I thought I had discovered a new art form when my friend Adair told me about altered books. I thought some scrapbooker had gotten bored with her calico paper and grommets and decided to hack up her old third grade reader. But then I found the International Society for Altered Book Artists (ISABA) . My husband pointed out that there is an international society for just about anything--I suppose that's true, but this one surprised me because I had no idea there were so many people out there massacring old dusty books for art. Where have I been?
Here is how the ISABA describes their craft: the altered book--
It is any book, old or new that has been recycled by creative means into a work of art. They can be ... rebound, painted, cut, burned, folded, added to, collaged in, gold-leafed, rubber stamped, drilled or otherwise adorned ...and yes! it is legal!
Well, of course, it's legal. This isn't currency you're plastering with decoupage, it's a book. It's a book that was prized by an author once. One he struggled over, possibly drank over, lost sleep over, imagined, typed, presented like an offspring to an editor. A publishing team considered it and thought it might be profitable--had it cleaned up, printed, bound, marketed, warehoused, and shipped. And when the sales fell off, it ended up in the back room of some dusty gift shop.
My first job was as a counter girl at Burger Chef. The brown and orange striped polyester tunic and poofy hat did nothing for me, but the paycheck every two weeks bought books. Down the street from Burger Chef and Jeff was a train depot that had been converted into a gift shop with a back room devoted to old books. Every two weeks, I climbed the creaky stairs, walked over the wide and uneven plank floors to the back room, and scanned every shelf for a treasure. I collected them--the old books--Shakespeare, Hardy, Poe, Bronte. I've still got them, stacked up on shelves in almost every room.
I went through them this morning wondering which one I would sacrifice--which one would I subject to butchery for art. I touched them all, remembering when I bought them, where I was when I read them--on a train to Chicago, sitting in the plaza at school, on a plane to Atlanta. I have added my history to theirs.
This summer, I bought The Story of A Hundred Operas at a used book sale in an Amish barn (very intriguing sale--books on one side and buggies on the other). I considered annihilating the opera book to make a journal, maybe one documenting my experiences as a horn player, but what if I want to know the summary of the operas someday?
At an antique store in town, I picked up Around the World in Eighty Minutes published in 1894. It's a pictorial with brief descriptions from The Statue of Liberty to the Arc de Triomphe to the Acropolis and back to the Brooklyn Bridge. I considered decimating this one until I read the inscription on the end sheet--it was a gift to Sarah Foster on Christmas, 1896. Sarah was 12 years old that year. This treasure will go back on the shelf.
I have to admit that I'm intrigued by this art form, new or old. But I haven't been able to find a base book to work with. I'm not sure I can separate the material from the author/editor/buyer/gift giver who have touched it over the years. I need someone with a lesser sense of sentiment to give me one that has no history or appeal or inscription on the end sheet. Give me a failed remainder title, and I'll get to cutting and gluing. But until then.........
Here is how the ISABA describes their craft: the altered book--
It is any book, old or new that has been recycled by creative means into a work of art. They can be ... rebound, painted, cut, burned, folded, added to, collaged in, gold-leafed, rubber stamped, drilled or otherwise adorned ...and yes! it is legal!
Well, of course, it's legal. This isn't currency you're plastering with decoupage, it's a book. It's a book that was prized by an author once. One he struggled over, possibly drank over, lost sleep over, imagined, typed, presented like an offspring to an editor. A publishing team considered it and thought it might be profitable--had it cleaned up, printed, bound, marketed, warehoused, and shipped. And when the sales fell off, it ended up in the back room of some dusty gift shop.
My first job was as a counter girl at Burger Chef. The brown and orange striped polyester tunic and poofy hat did nothing for me, but the paycheck every two weeks bought books. Down the street from Burger Chef and Jeff was a train depot that had been converted into a gift shop with a back room devoted to old books. Every two weeks, I climbed the creaky stairs, walked over the wide and uneven plank floors to the back room, and scanned every shelf for a treasure. I collected them--the old books--Shakespeare, Hardy, Poe, Bronte. I've still got them, stacked up on shelves in almost every room.
I went through them this morning wondering which one I would sacrifice--which one would I subject to butchery for art. I touched them all, remembering when I bought them, where I was when I read them--on a train to Chicago, sitting in the plaza at school, on a plane to Atlanta. I have added my history to theirs.
This summer, I bought The Story of A Hundred Operas at a used book sale in an Amish barn (very intriguing sale--books on one side and buggies on the other). I considered annihilating the opera book to make a journal, maybe one documenting my experiences as a horn player, but what if I want to know the summary of the operas someday?
At an antique store in town, I picked up Around the World in Eighty Minutes published in 1894. It's a pictorial with brief descriptions from The Statue of Liberty to the Arc de Triomphe to the Acropolis and back to the Brooklyn Bridge. I considered decimating this one until I read the inscription on the end sheet--it was a gift to Sarah Foster on Christmas, 1896. Sarah was 12 years old that year. This treasure will go back on the shelf.
I have to admit that I'm intrigued by this art form, new or old. But I haven't been able to find a base book to work with. I'm not sure I can separate the material from the author/editor/buyer/gift giver who have touched it over the years. I need someone with a lesser sense of sentiment to give me one that has no history or appeal or inscription on the end sheet. Give me a failed remainder title, and I'll get to cutting and gluing. But until then.........
Comments
Very NICE!