Art and Books: End of Semester summary

As this is my final post for this subject, I think it might be fruitful to look back at what I've learnt this semester. The list everything would of course be an amazingly long task, but I think the most important points are as follows:

1. My definition of a 'book':

Throughout the course of this semester, I have developed and added to my understanding of ‘what is a book?’ Although there will never be a definitive answer, I believe the following points are essential:

•  It must be multiplanar, consisting of several ‘pages’. A book becomes so when the information it contains is divided into pages (in a book, or e-book) or into frames (in a scroll) etc.

• It must convey the information contained within these pages, or, in the case of a blank journal etc., it must have the potential to convey information. This information comes in the form of textual and visual elements. 
•    It must be functional. If a book is bound up so that it cannot be opened, it does not perform its function. If the form of the book obscures its content, it is no longer a book. 
•  In terms of a physical, ‘real-life’ book, its ‘bookness’ is defined by the way it is bound or held together. If the pages of a book are not bound (or held together in some way), then it ceases to become a book, for examples, the livres d’ artiste when they are presented as separate pages in a box does not become a book until it is bound. If the separate pages are framed and hung on the wall they no longer function as a book.
• In the case of artists’ books, the work may cease to function as a book and become more of a work of art. There are many variations of ‘bookness’ in artists’ books, and therefore they are almost indefinable.

If I have learnt anything during this subject, it is that the definition of ‘book’ is constantly changing, shifting, being added to, expanded, etc. Perhaps years later I may think of books differently, but for now, and as a result of my learning this semester, the above points remain true in my ‘definition’.

2. The evolution of the book and the factors that contributed to its changes.

There are so many elements crucial to the history of the book: from Egyptian scrolls and the development of different kinds of paper; to illuminated manuscripts in the codex format; to the development of the printing press which aided rapid circulation of books; illustrated books; mass produced comic books; artist’s books, which explore the boundaries of ‘bookness’; to the modern age of hypertext and electronic books. In my opinion, the development of the portable codex format, and the introduction of the printing press are the most crucial developments in book history, as they allowed the wide circulation and (relatively) cheap manufacture of books, and most developments  in the physical book today stem from those.  The electronic age of course is changing book history again, but that is something we are still experiencing. In years to come we may be able to further study and quantify the changes that hypertext and electronic technologies have made to the book.

3. The relationship between text and image in the book.

This has been one of the most important considerations in every topic throughout this subject, and has always been something I have learned a lot about. The relationship between image and text in books throughout history comes in almost every possible shape and size you could think of. Images can elaborate on the text, help one to navigate it, decorate it, illustrate it, they can stand alone as a narrative by themselves, they can highlight important ideas, they can be completely integrated with the text (as in comic books) or sometimes they can remain separate from it (I’m thinking of Matisse’s illustrations for Joyce’ Ulysses). Perhaps the most important way in which text and image can work together is to create the mood or atmosphere of a work. William Blake’s illuminated books work in this way, as do many artist’s books. This is when image and text work in harmony, and are no longer separate elements.

These three points are the ones that I would consider the most important, and are the concepts I have spent the most time thinking about, and writing about, this semester. There are still areas where I would like to improve my knowledge -  I would like to do some more work on comic books and graphic novels, for example, as it is a subject I had not really learned much about before this subject. Although I have studied children's books before and didn't study them this semester (because I chose comic books instead), I think I would like to revisit the topic, and examine it in the context of this subject. 

The most important thing I have taken away from Art and Books is, however, the inspiration to learn MORE. I always feel that I have chosen the right path for my career when I undertake an art history subject, as it fascinates and intrigues me. This subject in particular is one that I have been looking forward to for a long time, and having completed it, I feel motivated to go even further!

The artist's book in the twentieth century

In her article “The Artist’s Book as Idea and Form”, Johanna Drucker notes the existence of artists’ books throughout twentieth century art: “Artist’s books appear in every major movement in art and literature.” (p. 1) However, she notes that in order for this to be true, the definition of artists’ books must be extended to include journals and other forms of written publications (p. 8). Given the history of the development of artists’ books, this is important. After William Blake (see last week’s post), several avant-garde movements of the early twentieth-century utilized the book (or pamphlet, or poster) format to get across their ideas in a world increasingly reliant on print. These movements included (but are not limited to) Cubism, Futurism, Dada, and Surrealism. An example of an artist’s book from this time is Universal War by Aleksei Kruchenykh, an illustrated book with collage pages that is considered one of the more famous examples of Russian Futurist book production.

