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.
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.
