As I think more about memory and its elusive nature, I have become more interested in the book format as an art medium. Its structure is so powerful.
Books, zines, and other bound objects reveal stories and share complex ideas. And they are tactile. I love turning pages, the progression and sense of discovery. I also love the intimate nature of engaging with the material one-on-one with my hands. When I was kid, I used to play with my father’s comb binding machine to make sketchbooks and books for my stories. Creating my own stories in a physical form felt so powerful.
First panel of Field Notes
A couple of weeks ago, I took a trip to the Hill Country with my partner. It was a beautiful weekend, and we spent all of our time outside. Hoping to grasp and play with the experiences we had there, I set about making a rough sketched object - an accordion book - to record and build some kind of narrative so I could refer back to it.
I folded and prepared the book simply and awkwardly - much like the act of recalling a memory. The paper (having been a roll for most of its life) rebelled as I folded and molded it into the accordion structure. Before I had made any marks on its pages, the book held many mistakes. It was evident that it was handmade and imperfect. I liked that and decided to keep going.
Third panel of Field Notes
As I reflected and thought about the place, I introduced playful and abstract elements. While each ink drawing acts as a still or frame taken from some rough recording, I wanted my presence to engage with the act of recalling it so I kept it loose. Everything was kept within a grayscale to mimic memory’s foggy nature.
Front panels of Field Notes
After I finished the primary side of the accordion book, I flipped it over and created a map of sorts. It draws the path between the place we visited and the place we inhabit. The book acts as a way of returning to the place, a specific time, and a set of memories. Therefore, the pathway that takes up the back of the accordion is both metaphorical and structural.
Back panels of Field Notes
Sketching and writing are fundamental to how I operate. Molding structures (such as Field Notes) offers a means of holding and directing these sketches into a narrative. I find this possibility incredibly empowering unlike the structures I often depend on for narrative (social media for example).
While studying up on book arts, I found this beautiful artist book by Monique Janssen Belitz. With this work, Belitz delicately and yet roughly looks at land, borders, and migration. The format is fitting and plays an integral role in the ideas being addressed. Check out Belitz’s website to look at her other work featuring curious and still landscapes.
Monique Janssen Belitz, The Border Crossed Me, Migrants, artist book, mixed media, 2010.