Saturday, July 4, 2020

Madeleine Beaulieu : “I find questions of genre counter to what I create:” Jen Bervin on Artists’ Books


          When my father received a copy of Jen Bervin’s Draft Notations (Granary Books, 2014) in January of this year, I was entranced. Draft Notations considers typewriter art, weaving, and visual poetry and is inspired by the work and writings of Anni Albers, the renowned 20th century weaver and artist who worked as an instructor at Black Mountain College. Artists’ books like this one exist at the intersection between the literary art of books and the tangible art of craft, an object that is neither book nor art and yet both. This intersection is a consideration and an interrogation of the conceptual and material form of a book (Drucker 3) that creates vast opportunities for discovery in literary and artistic fields. How does texture influence my reading experience? Why is reading a paperback different to running your fingers along the raised relief of a letterpressed poem? The reading and understanding of every artists’ book is an investigation, a discovery, the opening of a book and the observation of a piece of art, the unpacking of a stranger’s suitcase, and the pillaging of a treasure chest. Artists’ books embody creativity, play, and discovery; they are profoundly intersectional. This intersectionality inevitably leads to one of their most appealing characteristics—their tangibility. Because the majority of Bervin’s work focuses on craft the tangible experience of Draft Notations is only amplified, echoing through generations of women who have woven, sewed, and knitted, all while their work has been considered ‘hobbies,’ ‘low art,’ or dismissed as ‘women’s work.’ Through her artists’ books, particularly Draft Notations, Bervin opens avenues for consideration of women and their art. Her work intersects at the meeting of art, writing, poetry, weaving, and the book.
          A draft notation is the “pre-weaving design diagrams a weaver creates or consults to plan her work on the loom” (Bervin). Albers created these material studies as part of her art and teaching practice, and produced these studies using typewriters, perforated paper, newspaper, string, fibre, pen and ink, corrugated paper, and gouache (The Josef and Anni Albers Foundation). Albers’ typed studies inspired Bervin’s typewritten draft notations, which are featured in the book as both digital and letterpressed reproductions. It is her use of the typewriter that pulls the draft notations into the realm of visual poetry, as she creates poems from punctuation and letters. The machine that women used as secretaries and secret writers in in the mid and late 20th century can now be used to create art that reflects—and reflects on—women’s work.
          Draft Notations was published in a limited run of 75 copies by Granary Books in 2014. Each copy is bound in a taupe clamshell box wrapped in Dutch sailcloth, and includes four unbound books, two endnotes, and two glassine envelopes. The unbound books are made with textured Khadi acid-free cotton paper. Each of the books contains tiny draft notations, designed by Bervin on a typewriter and reproduced in letterpress by Friedrich Kerksieck. The draft notations have the feel of an image drawn in relief, each of the reproduced typewritten letters imprinted into heavy white paper, glued onto the grey-green of the Khadi. In total the unbound, untrimmed books contain fifty-seven of Bervin’s typed studies. Book V is the smaller of the two glassine envelopes, containing a letterpressed title card, and a square of Khadi Watercolour Indian Red Board with a unique typed study centred on the board. Book VI, the unbound volume, is the other glassine envelope, nearly the size of the box itself. In the envelope are nine digitally reproduced studies, each labeled with the brand of typewriter used to create the study. This series also consists of drafts and have not been modified—the white-out Bervin used to cover imperfections remains—and each includes creative work surrounded by quotations from poetry recordings and interviews Bervin listened to while creating the draft notations. Draft Notation is captivating, intelligent, and beautifully designed, and the appreciation and respect Bervin has for craft, writing, and her own work is obvious.
          Seeing this book was a revelation; handling it, unpacking it, seemed to unlock something within me. I had seen these not-books before—my father’s library is full of them—but I didn’t know they were called artists’ books or that they had a long, rich history, full of brilliant and influential scholars. To learn more about Draft Notation, and what Jen Bervin thought of artists’ books, I had to reach out to the artist herself. I first reached out to Bervin over email on February 4, 2020; she replied that same day, agreeing to engage in an email interview. I sent her my questions the next day. The interview was conversational—Bervin asked me as many questions as I had asked her—and her answers were incredibly thoughtful. 

