Recently I’ve been trying to answer questions about my creative process the best I can - both during my Paperiaarre Office Hours live and last Monday when I spent a few hours chatting with Sarah of Ink and Awl discussing artists’ books on Instagram live (the recordings of these live events disappear after 24hrs so do follow me on Instagram if you want to make sure you don’t miss any future chats). I feel my answer to that question about what my creative process looks like would change almost daily. Artists’ book often come such a long way from what we even normally consider a book and the trail that leads us there is quite unique to each artist and each artists’ book. That’s what makes artists’ books so interesting. And that’s why this is going to be a very long blog post - I hope you still read it until the very end.
One question I keep running into is “how is that supposed to be a book?”. The way to make an artists’ book that is “book enough” is completely in the hands of the artist. You probably shouldn’t tell an artist their artists’ book isn’t a book, as it really is up to the artists to make that decision - and it’s up to you to respect it and to approach the artwork as a book even if at first you’re struggling to see it as one. You may end up finding a lot of book-like elements once you start paying attention to both physical and conceptual layers. If you don’t - fine, but do play along at least for a while and try to see what the artist’s intention was.
Artists’ books often have a playful aspect to them and they invite you to see the world from a slightly unusual angle. At best they are deeply personal, truly informative or expressive. Sometimes all three. I adore the intimate personal ones, but honestly what matters to me the most is that I get a feeling the book has a purpose in this world (it might for example make me think or laugh, or it could teach me something new) and there is a reason it was made by this specific artist (I get a feeling their personal experiences and aesthetics have affected the outcome). Artists’ books are art, not some random craft projects. We should give them a piece of our soul as we make them and steer clear of imitation to make room for our own art to fully blossom.
Now I’d like to attempt piecing together my way of coming up with an initial idea and developing it into a finished piece. Of course there are times when I take a detour or approach the whole thing from an unusual angle, but my typical process for creating an artists’ book for the #areyoubookenough challenge can look something like this:
1. Checking in with the realities
The challenge has a monthly theme that works as the starting point - it’s so much easier to create something with a few restrictions in place, and here we already have a theme and a time frame for finishing the piece. Having a deadline limits both the scale and the complexity of the book. With me it often also limits my material choices (even though we already know all the themes for 2020, I haven’t managed to plan ahead) as delivery times can be long - thankfully I’ve hoarded a ton of weird supplies in addition to the basics.
2. Theme as a starting point for ideation
I usually start by thinking what structures could work with the theme: if there’s a structure that is like made for it, or if there’s a structure I’d like to revisit or try. Unless I come up with something brilliant and fresh right away I make a list of the first five or so ideas that come to mind and scrap them. The most obvious ideas bore me before I manage to finish my book so I try to avoid them. It’s still important for me to list them - writing down allows me to a) get them out of my system, or b) create a segway into another idea that’s at least a little bit better. After this list of immediate no-gos, I make a longer list with more ideas and tons of sketches (both content and structure related), and take a few I like best and start sketching more elaborate plans. These ideas can still be either very abstract or concrete. I write down thoughts about those ideas - build a context and purpose for the piece. I think of a mood or a feeling I want to convey and add in details. Sometimes I use vintage finds in my work - these existing containers or other vintage bits I may want to incorporate further dictate the scale. Scale limits how much room I have for content and the techniques I can use to create the content. And of course the techniques I use are also limited by my skills, the tools and materials I have at hand.
3. Marrying form and content, executing a plan and winging it when it fails
I always aim to create work where the form and content support one another, either by contrast or complement. It’s easier to discuss this if I break down how a specific artists’ book came to life. What follows is not a tutorial for making an artists’ book like mine, even if you could maybe use it as one. Please don’t ever copy any of my work. Like I said: It’s not a craft project, it’s art. This is written for the sole purpose of showing you just how much thinking goes into my art/work and how do I get from point A to point Ö (that’s how far we Finns go at the end of the alphabet).
March #areyoubookenough artists’ book theme: HEXAGON
starting point: no bees, honeycombs or quilting (absolutely nothing wrong with any of these! I just want to push myself further and find secrets I didn’t know I had in my brain)
-> maybe a triangular bar structure that forms a hexagon when closed - once unrolled and viewed from one angle, an image can be seen on the side of the triangular bars all laid out next to one another, the opposite direction reveals a second image
-> this all would be very tiny and housed in a case that can be worn like a talisman
-> mock-up (I hardly ever make them!)
-> decide the images I had didn’t work well enough in such a small scale
-> toss it (I wasn’t thrilled with the content I had planned for this structure so it didn’t feel rewarding enough to start honing all the details)
-> rummage through vintage finds and find two round domed glass pieces that could form a small container of sorts when placed against one another (you know how much I love see-thru elements, and we all know circles and hexagons are good friends, and so the ball started rolling)
-> round centerpiece smaller than my palm
-> hexagonal structure around it
+ something that requires interaction
-> round glass things we hold (with both hands?)
-> compasses, navigation tools
-> we obviously need a pointer element and maybe some dials or switches or device-y things
-> watch parts for the glass centerpiece, halves held in place with hexagonal stitches through a round, barely-there cardstock frame (covered with ???)
