Oh look...

Ed Ruscha's bookshelf features two of my favorite Barry Lopez books.

Also from Ed Ruscha's studio/library... I have flat file storage and desk envy (the latter even looks like an old book).
[Both images via]

Speaking of books, today I read that one of my favorite artists, Hans Peter Feldmann was rejected from art school and spent two years as a sailor before creating his bound and stapled collections of repeated, ordinary subjects (Bilder).

"Known and Unknown Collaborations with Interlibrary Loan" officially completed

One project down, eight more to go...

All the images are printed, inventoried, stored and are now online! In fact, the website even has a brand new look. Now to tackle a dozen tasks that have nothing to do with sitting in front of a computer.

"Known and Unknown Collaborations with Interlibrary Loan"

Imogen Cunningham, Received and Returned, 2017 - 2018

In the spring of 2017, I checked out the publication Heinecken from the Ball State University library. Horrified by the sheer amount of plates that were removed, I wondered what equivalent methods of destruction occurred today. Immediately Judy Dater’s Imogen and Twinka at Yosemite came to mind as it is the photograph most flipped over and hidden (therefore riddled with pushpins) of the hundreds that fill the walls of the photography classroom. I was compelled to “fix” this so I ordered books to scan and print copies to replace both the defaced Dater and the missing Heineckens.

Ball State University's Copy of Imogen Cunningham: A Portrait, 2017

Two discoveries simultaneously occurred: Ball State’s Imogen Cunningham: A Portrait featured a high contrast copy of Imogen and Twinka at Yosemite as the original page had been removed. Also, the cover of Imogen Cunningham looked conspicuously censored after it arrived from a neighboring institution. Thus began two collaborations with the Interlibrary Loan librarian – one of which she knew and the other she did not.
 

Gary Schneider: Nudes, Received and Returned, 2017 - 2018

I culled all the new arrivals of contemporary art online bookstores and I took note of missing titles from the history of photography that the university did not own. I searched for books that the librarian might deliberately arrange the sticker or white band with my check-out information over “offending” parts of the human body, and unbeknownst to her, I documented the results.

Joel-Peter Witkin: Vanitas, Received, Revealed and Returned, 2017 - 2018

The books were scanned upon arrival, the information was moved to other areas revealing what was once concealed, and rescanned before their return. There were a few surprises along the way. As I carefully pulled back the adhesive, I found the loaning library placed the sticker in another location and Ball State moved it to a less offending area or they added white paper to the book’s cover.

Helmut Newton: Sumo, Received, Returned and Revealed, 2017 - 2018

Helmut Newton’s Sumo included a “Booklet” inside with the same cover image and a label shielding the model’s feet. I was taken aback that the front was censored but the interior was not. After careful inspection, it was noticeable that someone altered the label and rearranged it over the model’s torso prior to it coming into my possession. 

After awhile, the interactions with nudity became predictable and I began to speculate how the librarian would encounter violence or whether or not she was a cat or dog person (clearly preferring canines). 

Richard Jonas: Rescue Me, Received and Returned, 2017 - 2018

Walter Chandoha: The Cat Photographer, Received and Returned, 2017 - 2018

One Dozen Copies of Imogen Cunningham: A Portrait, 2017

The known collaboration consisted of the librarian obtaining permission to request eleven copies of Imogen Cunningham: A Portrait so I could take a photograph of twelve versions of page 126 and compare how many were missing and whether or not the library resolved it. I placed a new print inside the books where Imogen and Twinka were absent.

Robert Heinecken: A Material History, 2017 - 2018 

As for Heinecken, the ripped pages were integrated into a larger project, Robert Heinecken’s Vanishing Photographs: Myth and Loss Reimagined. I have always been inspired by his screen-printing a Viet Cong soldier over advertisements in periodicals then returning them to newsstands and doctor’s offices. Known and Unknown Collaborations with Interlibrary Loan was my version of his guerilla actions of the 1970s.

"Cartographies of Time: A History of the Timeline"

This book has moved from various studios and at this stage, two different coffee tables, for a couple years now. It was stained from an accidental red wine spill and the discoloration goes well with the subject matter (words I never thought I would utter). In a Herculean effort this spring to finish projects that are essentially complete but require a few days of concentrated effort in front of the computer, it was time to revisit it this morning.

