THUMBSKETCHES AND [HE FOLLOWING. MARINA ROY - ARTSPEAK - MARCH 17-APRIL 21, 2001 reviewed by Carly Haddon In the Dark Ages, monks hand-wrote books in elabo- rate script in dim attic rooms, and painted the illustra- tions. In cathedrals, leather-bound books embossed with gold leaf were kept in locked rooms, and chained to reading lecterns. They were powerful totems of knowledge, and though the invention of the Gutenberg press in the fifteenth century made books more widely available, books remained sacred. When paperbacks were first introduced in the middle of the nineteenth century, they were produced on the cheapest papers with low quality inks. The first pub- lished books were often religious, but long after they moved beyond religious subjects, books were usually still intended to be edifying, uplifting or morally instructive. Paperbacks were portable and inexpensive, but suffered from a bad reputation. Pulp press, dime novels, yellow press (for the colour of the low-quality paper) — these were terms for the lurid page-turners produced by upstart publishers trying to give the pub- lic what they wanted, not necessarily what was good for them. One of these publishers, Pulitzer, left some of the fortune he amassed from mass-produced filler to fund authors of literature through the Pulitzer Prize. When books were still expensive luxuries, they were seen as objects within themselves. The inexpensive paperback made the book itself less important — the message counted more. By the 1940s, even “serious” books were published in paperback editions. It wasn't how the book looked — the agreed-upon literary canon was what was considered almost holy. But it still seems sacrilegious and guilt-inducing to mark up a book. Even though scribbled margin notes are fodder for marginalists, books beyond rebellious inscriptions on school textbooks, most people don't make a mark on, even though books leave a mark on us. The cultural history of books affects not only how we relate to books, but our interpretation of them as art objects. At Artspeak this month, Marina Roy's decorated (or desecrated) paperback editions of the classic canon Tp 26 ‘e line the gallery walls. Balzac, Keats, De Sade, Jung, Freud — all enhanced with sketches of rich, allegorical imagery; reclining nudes, breasts and chalices, ejacula- tion, defecation, and impending penetration. (Or crotch shots, tits, shit and cock, depending on your point of view.) Her sketches are not visible until the books are bent so the edges of the pages are fanned out — then the pictures emerge. Hidden drawings like these were called fore-edge paintings, and were usu- ally based on a book's content. They first appeared in the late eighteenth century, and reached their height of popularity in the late nineteenth century, on books that were like singular artworks for rich collectors. A few more of Marina's doctored books rest incognito in the reading room at the back of the gallery. A Tom Wolfe book, when curved to splay the page edges and reveal the hidden inscription, shouts ‘Wanker’ in bold gold script. Marina's work speaks to the almost personal relation- ships we establish with books. Publishers who worry publicly about the future of printed books would be reassured by her sketches, which may visually repre- sent the dialogue between our eyes, the printed word, our imaginations and our books. Another wall-sized painting by the gallery door recalls type and the mainly lost art of typesetting — the painstaking placement of each individual letter. The painting, made of rows of capital letters spaced evenly and without punctuation, is difficult to read. Only under an intense gaze, a squint to decipher meaning, does the subject swim into view — the first few lines of text are all about ‘the gaze’. The gaze of the painter resting on model, the gaze of model resting on painter... and your eyes start to burn. And the mean- ing of the text itself seems blurred - Who is the painter? Who is creating? The dense text swims back out of focus, and again the aesthetic of the sea of let- ter-forms crashes over the need to understand. (The text is a quote from Foucault, and also describes a painting.) Production, the gaze, the canon, allegory — heady stuff. | suggest you go and read it for yourself. advertise smagazine influx design media arts culture Advertising your service, product, event, or organization to 5,000 creators and consumers of culture. Influx Magazine features writing on contemporary issues and happenings in the field of visual and material culture. The design of the publication is fresh, vibrant and tasteful. We distribute to select shops, cinemas, and cafes in greater Vancouver, and to all branches of the Vancouver Public Library. Influx Magazine is in its 16th year of publication, have you considered advertising with us? Who to contact for information: Corinna vanGerwen Advertising Coordinator 604.844.3861 604.844.3801 Telephone Fax (attn: influx) Address 