used libraries to memorialize other conflicts.

    Wafaa Bilal’s participatory installation 168:01 memorializes the University of Baghdad’s art library, which was burned during the 2003 US invasion. With rows of uniforms white books representing 70,000 lost volumes, it is through participation that the analogy between a person and a book is made. Donors can exchange one of the blank books for a new book requested by the university faculty. One book — one donor — at a time, the blank library gives way to culture. Another poignant work about a lost library derives its impact through the analogy of the book as person: Emily Jacir’s Ex Libris (2010–12). Jacir’s book presents books from the Jewish National Library in West Jerusalem that were looted during the 1948 Arab-Israeli War, the Nakba. By photographing the handwritten inscriptions from the books’ frontispieces, often gifts from one person to another, Jacir reminds the reader of the individual behind the book.

    Bilal and Jacir memorialize conflicts that destroyed people and books alike. However, the fact that both artists were drawn to the library shows how wrong it feels when books are assaulted. It may be unsurprising, then, that the analogy between the destruction of books and people can be reversed. Mohammad Sharaf’s installation The Cemetery of Banned Books (2018) envisions a mass grave of books to criticize the banning of 4,300 books in Kuwait. The rectangular tombstones echo the shape of a book, and each is inscribed with a title and stamped with “Banned in Kuwait.” The installation was, predictably, dismantled by the authorities.

    1. The Human Library Organization. “Unjudge Someone,” May 1, 2024. https://humanlibrary.org/.
    2. Dworkin, Craig. The Perverse Library. York: Information as material, 2010.
    3. Young, Anne H. “Preserving Artists’ Personal Libraries: Providing Insights into the Creative Process.” Art Documentation: Journal of the Art Libraries Society of North America 35, no. 2 (2016): 339–51.

    Levi Sherman is a PhD student in Art History at the University of Wisconsin–Madison and the founder of Artists’ Book Reviews.

  • 01 Aug 2024 12:00 AM | Susan Viguers (Administrator)

    The fine arts world, to be quite frank, looks down on books and printmaking as a creative medium. They’re strongly and obviously tied to commercialism (though we can look to the beautifully decorated Sistine chapel and remind painters that Michelangelo too was paid to promote the church’s agenda), and for an artist who is used to spending hours on a one of a kind piece, the idea of an edition—with each copy an original work of art—is antithetical to how they operate. Still, as easy as it is to understand their logic, it doesn’t make the pill any less bitter to swallow. And it doesn’t solve the problem of printmaking and book making as skills going under-acknowledged and under appreciated. Fortunately for this, we live in a time where humanity is more connected than ever.

    My first experience with the internet was through media fandom, a portmanteau of the words fan + kingdom. Think of fandom like sports fans; there are many levels of obsession but ultimately it’s a group of people excited about a mutually loved piece of media. Online, people will share (fan)art and (fan)fiction based on the original stories and characters, as well as musings, theories, and breakdowns of the source material, all for free.

    What does this have to do with book arts?

    I engaged with fandom using my graphic design skills to layout “fanzines.” The name is archaic as the modern fanzine is more artbook than zine, but the communal collection of art and stories has strong ties to historical zinemaking and printmaking history. And it’s through these spaces I learned that there is a real hunger for that history in younger artists who might not have access to a more traditional art education. Outside of fanzines, artists create casebound books out of fanfiction to show off online that captivate people, and digital artists share fledgling attempts at linocut with familiar pink Speedball Easy Carve and a cheap set of tools. People want to express their love of someone’s work through their own creation, and do so even with the most basic knowledge gleaned from youtube tutorials or elementary school art projects.

    This is the space I want to share my work. To that end, I have created Threadhunters, a comic that utilizes traditional printmaking to create comics. Think Frans Masereel, only instead of wordless woodcuts I am utilizing multiple printmaking methods and digital typesetting before running it through offset lithography, in the tradition of classic American comic books. The book, for this project, does not matter so much as the tools I’m using to create the mark and tell the story. But the story and the art will draw attention and curiosity to the methods being used. It will generate discussion and interest in creation, and as someone who is interested in passing on the tools of the trade, I can help guide younger artists in how to safely use these tools and engage with the larger historical narrative they’re taking part in.

    I also take part in these spaces because of their accessibility. Young people (and many other people, but my focus here is on those still growing up) cannot afford our expensive, handmade books. And as a storyteller, I focus on giving people the language they need in order to express themselves, especially in matters such as gender identity and mental health. Language that I myself did not have growing up. It would be almost hypocritical of me if I did not seek out a way to share my stories in as accessible a way as possible. And the internet in general creates a way for me to share this comic and similar stories widely and freely, both by hosting it online for free and offering print on demand copies for $10 versus the $40+ of the traditionally printed and bound copies.


    Threadhunters (v.1, p. 13) offset lithography

    The internet is not an easy place to translate a book, but neither are formal gallery spaces. For me, it’s more important to share the story, as well as the mechanical process of creation, than it is to show off a beautifully put together codex that can’t be touched because it’s under plexiglass. There is space for both, but I have learned that the internet and the people who desire to learn are far more accommodating and far more interested than traditional spaces. 

    Icarus Key is a recent MFA graduate of the University of Arts. He hopes to use printmaking and narrative storytelling to empower the next generation to tell their stories and engage meaningfully with the community around them. His work will be updated on instagram at @happysadyoyo.

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