Shopping Online for Books

Shopping for books online as an experience can be likened to the experience of looking at photographs of food. You can’t taste the food or smell it, you can only briefly imagine what it would be like to have it. An experience which doesn’t compare to actually sampling it in reality. One cannot say that one has ‘experienced’ the food simply by looking at the photograph, unlike if you had had the physical matter in front of you, to rouse your senses - taste, touch, smell etc, then you have truly ‘experienced’ the food. I’d argue that buying books online is very similar to this notion.

Why settle for limited experience? Why take a backseat view when you could be up on the stage?

Another example could be the comparison between looking at a pixellated JPG image of a painting on the internet, and looking at the real thing in the flesh. Is this where our culture is heading? To a place where everything is viewed through a screen, where technology determines our every encounter?

One benefit of buying a book in a book shop is that you know exactly what you’re getting for your money. You don’t have to compare ‘user reviews’, check ratings or compare prices with any other sites. You can aquire the book then and there, you don’t have to wait between 4-12 working days for delivery or pay the fees for this. You know exactly where your money is going and for what. When browsing online one can commonly end up spending more money than is necessary, with the thousands of offers, suggestions and adverts we are bombarded with constantly online. When shopping in a store, you are simply surrounded by more physical books, you may browse at your own pace, judge quality for money yourself and communicate with real people.

Many may argue that one of the main reasons they buy books online is convenience – i’d argue that this is more to do with laziness. ( Or perhaps a lack of appreciation for the book as an object.) For what effort is really being saved? We hide behind the word ‘convenience’ and also behind our high-technological society, with the idea that time and unnecessary effort is being saved, when actually we are just taking the ‘easy route out’.

“I took my time, running my fingers along the spines of books, stopping to pull a title from the shelf and inspect it. A sense of well-being flowed through me as I circled the ground floor. It was better then meditation or a new pair of shoes- or even chocolate. My life was a disaster, but there were still books. Lots and lots of books. A refuge. A solace. Each one offering the possibility of a new beginning.” – Beth Pattillo, Jane Austen Ruined My Life.

Some people may be content living life through a flat screen, clicking, scrolling and pressing buttons, but I choose to treat my senses, browsing in book shops, exploring beautiful objects, appreciating human contact and experiencing as much as possible. 

Secondhand books

"Secondhand books are wild books, homeless books. They have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack." - Virginia Woolf.

If I was faced with a scenario, where in I had the choice to purchase a book in a chain bookstore or a second-hand bookshop, for exactly the same price, I would undoubtedly buy it second-hand. There are a number of reasons for this.

A main distinctive quality of every second-hand bookshop (as opposed to a chain bookstore,) is that they’re all completely different. There is an exciting element of the unexpected. When browsing in one of these shops I am almost always nicely surprised, by discovering a book, and author, I had no prior knowledge of. I’d have no idea where the book came from, from whom and where geographically.

This is particularly exciting when a second-hand bookshop specialises in a particular genre, maybe one that is relevant to local culture – the book as an object feels more personalised, the character of the book becomes more profound.

Perhaps the most appealing quality of second-hand books is their potential history. If a book is slightly battered, worn and used it suggests that it has been well read – maybe it has been a companion to one person for years, or maybe it has passed hands, maybe circulating a family or friends only to end up here. A spirit of appreciation for the literature, whatever that may be, is achieved by this. You may wonder why or how the book ended up here, which can spark ones imagination also. By buying the book you are continuing its history, furthering its journey and adding to the uniqueness of the book as an object.

‘...because when something has suffered damage and has a history it becomes more beautiful.’ - Barbara Bloom

Something which some second-hand book sellers do is to leave things in the books – things such as letters, pieces of paper, photographs, bookmarks, annotation, receipts – all manner of things. This of course adds to the books individual history, also giving a taste of a previous owners past – the time that he or she read the book, perhaps location. The items left in the books could be left there by mistake, or even completely on purpose. It’s quite like finding treasure.