          MB: Artists’ books are handled very differently than other book forms, and—like your Draft Notation—require the reader to remove each of the small books and leaflets in the box, making them far more physical than other books; how important is this physicality to you as the artist?       
          JB: For me, there are elements of surprise, layers of meaning in an artist book;               reading ones an expansive process with discreet spaces, spaces within the space of reading to behold, to engage both physically in an embodied way, as well as in mind and spirit. How important is this physicality to you as the reader? I should also add that I enjoy making things, it’s the best part, maybe along with research, of studio practice. With an artist book edition, it’s often a shared experience with studio assistants, and those windows hold conversations, energy, fun…
          MB: Does it dictate your decision-making around paper, and method of reproduction (the use of letterpress, for example)? 
          JB: Yes, I always test and prototype material registers in a project, and often have perceptual and haptic qualities I’m calibrating. How do those decisions dictate your reading? There are layers of meaning in these choices for me—what’s typed and printed with a typewriter vs. what’s typed then printed letterpress. The box is cloth covered, referencing weaving and the draft notation for it. Sometimes I just get attached to a material, like the Khadi paper in the prototype, and then realize that the way it is already functioning (rough texture, soothing grey-green to the eye in contrast to the visual patterns, etc.) is hard to replace with another choice. 
          MB:You have written both artists’ books and “regular” books—do you decide before beginning a project whether it will be an artists' book or a “regular” book?
          JB: Often this is clear from the nature of the work itself—for example both the writing and reading experiences of The Desert only work in its material register—composed by sewing, and read in that register. I did however, make some print versions of the book I circulated privately using a check-out system, when one reader finished, I’d send it to the next. This is actually very similar to how early books were circulated.  
          Some projects can be either or both, and I often choose both. Creating the artist book for Gorgeous Nothings with Granary allowed Marta Werner and me to dictate all of the terms of the book. We didn’t know we would have that trade opportunity when we made the artist book but we did actively pursue it, and when it went to trade there were so many “givens” in what we had done. I was also working with an enormously sensitive and gifted publisher in Christine Burgin. Had I started with trade, all those decisions about the form, format, structure, and the reading experiences would have been more debatable. I was glad it went to trade, because it created an opportunity to redo the transcriptions (which I prefer). But zooming way out, it’s a work that should and does have a large readership, and the presence of the book has changed how people think about Dickinson’s work. It brings them closer to what she created. 
          The odd thing about creating artist books is that it takes a long time to get a reader response. I mean faster than sending a book to space, but compared to a trade book that are written about etc. It’s more like planting a fruit tree. Sometimes librarians will post about an incoming book if they are excited about it, and that’s nice to hear.

          MB: What dictates the decision to make a project one over another?
          JB: […] I make the projects that persist in my mind and imagination. Nothing I make moves that quickly—I’m talking 2–12 years, so it really has to hold my attention and coexist with other projects to get into that window. I hope that the reasons these projects translates to other people feeling that way about them, that the depth of engagement is there, and that these seem relevant to others, but there’s no guarantee of that. I always hope there is. 
          Questions of scale—scale of readership, of the experience of reading. As an independent artist and writer, the artist books give me a lot more freedom in what I can make, make for really interesting reading experiences, give my work long term viability in collections, and they help support my practice financially. The trade books circulate more, are good for readers and culture at large, maybe draw attention to the other works in other forms, but are less fruitful for an independent writer/artist since they have a lot of upkeep cost—touring, promotion, admin to create, I get some, then have to buy them at a reduced rate, often to give away…that said, there are other career pressures to weigh, i.e. I like to have a trade book out at least every ten years. Trade books are more publicly visible, can be sent as a work sample. But also, and this part means a lot to me, they can be given as a gifts.
          MB: Do you consider artists’ books to be more ‘art’ or more ‘writing?’
          JB: Or more craft? Or poetry? Or multidisciplinary? Intersectional? What I like about them, is that they can be so varied and rethink what’s possible with each book; with a trade book there are so many preset assumptions about what it will be. I find questions of genre (of parsing it) counter to what I create. I only break it down when I have to apply for something. And break is not an accidental verb choice. I hope making works that defy genre make more space for others to do that.


Works Cited
Bervin, Jen. Draft Notation, Granary Books, 2014.
---. “RE: Questions on ‘Draft Notation.’” Received by Madeleine Beaulieu, March 11, 2020.
---. jenbervin, http://jenbervin.com/projects/draft-notation, May 15, 2020.
Drucker, Johanna. The Century of Artists’ Books, Granary Books, 1995.
The Josef and Anni Albers Foundation, https://albersfoundation.org/teaching/anni-albers/introduction/. Accessed April 1, 2020.



Madeleine Beaulieu is a student at the University of Alberta, completing a combined honours degree in English and art history. Her reviews and poems have been published in Grip, Shameless, and NōD magazines.

most popular posts