Artists Books

Harry Reeese

Artists Report

There are two artists I would like to write about for this artist paper. First is Julie Chen.  The thing I like about Julie Chen’s artists books are the way that the books are structured so that the viewers involvement is crucial to its viewing.  Her books, like the one we saw in special topics Ode to a grand staircase, are so intricate in design, the way the pages fold out, you are meant to see through holes, ect, that she is really relying in the viewer to handle the book and view it however they choose.  This idea of viewer interactivity is something I really like in a book. I know that books are generally meant to be held and read, but there is always a specific way to which the books are meant to be seen.  With Julie Chen’s book, that is not the case, there are so many different ways to view the book.  This is something that I tried to do a little in my book.  I really wanted the viewer to have to actually look at the book, play with it and try to see deeper into it.

The other artist I wanted to mention quickly is Raymond Queneau and his book, One hundred million million poems.  Again the thing I liked about this book is he really made the viewers role in this book crucial by having different stanzas under one another, so that you can peel one back and the poem is different every time.  In the future, when making another book and with more experience of making books I would like to do something more like both of the artists I mentioned above books.  I would like to make something more intricate, that people more so need to dive into and find a way to go about the book.  But for now I just dabbled with it.

by Tessa Tapscott

            Rolling contours, what appear to be windy hill-tops and grassy valleys are actually abstracted views of a horse’s body. Das Lied Akyn (The Song of the Akyn) by book artist Clemens-Tobias Lange offers an intriguing approach to the representation of the relationship between humans and horses. A relationship is nearly impossible to define, but has been the subject of many artists over the years. Lange works in collaboration with photographer Jutta Schwöbel and poet Cinghiz Aitmatov. Schwöbel’s work is centered around a comparison of the landscapes of Kyrghizstan and the horse’s physiognomy, Lange used her gelatin silver plates to print the imagery in his book. Aitmatov’s text is written in modern Kyrgyz, but with Old Uigur text; it tells of the Akyn, a rider that travels the land spreading news and customs to the nomadic inhabitants.

The book itself is made of several parts: a wooden box encases two longer folded signatures, separate from a bound book. The folded pieces can be unfolded completely to show very light prints on delicate, almost translucent paper. The sewn signatures are printed on what used to be blue handmade “China-paper”, but have been mostly colored brown on to which the equine imagery is printed.

Although I cannot read nor understand the accompanying poem, I can feel the power and grace of the horse and its importance to man. The subtle lines only hint towards the physicality, while emphasizing the way in which the horse is used to connect man to the earth.

This book especially influential in my own work that also focuses on this unique human and animal connection. I was deeply moved by the way Lange abstracted the horse’s body, rather than blatantly giving the audience the whole horse to deal with. I hoped to create a similar feel in my work, for this I used the monotyping process to create the illusion of fur. Each page will feature a different colored horse’s coat, from grey to palomino. With the idea of changing seasons in mind I wrote a text to accompany the imagery that describes my experience with my own horse growing and shedding his winter coat each year. The concept of time and change is something that has always interested me in relation to my horse; both the way we have each changed over time and in the way the essence of time seems to disappear when we are together.

Clemens-Tobias Lange’s enigmatic book has had a huge effect on not only this forthcoming work, but on how I relate my relationship with horses to art. It has shown me the beauty and power of abstraction in the creation of a concrete idea or feeling.

8 March 2012

An Analysis of Reflections on a Cardboard Box

When at UCSB’s special collections library, I was immediately drawn to an artist’s book titled Reflections on a Cardboard Box created by The Perishable Press Limited. It was put together in 2004 by Walter Hamady utilizing the writing by Paul Auster and illustrations from Henrik Drescher. The piece was initially very intriguing because of the paper that it was printed on and the obvious connection to the title. The book utilized two types of handmade paper to create a resemblance to cardboard. Auster’s narration describes the lifestyle of being homeless in New York and possibly living in a “cardboard box.” I found it interesting how the materials of the book created a parallel to the content of the writing. I thought it was very successful how all the decisions by the artists were calculated and served a purpose in creating a specific effect on the viewer.

Auster’s writings discussed welfare programs and how it can be difficult for people from poor economic standing to afford a house or even a roof over their head. He states how the government constantly maintains programs to keep the rich in their homes but fails to keep a stable program for the poor. On one of the pages he speaks to the reader by saying, “the next time you see a man living in a cardboard box, remember this.” He continues his discussion of the homeless by saying that the public views these people as having no money. And that this is so significant because everything in America revolves around money. Through his writing he illustrates how the regulations against being homeless are ridiculous and hypocritical. People profess charity but at the same time punish people for being too poor to afford a home. His overall message is that he just wants people to think about the concept of being homeless and the difficulties and struggles that come along with being poor.