Aleksei Kruchenykh, Destruction Of Gardens, Collage #6 of Universal War, 1916

 Drucker notes that although the production of artists books continued throughout the twentieth century, it is particularly marked after 1945, or, after World War Two. This is when the artist’s book began to have “its own practitioners, theorists, critics, innovators, and visionaries.” (Drucker, p. 1) Postmodernism, Pop art and Fluxus are further art movements that utilise the book form. (Drucker, p. 8)

There are many reasons that artists are attracted to the book form as a means of artistic expression. From a purely practical viewpoint, they can be relatively low-cost to produce and to circulate, thanks to technologies such as printing. Drucker notes that this factor is especially important for “Artists with a social or political motivation for their work” who wish to gain a wider audience and are not as concerned with financial return (p. 8). Of course, this is not always true. As we have seen, some artists’ books, such as livres d’ artiste can be costly for the publisher and consumer. Another appeal that the book form holds for artists is that artists can use many different mediums in creating a work of art, and therefore “express aspects of mainstream art which not able to find expression in the form of wall pieces, performances, or sculpture” (Drucker, p. 9). In addition, the book itself represents possibilities not present in other mediums – the documentary nature of the book, for example, or the physical structure of the book, which can be modified, questioned, subverted, etc. The book form is highly versatile.

During this posting I have been attempting to flesh out some answers to the questions in our study guide relating to Drucker’s article. The final question I wanted to address did raise some issues for me: “Why is the form popular with some galleries?” Drucker notes that “...books are often produced on the strength of an artist’s capacity to generate sales, and books are a cheap sideline for many galleries.” (p. 9) I assume that this relates to facsimile editions of artist’s books that the gallery may have for sale in their shop, or even limited and multiple editions they may be able to market. However, in terms of an exhibition, what is the attraction of artist’s books? For one thing, I would have thought that in order to gain a true sense of what the work is about, how it ‘feels’, you would need to hold the work it your hands, physically use it, turn the pages etc. However, I can’t imagine this happening very often in an exhibition context, especially with rarer or more ‘famous’ works. I know that when we looked at illuminated manuscripts in a gallery context, they were shielded behind a pane of glass, opened at a particular page for people to gaze at. Of course, illuminated manuscripts are much older and (I would suspect) more valuable than artists’ books. I know that some library collections allow readers to ‘read’ artists books – hold them, turn pages etc. Perhaps some exhibitions do allow viewers to do this? In search of an answer to this frustrating question of which I have little personal knowledge, I went web searching and found this video on YouTube of the 2009 Florida Artists Book Prize Exhibition, and lo and behold, the viewers (or at least the assistants guiding the viewers) were handling the books, turning the pages, and using them as books are meant to be used. Mystery solved! In sum I would suggest that perhaps the appeal of artists’ books for galleries is much the same as a large proportion of contemporary art – it relies on participation and engagement with the viewer.

Sources:

Drucker, J., “The Artist’s Book as Idea and Form”, The Century of Artists’ Books, New York: Granary, 1995, pp. 1-19.

"2009 Florida Artists Book Prize Exhibition" [Video], Accessed May, 2011: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rv7d4wrxxtY

William Blake

William Blake, Frontispiece, Songs of Innocence and of Experience

William Blake’s illuminated books are considered by many as the prototype of the modern artist’s book. His works, such as Songs of Innocence and Experience, were made entirely by Blake (and his wife), using hand written text, illustrations and decorations. The reproduced prints were individually hand coloured (making each unique), and all of the poetry and text within was written by Blake himself. Thus books like Songs of Innocence and Experience are entirely his own production. This is what makes them comparable to artist’s books of today, which are handmade ‘books’ (and I do use that term loosely) made by artists.

The obvious difference between Blake’s work and many modern artist’s books (as discussed last week) is of course that Blake doesn’t question or explore the traditional physical structure of the book. He doesn’t make his works into sculpture-like pieces of art. Instead, what makes them an artist’s book is the extent to which they are decorated (text/image/decoration) and the fact that this was all done by hand. This perhaps makes them more comparable to medieval illuminated manuscripts.