I have always been an avid reader, I would choose to get lost in a book rather than a film any day, but I also appreciate books as artistic objects. Books are physically beautiful – each book has its own cover art and font, some books may have illustrations, a variety of paper types, some have leather covers, hand painted pages, prints, signatures – some are pocket size and some are difficult to lift. But possibly more importantly a book is a symbol of knowledge, imagination, exploration and adventure, among many, many other things. To sit in a room surrounded by this potential, for me, is an incomparable creative experience.

Quite like a child in a sweet shop, one can become almost overwhelmed by choice, but this isn’t an uncomfortable position to be in, quite the opposite. A desire to read every single book, to examine every cover, becomes apparent in these situations. Sometimes it is satisfying just to sit and look at the shelves, or walk around the book store, physically exploring different rooms, picking up some books, only to move on to another.

Physically being in a shop like this can be compared to the action or process of reading a book, one can be taken on an adventure to unexpected realms, one can spend varied amounts of time indulging and becoming completely distracted, engulfed in imagination. – An experience which I do not think is possible to the same level in a chain bookstore.        

Robert Morris at 'Sprueth Magers Gallery' - Berlin

http://www.spruethmagers.com/exhibitions/302

I don't usually develop such a fondness for minimal artwork, but I felt quite strongly in favour of Robert Morris's solo show at 'Sprueth Magers' in Berlin. Part of the reason for this was because some of the people I viewed the show with neither liked nor seemed to want to understand the work. It was almost as if they were holding grudges. 'Scatter Piece' is what I consider to be 'process based art'. The layout of the installation is described as looking like a 'sculptural production sight', where the arrangement of the piece reacts directly to the surrounding space, thus the installation manifests a temporary and changeable state of completion. We almost missed the piece completely, thinking at first that we'd stumbled across a show that was being installed.
I felt a kind of loyalty to this piece in particular, as I have recently realised how difficult it can be to represent a process, to freeze a moment of the creative process and represent time.

This is not to say, however, that I don't think the piece works independantly. I had a conversation with someone who made the statement "the artist hasn't actually done anything himself, he hasn't manipulated any materials at all, all he has done is throw them randomly in to a space." There are a few reasons why I disagree with this statement. Not only does Morris succeed in representing an unfinished state (which is arguably harder than representing something finished,) but he has ironically done this in a considered way. He has systemised and made presentable the somewhat chaotic and kinetic creative process. I think this is incredibly hard to do, to refine the balance between material and spatial awareness, and still manage to communicate creative thought process and decision making is no mean feat in my opinion. On the contrary the message is subtle yet incredibly skilful.

Very Inspirational

http://vimeo.com/34533540

'Rhapsody on a Windy Night' by T.S Eliot

I think this is a beautiful poem, which also feels quite appropriate on a night like this. 

Marianne Von Werefkin, 'Le Chiffonnier'

TWELVE o'clock.

Along the reaches of the street

Held in a lunar synthesis,

Whispering lunar incantations

Dissolve the floors of memory

And all its clear relations,

Its divisions and precisions,

Every street lamp that I pass

Beats like a fatalistic drum,

And through the spaces of the dark

Midnight shakes the memory

As a madman shakes a dead geranium.

 

Half-past one,

The street lamp sputtered,

The street lamp muttered,

The street lamp said, "Regard that woman

Who hesitates towards you in the light of the door

Which opens on her like a grin.

You see the border of her dress

Is torn and stained with sand,

And you see the corner of her eye

Twists like a crooked pin."

 

The memory throws up high and dry

A crowd of twisted things;

A twisted branch upon the beach

Eaten smooth, and polished

As if the world gave up

The secret of its skeleton,

Stiff and white.

A broken spring in a factory yard,

Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left

Hard and curled and ready to snap.

 

Half-past two,

The street lamp said,

"Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter,

Slips out its tongue

And devours a morsel of rancid butter."

