Call For Images: Historic, Artistic or Technically Innovative Book Boxes

Dudin boxAn Asian style box was considered important enough to be illustrated in René Martin Dudin’s L’Art du Relieur-Doreur de Livres, Paris, Saillant & Nyon, 1772. My collection.

I’m preparing a presentation to accompany a workshop about drop spine boxes that contain an integral cradle. To date, I am scheduled to teach this workshop at Columbia College (Chicago, May 23-25) and at the Focus on Bookarts Conference (Forest Grove, OR, June 25-27).

I’d like to include a variety of images of historic, artistic and technically innovative book boxes. I am interested in early boxes from the nineteenth century, like the solander or the moulded fire-resisting pull-off case. I would love to have a selection of artistic boxes that either through design or action enhance or comment on the book enclosed within. Images of technically inventive boxes are also welcome, such as those that protect unusually sized or shaped books, house remains of binding parts removed, or have an integral cradle. I also intend to write up some kind of summary in a blog post.

If anyone has images they willing to share, please send up to 3 digital images to me by March 17, 2013. Include: your name, how you want to be identified (links to your website, etc), the name of the work (or book housed within), dimensions, date. I’m not sure if I will be able to use all the images, though if I only get one submission….

Maurice Sendak on ebooks

“I hate them. It’s like making believe there’s another kind of sex. There isn’t another kind of sex. There isn’t another kind of book! A book is a book is a book.” Maurice Sendak  (June 10, 1928-May 8, 2012)

A Stanhope Press

 Monthly Supplement of the Penny Magazine, Vol.II, November 30-December 31, 1833, (p. 505)

I found this image of a Stanhope press quite provocative. I imagine it is lit by the moon–a full moon? — notice the highlights on the cloud visible through the window. This quiet press glows with a pale whiteness, waiting for ink blackened type, which like the darkness outside is full of possibilities. Is this press coming to life; rising out of the cross it rests on, its bar reaching towards the light?  There is a loneliness here: no people, no ink, no visible type, no printed sheets. The open frisket and windowpane visually merge; a reminder, perhaps slightly cliched, that the printed page is indeed a window?

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