As I press forward with the completion of Camden's Rock: 2012 - 2017, I have become fascinated with the presentation of chronological timelines from the past, whether they are pocket-sized (as in the top image) or scrolls. This chart above from the late 1870s was sold as an accordion book and on rollers for wall mounting. I am curious how such a large amount of information can be stored in a compact manner.

Conversely, this little red scroll is nearly two inches wide and is one of the smallest that was ever published. The Stream of Time on the bottom is wound on a roller in a box which has great appeal in terms of protection and a method of reading that will not cause stress to the paper.

Of all the objects presented in Cartographies of Time, Jacques Barbeu-Dubourg's Chronographie universelle was the one that I wanted most to see in person (and hold). The paper is mounted on cranks and enclosed in a little case that reminds me of something one would find in a printmaking studio.

I am not sure what Camden's Rock will look like when it is done but I can say that it's a 2.2 GB file that is 630" long with 83 images and as of this weekend, it is finally edited and assembled and sent to the designer to fill in the text. Nearly every part of that sentence is huge.

This is What a Good Mail Week Looks Like in 2017

Times have changed and in November, I made many vows for the next four years as I struggle to place what art I should make in this present reality and my role within it. After the outpouring of interest from friends and strangers who purchased Icelandic Blue Pantone 15-3908 last fall, one small gesture I could easily achieve (and maintain) is to support artist-run publications by purchasing one a month. Some of those appeared in the mail two weeks ago along with a couple other surprises.

First a surprise - a catalog from the archives at the Center for Creative Photography sent to me after my last research trip to Tucson.

Amy Elkins's Black is the Day, Black is the Night arrived in the most fitting black mailer. The combination of handwritten text, scanned letters, digital manipulations and photographic recreations about prisoners on death row will cause anyone to rethink their views on capital punishment (the most appropriate first purchase with this new resolution).

Ball State University also owns a copy (spreading the love x 2).

My friend Kelli introduced me to Mike Slack's Shrubs of Death in the fall. Always a fan of typologies (who wouldn't love awkwardly trimmed bushes found in cemeteries?), I was shocked to discover they were all photographed in Muncie, Indiana. Next on the list: bringing this series to the David Owsley Museum of Art in 2018. It came with a covetable print (thanks Mike!).

A sweet little notebook (surprise #2) also appeared in the post office box from Ernst.

Old photographic manuals and advertisements are interspersed with blank paper. I am not sure I can use it as it is a little too perfect without my messy scrawl inside.

I also bought a Melissa Livermore print in January to help support her year long art adventure in Paris and I look forward to framing it someday in the future. I quickly scooped up Peter Happel Christian's Nearly a Million Sunsets as 100% of the proceeds went to the Sierra Club. In addition, I participated in a couple protests, called and faxed a few senators, and gave money to two organizations that make the world a far better place. I am trying and I have no plans to stop.

INFOCUS Photo Books Exhibition

[Photos by Donna Goedhart]

From now through 9 April 2017, Icelandic Blue: Pantone 15-3908 will be on view at the Phoenix Art Museum for the INFOCUS Juried Exhibition of Self-Published Photo Books.
 

 

My humble little booklet/zine/pamphlet is on the right. The museum assembled a list of all the submissions with links. If you need to say farewell to a half hour of your time, it's highly worth investigating the other entries. I am also fairly confident in saying that mine is the cheapest one available for purchase (ahem... all of you with $10 burning a hole in your pocket...).

Icelandic Blue Pantone 15-3908

At Brush Creek Foundation for the Arts, I made the mock-up for my first small run publication, Icelandic Blue: Pantone 15-3908. In July, with a lot of help from Fred Bower (my colleague who teaches graphic design), it was ready to print.

I loved how the publishing company thought they accidentally smudged the front cover but then realized the fingerprints and dark marks were on the original files. With the exception of the addition of my copyright information, the cover represents the notebook I carted all over the country, documenting what we wanted to see each day and what we actually accomplished.