Some historians compare Blake’s books with medieval illuminated manuscripts, as they are both produced by hand, and illustrated and illuminated in a similar fashion. Of course, as we have seen, many medieval manuscripts were in fact the work of several artists/scribes/illuminators in a production-line type arrangement, who catered to the patron’s individual needs, and who often borrowed their imagery and symbols from earlier examples. Additionally the texts in medieval manuscripts were usually reproductions (or personalised alterations) of existing texts. Nonetheless, one can see the following on of the tradition of illuminated manuscripts in Blake’s work – they are in fact illuminated manuscripts in their own right.

William Blake, "The Sick Rose", Songs of Innocence

There are many similarities between Blake’s works and medieval precedents. They both show the same careful attention to detail, intricate hand craftsmanship, and most importantly, the integration of image and text. This is the quality that is most praised in Blake’s work. The content of his poetry was reflected and elaborated on in his illustrations, and each page is conceived of as a whole. Lanier Graham notes:

How he was able to fuse words and images into such profoundly moving combinations, page after page, in waves of glowing color, is... [a] mystery... Very often his pages are flaming visions with the temperature of the flame reflecting the emotional condition of the subject. (p. 2)

While medieval manuscripts did not carry the integration of word and image quite this far, they did use image to elaborate on, highlight, navigate, or decorate the text. For me, Blake’s illuminated books serve as a kind of link between illuminated manuscripts and the modern artists’ book – both made by hand, but made in very different contexts.

Sources:

Graham, L., “Flaming Pages: The Illuminated Books of William Blake”, California State University, East Bay, 2006. Accessed May, 2011: class.csueastbay.edu/artgallery/ArtBrochure.pdf

Artists' books - first definitions

Water Yam by George Brecht

This week I have been looking at artist's books - what are they? What do they look like? What makes them different from other 'books'? My initial definition, before doing further reading, is below:

An artist's book is a collection of the artist's, thoughts, ideas, and interpretations, abstract or otherwise, represented through textual and visual elements. Often artist's books examine and address the physical, structural concept of the 'book' and subvert, or modify this in some way. Artist's books do not necessarily maintain a 'story' or chronological sequence of events or ideas, nor are they necessarily collective - however a theme or mood is usually consistent throughout.

However, after considering this definition and looking at several examples of works termed as 'artist's books' I am uncertain that everything fitting this description is necessarily a 'book'. Look, for example, at Water Yam by George Brecht (above). This is considered an artist's book. It consists of various groupings of text printed on separate, various sized pieces of card/paper, contained within a matchbox type container. I assume that this would be considered a book as it involves the grouping together of text on multiple planes with a common theme. Looking back at my first definition of  a book earlier this year, it would seem that this is indeed in accordance:

• It should be multiplanar – not necessarily separate physical pages, but also including blocks marked out in scrolls, or page separators in electronic formats.

• These planes should be linked by some sort of relationship, and should be gathered together to form a whole, and bound in some way.

• A book’s purpose is to convey its content. This can be done as creatively as you like, but if the form of the book – physical, graphically, or otherwise – obscures the content, it becomes art and is no longer a book.

Yet, the more I look at books, artist's books, illustrated books, and sculptures based on books, it is the binding that becomes important. When I say 'binding' of course I mean the way the pages are collected together. I think that they must be physically attached to one another, whether this be in the form of folds, like a concertina book, joined by their existence on the same sheet of paper, like a scroll, or bound in a traditional codex form. The livres d' artiste that we looked at earlier in the semester were often sold as separate sheets in a box, much like Water Yams. The important distinction, at least in my book (pardon the pun) is that those pages were intended to be bound together by the buyer. If they were framed separately, they ceased to be a book and functioned more as pieces of art or design. And of course that is another central issue about artists' books - some maintain the book form, and others are intended are works of art, more like sculptures than books.

So where does that leave us when it comes to artist's books? Certainly, some can be considered 'books'. Tom Phillips' A Humument, when displayed in its original entirety, or in the published fascimile editions is undoubtedly a book, albeit an 'altered' book. Published editions such as the 1970 version however, consisting of ten silk-screen pages presented in a box, no longer fits the description of a book. To take an example from our study guide, "An exhibit in an exhibition comprising a book that is bound up so it cannot be opened", in my opinion, cannot be considered a book as it doesn't convey the information contained within. Anne-Maree Hunter's Tower of Babel (below) may at first appear to be a sculpture rather than a book, but on closer inspection is actually a scroll, upended, and shaped into a tower. When unscrolled, the inner side of the paper tells the story of the Tower of Babel in several languages.Although Hunter explains that the text overlaps to indicate the confusion of the workers who constructed the tower according to the original story, if the text is still legible, I would definitely consider this a book because it is 'bound' together, conveys information, and has a common thread throughout.

