I PATCH

I PATCH is a one-off 14 x 14 cm concertina book made up of ten panels. Each panel consists of a typewritten text in the form of a square measuring 9 x 9 cm. The front and back covers are made of foam board covered with navy Japanese Washi Paper onto which is sewn sixteen hand-stitched squares. Inserted in between the foam board and Washi paper is wadding for a padded effect to create the illusion of a patchwork quilt. Each panel of the concertina consists of handmade paper joined together with a strip of paper measuring 1.5 cm in width. Each side of the strip is hand stitched to one side of two panels. This strip is the bind as well as the fold, which creates the extendable concertina structure. The book is packaged with a pink satin ribbon.

The form plays a part in conveying its concept, as the concertina form draws attention to the craft element of the bookwork through the use of hand stitching. This particular bookwork looks to tie in all elements of book form, which includes the physical form of the object and the form of its content. The squareness of the bookwork both outside and in is made to resemble the square patches of fabric to be found on a patchwork quilt. The title, I PATCH, is not only reflected in the patchworks of the front and back covers but also in the square patches of text within the bookwork. The text is laid out in the form of a square block of text, which visually marks a square patch. It is surrounded by a white border, which further draws attention to the squareness of the text and the object.

The exposed stitch work and binding, hand-cut panels and typewritten text are each a record of production. Stitching and binding are a record of the craft methods employed during the making of the book. The unevenness of hand-cut panels marks the process of production, as does the use of a manual typewriter. The typewriter is a particularly interesting instrument to use as it stains the page with not only letters but also accidental streaks from the ink ribbon. As a writing device it is successful in capturing all the elements of a production process, as mistakes cannot be erased and rewritten. As a manual device the markings are reliant on the artist using it; depending on the pressure placed on the typewriter keys, some letters will imprint the paper darker than others. Equally, each page is fed into the typewriter by hand which means that some words may appear out of line with others. Each of these aspects captures moments of making and to borrow Ulises Carrión’s term; the bookwork becomes ‘a sequence of moments’.

The content is a crisscrossing dialogue between the artist, the book and the reader. It is a dialogue that records the thought processes in those moments of production. Therefore, in the same way that the book form has been constructed as a record of a production, the content also documents aspects of this process. However, instead of a physical record, the text is a mental note that taps into the psyche of the artist at the time of production, to create a bookwork that captures these external and internal processes of making.

Until now there has been no activity on this blog - only there has been some activity, just not on blogger. During this time there's been some book making, amazingly just in time for the what-it's-september-already-i-need-more-time September deadline.

Pop-Up Letterpress Studio

For one week in September 2009 there was a letterpress machine available for public use at 'the maker-difference pop-up letterpress studio' by Cockpit Arms and SORT in Newburgh Quarter, Carnaby Street. I got to use a letterpress for the first time and printed text on to a lovely little book, courtesy of SORT. The letterpress man was friendly and extremely helpful and told me that sometime in the near future SORT plan to run letterpress workshops from SORT HQ! Excellent news!

So I'm having to consider what I mean when I say "artist's book".

Today I'd like to think of it as
when the book as subject is the art rather than when the subject of the book is art.

Recently there have been some interesting finds in my mailbox. This is rare.

Last week came a note that read:

you look like a blade of grass with 4 incisors sticking out of the sides. it has no legs, so it obviously hops around with no feet. This means that balance is an issue, but it's fine, because this is kept constant by its own homeostasis system. It never falls over, but it can do. If it does, it has to wait for the wind to push it back upright again. This can be quite troublesome in the summer, when wind is at a minimum. It has no arms because its a blade of grass so when it wants to eat, it must turn to the side and use its incisors to mash up food, it then lies on the food, and then the necassary nutrients enter the blade of grass by diffusion and osmosis through the partially permeable memebrane that forms the outer layer of the blade of grass. It has a small brain positioned just behind its bottom left incisor. the end.

Yesterday came this:

It's the latest publication from the WET INK PRESS. A book for John Sparrow. Put together and bound by Becky Cremin with contributions from all at WET INK HQ.

Yesterday I bought an old Victorian Flat Iron. I've been looking for one for a while now. Despite not being fond of laundry I can't wait to use it.

I've been reading up on the Flat Iron and apparently Flat Irons were used in pairs so that one could be used whilst the other was being heated up. As one iron started to cool it was switched for the other. The irons were either placed face up in front of open fires on stands known as trivets, or they were suspended over the fire using hangers. So I guess I need a pair before I can really start using the Flat Iron. The laundry will have to wait! Just until I find another one which may be a while as this one was hard to come by.

The Idea as Book : The Book as Idea

I've been meaning to do a write-up of a seminar I chaired at the ICA earlier this month in association with MA Poetic Practice, but I've been putting it off as my transcript is sketchy with a lot of gaps. The seminar entitled, The Idea as Book : The Book as Idea, took place on the 14th of July and looked to interrogate the artist’s book in relation to ideas of conceptual art and concrete poetry. It was part of a series of events tying in with the current exhibition Poor. Old. Tired. Horse. which takes an imaginative and expansive look at text-based art practices from the 1960s to the present day.

The aims of the seminar were to explore the limitations and the potential of artists’ books with regards to the book as space, the book as self-reflexive, the book as performance and the book as process. It drew upon past and present examples of book art, conceptual art and concrete poetry in order to foreground the ever deepening cross-over between these art forms. Members of the panel included Redell Olsen, Allen Fisher, Mark Pawson, Elizabeth James and Kate Gallon.

The following was discussed: "Space" as public and private and the 2D/3D relationship between a work and how you view it. The social formations thought to be missing from the show. Typewriter works looking old-fashioned yet possessing a nostalgic quality. Redell Olsen referred to Lilian Lijn's 3D sculpture, Sky Never Stops, as a type of book, a "cone book" in fact. Like a book it invites the viewer to read it but in a way that requires the viewer to be aware of his/her own physical presence as well as the presence of the moving cone. Both object and viewer are moving and participating. We talked about books not only referencing spaces/sites but via their materiality they can very much hold a site too. I guess an example of this would be Dieter Roth's Daily Mirror. The "preciousness" of the art object was also brought up and in particular the issue of allowing artists' books to be handled. Suggestions about their display and distribution were also made. Ed Ruscha's Information Man was mentioned but I can't remember in what context.

If I were to take one thing away from it, it would be the concept of space in relation to the book, that is, the book as an object made up of pockets of space as well as the book as an object occupying a space. Some did say that they didn't think it useful to discuss the book and space, but I'm interested in Ulises Carrión's play with space in relation to the book. It's potential is limitless and that's not just in conceptual terms but in actual physical terms. How people choose to use the book is obviously interesting as is the space in which it is made and then stored or displayed. During the discussion Allen Fisher pointed out Carrión's book Tell me what sort of wall paper your room has and I will tell you who you are, a book that comprises of a selection of wallpaper pieces with labels such as 'Living Room', 'Bedroom' and 'My Friend's Room' overprinted onto each page. Each page references an external space collated into the space of one book. Carrión moves you from space to space / place to place, each individualised as the reader turns the page and feels the uniqueness of the textured wallpaper. I think it's important to bring up Carrión's work as concrete and visual poetry did play a part in his break with literature in a more traditional sense. He also emphasised the close relationship between poetry and artists' books, insisting that poets were responsible for opening up the way to such bookworks.

A big thanks to the panel and everyone who came and to those who helped and read and re-read my list of questions just days before the event.