Nicely promoted scavenger hunt event at the NYPL


This is how you promote information literacy. That game playing thing you've been reading about.

I don't know much about how it will work, but I do know that it has been developed by the rather exciting Jane McGonigal.

It's quite exciting in a popcorn-trailer sort of a way. I will be playing along and thinking about the immense combined social impact of games and libraries. What is research itself – if not a game?

Find the Future

Free Bookbinding Workshop

Book-workshop-18th

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“bookbinding for beginners
Friday, 18th March
Bristol Central Library
11-4 (with lunch break)
 
Free (donation requested but not essential)
An afternoon workshop for adults teaching a simple clothbound hardback book technique with the Society of Designer Bookbinders’ Kate Holland.
 
Learn how to make a hardwearing and attractive book in the Central Library. Places are free but a voluntary donation towards the cost of materials would be welcomed.
 
Booking is essential. Please contact andrew.eason AT bristol.gov.uk , 0117 903 7202 to book your place”

Instant Books!

I'm teaching a simple class in bookbinding for kids. Just a few quick, fun, simple little bindings. I do hope that some people can make it. I realise that Thursday afternoon isn't the ideal time for everyone. I didn't specifically plan it to come out that way! Anyway the people at the children's library have been super good about publicising it, so fingers crossed.

More Jenkins- on interstitial art

Blammo. Dammit, I wish I had heard of Jenkins ages ago. The following excerpt pretty much arcs across where I’ve come from (‘What’s wrong with trying to define artists’ books?’) to where I’m going (“How can we help people find their own ways through media — or in some way support their own agency in doing so?”) So here’s Henry Jenkins from the linked page:

The Interstitial Arts Foundation: Essays: On the Pleasures of Not Belonging

Over the course of the 20th century, however, genre categories have become ever more specialized as media industries refine techniques for monitoring and targeting particular clusters of consumers. These more rigid and precise subgenres are the product of a more general tendency towards what anthropologist Grant McCracken calls “specification.” Subcultures break down into smaller subcultures, niches become smaller niches in an eternal dance between our desire to differentiate ourselves from and affiliate ourselves with others who share our tastes. There are more different categories of books, records, and films than ever before; all that diversity produces an anxiety that is being met by more aggressive policing of boundaries. Using more sophisticated tools, media consumers are trying to find the “perfect choice,” rather than taking for granted that a work designed for a general audience is going to contain some things we like and some things we don’t.

Go read. There’s lots more.

Dreaming By the Book:Elaine Scarry

Link: Amazon.com: Dreaming By the Book: Books: Elaine Scarry.

I have been reading from Scarry’s "Reading by the Book" about the power of the verbal arts (of narrative direction in particular), having read of the book in Marshal Weber’s Justice is Beautiful. I am still working on Turndust, and it seemed that it would be interesting to use the insight this book offers in conjunction with my artist’s book. The relationship between what I would call the haptic radar of the imaginary that narrrative offers, the staged directorial emphasis of book form, and book art is interesting. Though Scarry is speaking about written narrative exclusively, there is much in the way that books present narratives of imagining that still holds true in artists’ books. They remain directed experiences, directed unveilings.

Scarry’s writng about veils and transparency as being characteristic of the directed ‘perception’ of imaginary narrative is interesting. Books peel off layers of supposition, building solidity by the interface of many visual phenomena, many of which are rendered ‘transparent’ by the poetic echoes and ‘pre-echoes’ of the unfolding story. Page by page, narrative visual art builds the object for its audience. But this is stretching a point. Narrative artists’ books do something very much like this, but perhaps I need to modify the metaphor that gives my explanation its paradigm and hence its explanatory power. But I suspect that there are family resemblances between directed verbal narrative and its visual cousin. The actions of rhetorical construction are common to them both: although visual art offers something up to the senses, is the narrative of that visual artwork contained in the sensory material of its pictures, or in the narrative instructions they convey? But this is to risk confusing ideas and objects.

So far in my reading of Scarry’s work, she deals with objects, not the ideas of story. The ideas behind verbal narrative and visual narrative can be identical. The objects depicted are not. Except… I know that one of the things I want to do in books is to establish places and objects by looking at them again and again, changing their relationships one to another to set them up in an imaginary space very solidly, because here is a place where something will happen. (My model here is Sophie by Ral Veroni which does exactly this with some classical ruins. (Coincidentally, or not-so-coincidentally, it is printed on semi-translucent paper, which emphasises the continuation and relation of the seperate images. I have never recovered from seeing this book, whose impact I have been trying to recapture ever since.) But it seems to me that exactly this examination, this overlaying of one image atop another as we see it in artists’ book narrative, serves to create properly imagined objects in much the same way as the verbal arts.

Scarry’s book has motivated me to include a verbal prelude to my images in Turndust. One of the things I want to do with this is to carry the seed of the verbal into the visual. My images include writing in my handwriting, which is germane to the other autographic marks conveying the image. To me, I can see my hand in both. I want to open the vista verbally, using the metaphor of the wind, to carry the reader’s intention across the landscape’s solidity and texture. This experiment will, I hope, engage the reader’s intention in the text, then suddenly open this text visually. However, becuse both text and image are hand-drawn, Ihope to sustain ‘the realm of reading’ across the other surfaces of the book. I think that the comparison of images conjured to the minds eye by the verbal introduction, and those deposited and overlayed by my visual artwork will be instructive. I think that they both will serve to construct the narrative. But what is the phenomenology of this depositing and overlaying. I am insisting here on the persistence of the image in the book form. That they go beyond being optical surfaces to becoming narrative information that takes it’s place in the (artificially-constructed, imagined, and not perceptual) linear track of story. To this add the notion (again, I get this from Weber’s citations, this time of Anton Würth quoting Derrida ) that languages’ linear character is a displacement of the cognitive tumbling act that is really going on. [“Linearity is the displacement of multi-dimensional symbolic thinking.”] That multidimensional tumbling act is always the background to reading, and the poetics of the artists’ book are no less susceptible to it than any other narrative.

"Imagine the face of the world. Patches of warmth and coolness stir the air into currents, build columns and rivers of air and vapour that stroke and bathe the surface of the sea and the land. Air pushes through, an invisible phalanx that moves across the world from horizon to horizon. Sometimes violently, as when bark will split and trees crash down under its insistence. Sometimes tenderly, as when the petal of a flower is disturbed, or the head-feathers of a sparrow are perturbed. Stroking, pushing, tearing, You cannot see it. But you can see the clouds move. The crops move, stroked by the side of a hand, springing back from their bending in waves. the dust moves, the leaves are stirred, the stillness is gone. Now,/…"