Anne-Maree Hunter, Tower of Babel

I have come to the conclusion that not all artists' books are meant to function as books, nor are they even intended to be books. Some are purely sculptural. Some are functional. Some retain the textual capacity of traditional books. Clever artists like Hunter manage to combine all of these ideas into one work. Ultimately though, as indicated by the wide array of arguments and definitions of 'what is a book' and of course, 'what is an artist's book', the final decision is left up to the viewer.

Sources:

Grahame galleries + editions, "Stand 5 - Psyclonic Studios / Anne-Maree Hunter". Accessed May, 2011: http://www.grahamegalleries.com/category/fair/stand-5-psyclonic-studios-anne-maree-hunter/

Tom Phillips,  "Introduction to A HUMUMENT", Humument.com, 2008. Accessed May, 2011: http://www.humument.com/intro.html

Livres d' artiste

Livres d’ artiste are, essentially, books illustrated by well-known authors. This genre was introduced by Ambroise Vollard who, beginning with Paul Verlaine’s Parallelement illustrated by Pierre Bonnard in 1900, commissioned a range of texts illustrated by famous artists such as Picasso and Braque. Other art dealers soon followed in this trend. Livres d’ artiste were, and are, intended as collectible, limited edition, luxury items. They employ specialised printing techniques on high quality paper, and often left unbound so that the purchaser can frame or bind the pages as they desire. 

Traditionally, the reproduction of images in illustrated books was carried out by a master craftsman, not the original illustrator. In livres d’ artiste, the artist works in close collaboration with the printer, or works directly with the printing device. There also seems to be a different intention on the artist’s part in livres d’ artiste, in that they show a deeper engagement with the text rather than mere, literal illustration. William Cole notes that “Ideal illustrations do not merely reflect the text, but also the artist’s profound understanding thereof.” (1992, p. 379) Perhaps this is why Matisse, in illustrating James Joyce’s Ulysses drew scenes from Homer’s original Odyssey, in an attempt to show how Joyce’s chapters were loosely based on scenes from the ancient epic. On the other hand, it might just be that Matisse didn’t actually read Joyce’s work. One owner of copy of Ulysses signed by Joyce and Matisse explains that “Only about 12 exist, because Joyce realized during the signing that Matisse illustrated Homer's Odyssey and not the action of his book, and stormed off.” (Curran, 2009) 

Some illustrations from Joyce's Ulysses, illustrated by Matisse.

This episode highlights an important observation about livres d’ artiste: the prominence of the artist, who often overshadows the original author and text, and the contribution of the editor/publisher. In a review of several important exhibitions of livres d’ artiste, William Cole argues that

…they failed to tackle the main difficulty posed by these books: coming to terms with the intellectual and esthetic relationship between image and text… Considering textual questions in more than a cursory manner, furthermore, would take up untold pages of catalogue space, to say nothing of the time that would be spent actually reading the books. It’s far easier, of course, - for museums and collectors alike – to indiscriminately favor books by prominent artists… Simply stated, we systematically ignore an integral aspect of each book in particular, and of the entire genre in general. (1992, p. 380)

Cole also points out the undervalued role of the illustrator, as compared to the painter or sculptor who comes to illustration having made his name elsewhere. What sells these books is the name of the artist-illustrator, people who are household names, and whose illustrations, therefore, must be good thanks to the modern cult of celebrity. Cole notes with disapproval the tendency to “glorify artists over art, determining quality not by examining the product itself, but rather by looking at the signature it bears.” (1992, p. 379) This, of course, relates to almost all genres of art, not just livres d’ artiste.

A final thought must be given to the status of livres d’ artiste as books. Johanna Drucker notes that, in comparison with other artists’ books, the physical structure of a  livre d’ artiste is relatively conventional:

This is perhaps one of the most important distinguishing criteria of the two forms, since artist’s books are almost always self-conscious about the structure and meaning of the book as a form. For instance, the standard distinction between image and text, generally on facing pages, is maintained in most livres d’ artistes. (1995, p 4)

In summary then, livres d’ artiste maintain the traditional book form of text and image on separate, facing pages. Artists’ books are more likely to show an examination and subversion of the integral physical form of a book. One notable exception to this rule might be the way in which livres d’ artiste were often packaged: as separate, stacked pages in a containing box and wrapper, allowing the owner to frame or bind as desired. My argument would be that a livre d’ artiste remains a book if all the pages stay together, in order, bound or unbound. This way they can still convey the information they were intended to, all of the pages are related and form a whole. If they are taken apart, and pages are framed individually, this wholeness is compromised, information is not conveyed it in its completeness, and it no longer functions as a book.