+ something that can be read
-> six-letter words that need action to be revealed fully (the leaves of a book regularly serve this purpose, but I’m not making a regular book)
-> a word puzzle of sorts
-> hexagonal beads that turn on a vertical axle, one letter per side, six beads to make six words that more or less relate to navigating the current situation and to the book itself (tender, vessel, harbor, hermit, letter, unreal - for I/we need tenderness now especially, books are vessels, vessels can be containers or boats, I’m looking for a safe harbor amidst all this confusion, hermit-life here we come, this is both a letter to you and the letters it consists of, everything is feeling very unreal at the moment)
-> how the heck is this kind of thing put together? in what order is everything covered and assembled? what do I use for covering the different elements? what’s the final shape of this thing?
-> look through paper stash, find lots of things that could work, settle for vintage blue-print-kind of papers, could use plain wire or jewelry pins for axles, maybe I’ll need washers, might be able to use crimp beads as washers, find a metal finding that could be used a hanger for the whole thing
-> I need to make the letter beads first as they will determine how much room I need to create around the round center
-> type letters in the correct order onto the vintage paper with a typewriter (I decided the first word starts at the top bead, the second word at the second bead etc. and figured out the correct order of letter for each bead)
-> fold that piece of paper into sixths and measure appropriate height for beads
-> realize that creating those beads out of cardstock is too flimsy on its own
-> roll strips of paper the height of those beads round a bookbinding needle slightly thicker than the planned axle, glue on a strip of heavy cardstock folded into a hexagon to give the bead its shape, cover each end with same cardstock, remember to make holes at each end, cover with the paper that has those typed letters, trim paper to correct height, set aside
-> calculate how big of a case each bead needs to house the letter bead, the washer beads and the paper I use for lining the inside of that case
-> finish round glass center (cut a narrow ring in cardstock, mark holes for stitches, make holes, cover it with paper while remembering to make those stitch holes in the paper as well, let dry overnight, sew watch hand and spring together with carefully chosen thread, assemble everything and sew into place, set aside)
-> calculate how much empty space I want around the centerpiece and how much room I need for my letter beads and their cases
-> draw and cut a hexagon and a circle on binders board to create the frontside of the Tender Vessel (it was maybe at this point I started to call it that)
-> use it as a template and cut another one for the backside
-> measure the thickness of the centerpiece and determine how deep you need to make the surrounding structure
-> cut inner sides out of binders board, mark holes for sewing on the centerpiece
-> measure and remeasure everything, plan, mark and cut the spots for the bead cases on the front board
-> glue inner side pieces into place
-> cover front and inner sides making sure all edges are finished as neatly as possible
-> sew the centerpiece into place now (realize there won’t be room later!)
-> measure where the letter bead axle needs to be so it’s easy enough to turn the letters once everything is in place, make appropriately-sized holes in the top and bottom piece of each case
-> realize you need to also cover the top and bottom of each bead with matching paper as they will otherwise stand out
-> assemble six tiny paper lined bead cases out of binders board as deep as the inner side pieces, add letter beads, washer beads and jewelry pin axles
-> glue bead cases into place (in correct order and right way round)
-> cover back board taking care to finish all edges neatly
-> glue back into place
-> wrap a strip of heavyweight paper round the sides of this sideless object to compensate for the turn-ins of the paper used for covering the side pieces
-> create thick sides out of layers and layers of thin cardstock glued only onto itself (the thickness of the side part is determined by that vintage metal hanger piece and its screw is pretty long), let dry
-> remove side piece and the paper strip, sand side piece until it’s nice and even
-> cover not with what I had planned but with something that fit the colour scheme better
-> almost kill someone as you try to make a snug hole for the hanger
-> glue side part into place, mess up the hanger hole location by a very noticeable mm or two
-> redo the hole in a way it doesn’t show, attach metal hanger
-> remember that beautiful sari ribbon in stash that would work beautifully with the colours, add ribbon, decide it needs to be braided, braid, add braided ribbon
-> realize you wanted to type your name and other info on the backside, make a tag instead, hang it with a piece of cord
-> show the finished piece to J through WhatsApp and while he doesn’t really understand what I just made he knows we now need to celebrate a bit
-> sleep
-> clean fingerprints out of glass
-> take photos
-> share them on Instagram and write about the finished piece:
The Tender Vessel is a compass of sorts, just like all books are. It’s an artists’ book, a vessel of tenderness, of secrets, of reflections. Just making it has helped me navigate these strange times of isolation and anxiety I’m to spend geographically separated from all my loved ones. This piece, like most of my artists’ books, doesn’t resemble a book at all, yet it certainly is one. By turning the letters one by one you can reveal different words relevant to this emotional landscape I inhabit. The pointer points quite randomly, because even this Tender Vessel doesn’t know where to go next.
So, there. That’s one creative process broken down in fairly minute detail. Still, the biggest engine behind the finished piece is me. There’s only one of me, and there aren’t enough words or steps to explain it in any sort detail, but we still know this Tender Vessel couldn’t have been made by anyone else. Even if there are people who share the same skills it requires, using those skills in this specific way is all me. And that’s how it’s supposed to be when we make art.
Why I think The Tender Vessel is a book even though it lacks a spine and leaves? First of all, codex isn’t the only form a book can take. Secondly, it’s not a sculpture because it’s made to be touched and interacted with just like books are - sculptures we’re usually only allowed to look. It’s a book because it carries information (both in the form of letters and the object itself - and I don’t honestly even require books to carry information, I’m just underlining the book-like qualities this piece has). Are you a person who desperately needs a book to have literal pages? If I ask you, could you maybe imagine those letter beads as pages you need to turn in order to read this book? There are many more ways this book is a book to me, but I want to leave some for you to figure out just for yourself!
Thanks for reading all the way to the end! Any thoughts or questions about artists’ books or creative processes? The comment box is here for that purpose <3