So the hand of a child, automatic,

Slipped out and pocketed a toy that was running along the quay.

I could see nothing behind that child's eye.

I have seen eyes in the street

Trying to peer through lighted shutters,

And a crab one afternoon in a pool,

An old crab with barnacles on his back,

Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.

 

Half-past three,

The lamp sputtered,

The lamp muttered in the dark.

 

The lamp hummed:

"Regard the moon,

La lune ne garde aucune rancune,

She winks a feeble eye,

She smiles into corners.

She smoothes the hair of the grass.

The moon has lost her memory.

A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,

Her hand twists a paper rose,

That smells of dust and old Cologne,

She is alone

With all the old nocturnal smells

That cross and cross across her brain."

The reminiscence comes

Of sunless dry geraniums

And dust in crevices,

Smells of chestnuts in the streets,

And female smells in shuttered rooms,

And cigarettes in corridors

And cocktail smells in bars."

 

The lamp said,

"Four o'clock,

Here is the number on the door.

Memory!

You have the key,

The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair,

Mount.

The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall,

Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life."

 

The last twist of the knife

Marianne Von Werefkin

How can we deem a piece of art 'successful' or 'unsuccessful'?

Is it dependent on the tastes of the individual? Or are there subconscious, unwritten expectations that people develop upon entering a gallery environment? This is a very widely theorized area, yet there is not and cannot be any definitive answer.

 

Unfortunately I think this uncertainty has the potential to put the artist in quite an awkward position. 

When I am creating a piece of work I enter into a particularly selfish mode of thought. If I am happy with what I am producing, I continue, if the finished piece communicates emotionally to me in some way, I feel it is a 'success'. After all, is not the definition of 'success' - 'the achievement of something desired, planned or attempted'? Do we need to take others opinions into account? If I attempted to pick up a pencil and did, could I really call this a success? Just because I 'attempted' to do it and followed through with my urge to do so? What have I really achieved in picking up the pencil? 

This leads me to think that perhaps we can consider something a 'success' if a change has been made through the consciously attempted action. If the action has a purpose. Taking this idea and relating it back to art, it suggests that a piece of art should change something, the artist should have intentions or a purpose for the piece. Whether this be simply inspiring beauty or awe or even disgust in the viewer, whether it is by providing a space for thought, physically changing the surroundings or even to arouse ones awareness of something, there are endless ways a piece of art can change someone, whether this change is slight or more significant.

Thus for me, even if only a single person is effected, if a piece of art makes a change, provokes thought, it is significant, it has done its job and is consequently successful. Whether this provocation be the same or different to the artists intention with the piece, for me, is irrelevant. 

There is only one problem with this idea - how would we measure it?

Shigeo Fukuda

Shigeo Fukuda's 'Boat Sculpture'

What I like about this particular piece by Shigeo Fukuda is the combination of images, the casted shadow and the object or rather sculpture which casts this. This is arguably the pieces' most obvious and communicable attraction, and even though I fully appreciate this, I do not speak of cleverness in technique and skill.

But for me the two images, as separate entities, have different essences, suggest different times, qualities and ambiences. I don't think that the image of a ship alone would have much of a lasting impression upon me, even one that has been presented (or cast in this case,) in an unusual way. It is the striking form of the beautifully complex structure which casts the shadow which i personally find most remarkable. The dramatic lighting obviously plays a large part in making the structure so vivid and arresting, yet I think it could work as a piece of art independantly. The shadow, in my opinion, acts as an extension of this.

The fact that the primary purpose of the structure is as a function makes it more exciting for me. It becomes part of a process, it is held in this process which is continual, as the shadow is the finished piece. Despite the potential for the 3D part of the structure to be beautiful as an independant piece of art, it cannot be without the shadow, the image if the boat. One cannot be without the other. The shadow could not exist without being cast by the object, the object was created intentionally to cast the shadow, both are thus engaged in an on-going process, fully dependant on one another.