The inside, however, reflects upon the act of reading paint samples for a year (before and after the trip to the Arctic Circle). I tried to find direct and indirect references to Iceland and then photographed the colors that most accurately described them while traveling around the country. Some were successful comparisons and others were not.

Many of the artworks in the Autobiography in Water series expand upon the methods of presentation that I constantly rely upon to show my artwork. This particular product is a clear reference to Ed Ruscha's sixteen limited edition publications from 1963-1979.

250 were printed and are available for $10 plus shipping. Email me if you are interested in acquiring one!

"Books Do Furnish a Room"

I encountered Lawrence Weiner's bookmark referencing Donald Judd's library online a couple weeks ago (both images via). With the greatest of intentions, I began a book inventory in 2013 and finally finished it before moving in January. Despite this fact, I had never counted all of them.

Knowing about the bookmark, however, convinced me to do so. I am very happy to report that I am no Donald Judd, coming in at a few under 600 (= one large wall). If ever I reach 1000, that will be a problem. I couldn't agree more with the sentiment - books do furnish a room especially if you haven't had a television since 2006.

Petrified Forest Encore: "Bad Luck, Hot Rocks"

When I saw the signs at the Petrified Forest about not stealing the rocks, I adhered to that rule but I wondered about all the locations outside of the park that sold pieces that looked like they once lived in the national forest. I was depositing Camden's Rock in many of the locations we visited, for once, taking the opposite approach.

I first learned about Bad Luck, Hot Rocks in a New Yorker slide show and I was intrigued. The link above describes the collection as: "more than fifty specimens from the conscience pile, along with some of the letters of apology that accompanied their return. Collecting petrified wood on park grounds has been strictly prohibited for years. It is punishable by fines, and large signs near the park exits threaten vehicle inspections. Until recently, a display in the visitor center warned that rocks were disappearing at a rate of twelve tons per year, meaning that soon none would remain for future generations. (The park’s current administration has backed away from this estimate.) In case that emotional appeal failed, the display also included letters from repentant thieves, referring to a curse that would strike anyone who moved the petrified wood. The result was a self-fulfilling mineralogical prophecy: people ascribed any post-visit mishaps to their filched rocks, and they returned them by mail as quickly as they could."

This publication reminds me the rocks many of us collect and the stories they tell. When we are gone, those memories are lost and a pile of stones in a drawer will mean very little to our ancestors.

I wanted to see how this book documented the importance that people attach to the objects they take from the land. Where are these rocks now? Tossed back into the park after being coveted and rejected for so long?

I could not recommend this book more highly and cannot wait to delve deeper into its pages.

Photo Eye Book Store: "Shining in Absence"

The Photo Eye Book Store in Santa Fe was the most deadly location we visited. I could have spent thousands of dollars but limited myself to one item that screamed my name so loudly, I couldn't ignore it.

According to AmcBooks.com, Shining in Absence "is about the space left by the disappearance of photography both as an idea and as a material object. It is also a memento mori for Frido Troost (1960–2013) the Dutch photo historian and archivist."

Here are some of my favorite pages from the catalog:

In the last few months, I have considered large vinyl prints as a form of installation and was very curious by the following photographs (found here) of the collection installed in an exhibition.

The use of unusual wall space, the empty frames resting on the floor, the drastically different sizes, and the placement extending above one's reach or low to the ground once again prove that nearly everything Erik Kessels touches turns to gold. Now if only there was a way to alert him of this.

The Gorgeous Nothings: Emily Dickinson's Envelope Poems

Hannah loaned me this book months ago and I finally had time to read it this week. I have always felt indifferent to Dickinson but this may change my mind. The Gorgeous Nothings is the most elegantly printed monograph of worn paper and text that I have ever seen. Who wouldn't be enthralled with a page that reproduces aged paper resembling shark's teeth or an arrowhead flake?

The excerpts below focus on Dickinson's interest in birds as their migrations away from the Midwest in the fall are often on my mind. Beside each torn fragment printed to scale, there is a diagram that translates the handwriting into type.

In some cases, I was more enamored with the condition of the paper than Dickinson's text: particles floating on a white expanse, saved from further decay, memorialized in print.

I will leave you with one that was not scanned as the words were more important than the visual representation:

"There are those that are shallow intentionally and only profound by accident."