Another major aspect of Reflections on a Cardboard Box is the fantastic prints by Henrik Drescher. These images are beautifully created and caught my attention before I even had a chance to read the textual information. He used polymer plate printing to vividly illustrate Auster’s writing about the homeless. The majority of the images are faces and heads drawn in Drescher’s notable unique style. The heads are juxtaposed together and placed in strange orientations on pages throughout the book. They are also printed on the book cloth on the outside of the binding. I also like how there is deliberate blank space and how it adds to the overall simplicity of the work. Overall I feel that Auster’s writing, Drescher’s artwork, and Hamady’s production combine to produce a very effective and unique artist book. I immensely enjoyed pouring over this piece, and I hope to utilize some of these ideas in my own work in the future.

With a career in Artists’ Books beginning in the 1980’s until the present, the books made by Charles Hobson vary greatly in their aesthetics, structures, imagery, mediums and processes used; however, they are unified by his consistent balance between the physicality of the books he makes and the original writings that he responds to. Nearly always using writing as the starting point for his works, his books contain several genres, from short stories to poems (as in “The Writer,” which I will be discussing), and letters (as in “Adam & Eve” and “Flaubert & Louise”). His treatment of these writings is distinguished by his careful and intentional book structures and imagery which are not only beautiful but multi-layered – adding metaphor, complexity and often a sense of temporality to the text as the book is experienced by the reader. His use of a variety of image-making techniques also subtly points at the distinction between image and text themselves and the way that both work as one in the reader’s process of understanding and gathering meaning from a piece of writing.

Opening the box to “The Writer,” a book of Richard Wilbur’s Poem, I was surprised to find instructions on ways to approach the reading of the book, which not only included a signature book with imagery on vellum pages and cut-out shapes, but an additional flip-book with additional imagery and selected words from the poem. However, as I read through the books, the structure that he created gave not only movement to the cut-out images of a starling flying, but a sense of passage of time as well. And as we experience the temporality of the images, they are experienced in tandem with our understanding of the poem, adding metaphorical meaning not only to the literal meaning, but to the written text as image itself. Looking through the additional flip-book, it becomes so clear how image and text work simultaneously in our understanding of narrative, meaning, and the very act of reading and writing itself.

Hobson has used the form of letters of correspondence in a handful of his books, notably his first work “Flaubert & Louise,” which draws not only from original letters, but additional fictionalized responses to those letters, and adds monotype print imagery in addition to his book form. Like most of his books, “Flaubert & Louise” is made in a way that suggests the greattraditions of book-making (hard cases and covers, sewn-bindings, heavy papers etc.), making the writing both glorious and precious. However, he does not go so far as to make his books deterrent to the reader; his structures not only make the work inviting but encourage the reader to take the time the truly read and understand the narratives. Here, he interrupts the series of letters by creating a separate portfolio for each correspondence (again adding a sense of time passing), but by also adding hand printed imagery and protective paper sheets, forcing the reader to slow down and pay attention not only to the words themselves, but to the entire narrative, and meaning structure that he has created to work along with it.

In relation to my own work, I admire the relationship he has with the text that he works from, not just to create a physical work that reflects and enhances the intent or meaning of the original writing, but in adding even more layers of depth and interpretation while still retaining a respect for the writing itself. As a lover of both of writing and of books themselves, I see myself creating books that feature my own writing, but I also strive to do more than simply act as a self- publisher. Though my aesthetic now is very traditional, I would like to become more involved with book arts to allow myself to explore more ways of using imagery and structure to enhance my writing.

Henrik Drescher Report

Artists’ Books

Henrik Drescher is a Danish artist, illustrator, and bookmaker.  He immigrated to America in 1967.  His work includes illustrations that have been featured in publications like The New York Times, The Washington Post, Time, Newsweek, and Rolling Stone. Drescher attended The School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston for one semester before dropping out to become an illustrator.  He is best known for his children’s books in which he playfully uses silly poetic text and collage and doodle style drawings.

Drescher’s work is distinct for its fantastical content and quirky style.  He works almost exclusively by hand, only using the computer for adjustments and scanning.  Hendrik’s illustrations are usually born out of his work in notebooks and journals. His drawings and paintings often include strange renderings of anatomically exaggerated creatures.  The distinction between people and animals is often unclear in his illustrations.  He works in black and white as well as color to create surreal and vivid images that stick in one’s head long after they have been seen.  These drawings and paintings have appeared in galleries, been sold to various people and publications, but are most successful and exciting in the form of Drescher’s children’s books.

Henrik began making children’s books in 1981.  He started making books for kids because he “like(s) the idea that books have a life of their own after they’re published, making their way into people’s lives and weaving connections between (him)self and readers”(hdrescher.com).  Lothrop Lee & Shepard published his debut book, The Strange Appearance of Howard Cranebill, in 1982.  Later that year, it won the New York Times Best Illustrated Book award.  He was also awarded the same title for his books Simon’s Book (1983) and The Yellow Umbrella (1987).  Drescher’s illustrations for these books are so successful because they seem to come straight out of the limitless imagination of a child.  When there is text, he interprets it in a way that not only accompanies the story, but magically weaves a story of his own.