Sources:

Cole, W., “The Book and the Artist: Rethinking the Traditional Order”, Word and Image, 8.4, 1992, pp. 378-381.

Curran, M., Various images of James Joyce’s Ulysses, illustrated by Matisse, 2009, Flickr, Yahoo!7, 2011. Accessed April-May, 2011: http://www.flickr.com/photos/abinka/3291706863/in/photostream/

Drucker, J., “The Artist’s Book as Idea and Form”, The Century of Artists’ Books, New York: Granary, 1995, pp. 1-19.

Text and image: the theatrics of Batman: Year One

This week I have taken a closer look at graphic novels. Graphic novels are, at their most basic, long ‘comics’ in book form with a more in depth storyline and usually dealing with more adult themes than comic strips.  Of the more famous graphic novels are those in the Batman series. Frank Miller created Batman: The Dark Knight Returns in 1986, remoulding the protagonist slightly as a more sinister, more violent, and more troubled hero than ever before, sometimes blurring lines of morality and justice (Sabin, 87). This continued with Batman: Year One, which told the story of Batman’s origins, and the reasons behind his vigilante crusade. As this is a graphic novel which I have ready access to, having bought it for my husband last year, I have decided to use this graphic novel to explore the relationship of text and image in creating theatrics within Batman: Year One. 

In his chapter ‘Comic Art: Characteristics and Potentialities of a Narrative Medium’, Lawrence Abbott spends much time discussing the physical use of text in a comic strip and its relation to the physical presence of the pictures, and also the use of text to control the flow of time in a comic strip. He also makes an important point about the submission of image to text in what is primarily, a medium that is ‘read’:

Of course, this subordination in no way reduces the importance of the comic art drawings, which can create images and enhance the narration with greater power and economy than words; it merely indicates that the comic art drawing, as a narrative element, must conform to an order of perception that is essentially literary. (1986, p. 156)

What I have found in looking at Batman: Year One is that, if taken as a primarily literary medium, the artwork within the comic strips acts as a visual representation of details that would be described if in prose form. In some cases this means that the story cannot function without the details provided by the pictures. In other cases, the narrative and dialogue elements are heightened by the effect of the pictures. This is what Abbott refers to when he notes the ability of the image to act with greater power and economy than words. This is especially true of the more theatrical moments within Batman: Year One.

An example of this is in chapter two, when Batman gate crashes a dinner  at which several council men and the corrupt commissioner are present. In the frames leading up to the page below Batman is seen preparing his dramatic entry. When it finally arrives, Batman speaks with poetic flair:

“Ladies and gentlemen. You have eaten well. You’ve eaten Gotham’s wealth. Its spirit. Your feast is nearly over. From this moment on... none of you are safe.” (Miller, 1987, p. 38)

The dark eloquence of Batman’s speech is admirable by itself, but combined with the artwork for these frames, it becomes something much more impacting. In the first frame, Batman stands against an indistinguishable background, shrouded in swirling smoke and surrounded by shadows. His frame is silhouetted against an unknown source of light, making his bat-eared mask and billowing cape all the more formidable. The next three frames are much shorter. They show the face of a waiter, and of Batman, uplit by the flames of a brazier as Batman reaches for the brazier’s lid and moves to put the fire out, arm still silhouetted. The final ‘frame’ is in fact an empty mass of black, as the brazier is put out and the room is plunged into darkness. This page can be taken as symbolic of the impending end of the councilmen’s’ corruption at Batman’s hands, and Batman becomes a dark and fearsome figure. The impact of this scene would have been nowhere near as dramatic if not for the artwork. Similar theatrical scenes can be found scattered throughout the novel, and combined with the dark palette used by the artist throughout, create a brooding, sinister mood in which Batman and the corruption of Gotham city thrive.

Sources: 

Abbot, Lawrence., “Comic Art: Characteristics and Potentialities of a Narrative Medium”, Journal of Popular Culture, 19, 1986.

Miller, F., Batman: Year One, New York: DC Comics, 1987.

Sabin, R., “ ‘Comics Grow Up!’: Dawn of the Graphic Novel”, in Adult Comics: An Introduction, London: Routledge, 1993, pp. 87-95