In his other bookworks, his spirited characters and stylistic choices remain but are mixed in with more nuanced and mature touches.  This change in audience provokes more eerie compositions of Henrik’s strange figures juxtaposed with texts and delicate prints.  The effect he creates in his artist books is dreamlike but with a dark undertone.  For example, in his collaboration with Paul Auster, Reflection on a Cardboard Box, his illustrations give a disturbing extra layer to the text.  Reflection on a Cardboard Box is Paul Auster’s lamentation of poverty in America.  The essay focuses mostly on New Yorkers and discusses different living situations and the housing market.  Auster writes, “A man does not live in a cardboard box because he wants to…You live in a cardboard box because you cannot afford to live anywhere else”.  The book was printed onto brown paper reminiscent of cardboard and Drescher illustrated the essay with polymer plate prints of houses and faces.  The subtle link between the cardboard box referenced in Auster’s text and the aesthetics of the book and illustrations created a unique form.  The result is Reflection on a Cardboard Box as a fascinating book that creates a narrative with a visual parallel that sucks you into the world that the author and illustrator creates.

Henrik Drescher’s fantastical books and illustrations can be imaginative dreamlike images from the mind of a child or strange and chilling reflections on the true issues of our time.  Whether an illustration in The New York Times or a children’s book such as Runaway Opposites, Drescher can be depended on to create eclectic images that accompany the text while telling a story of their own.

Barbara Tetenbaum established Triangular Press in 1979 and has been printing books under that name since then. She is currently a professor at Oregon College of Art & Craft in Portland, OR. Although I have not seen any of Barbara Tetenbaum’s other works, analyzing Black Ice and Rain was enough for me to realize that she truly is a praiseworthy artist. Without even opening the book, the unique black and burgundy color, as well as the soft, silky texture of the book cloth made me very curious about the rest of the book. Every small detail, such as the indentation bordering the title drew more of my attention. With high expectations, I opened the book and was not disappointed. By including a couple pages of the paper collages in between the pages with text really gives the viewer a unique experience. Feeling the two different textures of the paper, hearing the faint crackling sounds while turning the page, and seeing the dark blue tone of the paper as light shines through allows the involvement of different senses.

The two primary reasons why I am so keen about this book is because it uses handmade paper and because it is so simple, yet so successful. Because I am also using my handmade paper as a part of my book, I was able to relate to Barbara Tetenbaum’s book. Just like the blank, black pages in Black Ice and Rain, I decided to leave my handmade paper undecorated for the viewer to fully experience the distinct qualities of handmade paper and to appreciate it. Also, I have decided to keep the content of my book simple because it then gives the viewer a chance to focus on the details of my book, just like how I was able to do so when viewing Black Ice and Rain. Ultimately, I want people to realize the beauty of the handmade in comparison to commercially made objects.

I have never been someone drawn to reading lengthy books for pleasure. And lengthy, to me, is a number that stretches beyond 600 pages. A book that will stay by my bedside for the next month and a half can, oddly enough, become a chore towards its last pages. However, Raymond Queneau’s Cent mille millards de poèmes (or One Hundred Million Million Poems) is an exception. It’s not a novel in the sense that a single narrative carries itself through each page, but a book that is intimidating in a much more unique way. In the foreword, John Crombie describes it as, “…a book more talked about than read, or even flipped through.”

Before, Queneau had combined computer science and literature when he created a multiple-choice tale, Un conte à votre façon, which enabled the reader to form their own reading from many possible choices. Also, Queneau was inspired by a children’s book in which assorted figures could be crossed with one other at different levels on the body to produce a new figure. He brings the same practice in an amplified form to this book.

The book contains ten well-crafted sonnets with each line on an independently turnable strip to the line underneath it. Each sonnet had to comply with strict rules. The rhymes could not be dull or too unusual and each sonnet had to have a theme and apparent existence of its own. Most importantly, the grammatical structure of each sonnet had to be identical if the reader were to be able to follow any of the 1014 possible combinations of the lines.

These rules have constructed, in theory, something unreadable. From the author, “Allowing 45 seconds to read one sonnet and 15 seconds to turn the strips, at a rate of 8 hours per day, 200 days per year, the reader may look forward to over one million years of reading; or, reading around the clock 365 days per year, to 190,258,751 years, give or take a few hours (and disregarding leap years and other trifles).”

I see this work not as a lengthy, unconquerable book, but as a machine to create something truly unique and I feel that it was meant as such. I have always been intrigued by ideas of potential and Queneau has encapsulated these ideas of mine well. I will remember the concepts of this book in creating future objects of my own.