1399 Johnston Street, Vancouver, BC V6H 3R9 We print on 50pp Electrabrite stock THUMBSKETCHES AND THE FOLLONING, MARINA ROY - ARTSPEAK - MARCH 17-APRIL 21, 2001 reviewed by Carly Haddon In the Dark Ages, monks hand-wrote books in elabo- rate script in dim attic rooms, and painted the illustra tions. In cathedrals, leather-bound books embossed with gold leaf were kept in locked rooms, and chained to reading lectemns. They were powerful totems of knowledge, and though the invention of the Gutenberg press in the fifteenth century made books ‘more widely available, books remained sacred. When paperbacks were first introduced in the middle of the nineteenth century, they were produced on the cheapest papers with low quality inks. The first pub- lished books were often religious, but long after they moved beyond religious subjects, books were usually still intended to be edifying, uplifting or morally instructive. Paperbacks were portable and inexpensive, but suffered from a bad reputation. Pulp press, dime novels, yellow press (for the colour of the low-quality paper) - these were terms for the lurid page-turers produced by upstart publishers trying to give the pub- lic what they wanted, not necessarily what was good for them. One of these publishers, Pulitzer, left some of the fortune he amassed from mass-produced filler to fund authors of literature through the Pulitzer Prize. ‘When books were still expensive luxuries, they were seen as objects within themselves. The inexpensive paperback made the book itself less important ~ the message counted more. By the 1940s, even “serious” books were published in paperback editions. It wasn't how the book looked - the agreed-upon literary ‘anon was what was considered almost holy. But it still seems sacrilegious and guilt-inducing to mark up a book. Even though scribbled margin notes are fodder for marginalists, books beyond rebellious inscriptions on school textbooks, most people don’t make a mark on, even though books leave a mark on. Us. The cultural history of books affects not only how we relate to books, but our interpretation of them as art objects. ‘At Artspeak this month, Marina Roy's decorated (or desecrated) paperback editions of the classic canon @ line the gallery walls. Balzac, Keats, De Sade, Jung, Freud — all enhanced with sketches of rich, allegorical imagery; reclining nudes, breasts and chalices, ejacula- tion, defecation, and impending penetration. (Or crotch shots, tits, shit and cock, depending on your point of view.) Her sketches are not visible until the books are bent so the edges of the pages are fanned ‘out - then the pictures emerge. Hidden drawings like these were called fore-edge paintings, and were usu- ally based on a book's content. They first appeared in the late eighteenth century, and reached their height of popularity in the late nineteenth century, on books that were like singular artworks for rich collectors. ‘A few more of Marina's doctored books rest incognito in the reading room at the back of the gallery. A Tom Wolfe book, when curved to splay the page edges and reveal the hidden inscription, shouts ‘Wanker’ in bold gold script Marina's work speaks to the almost personal relation- ships we establish with books. Publishers who worry Publicly about the future of printed books would be reassured by her sketches, which may visually repre~ sent the dialogue between our eyes, the printed word, our imaginations and our books. Another wall-sized painting by the gallery door recalls type and the mainly lost art of typesetting - the painstaking placement of each individual letter. The painting, made of rows of capital letters spaced evenly and without punctuation, is dificult to read. Only under an intense gaze, a squint to decipher meaning, does the subject swim into view — the first few lines of text are all about ‘the gaze’. The gaze of the painter resting on model, the gaze of model resting on painter... and your eyes start to burn. And the mean- ing of the text itself seems blurred - Who is the painter? Who is creating? The dense text swims back ‘out of focus, and again the aesthetic of the sea of let- ter-forms crashes over the need to understand. (The text is a quote from Foucault, and also describes a painting.) Production, the gaze, the canon, allegory ~ heady stuff, I suggest you go and read it for yourself. advertise Advertising your service, product, event, or organization to 5,000 creators and consumers of culture. Influx Magazine features writing on ‘contemporary issues and happenings in the field of visual and material culture. The design of the publication is fresh, vibrant and tasteful. We distribute to select shops, cinemas, and cafes in greater Vancouver, and to all branches of the Vancouver Public Library. Influx Magazine is in its 16th year of Publication, have you considered advertising with us? Who to contact for information: Corinna vanGerwen ‘Advertising Coordinator Telephone 604.844.3861 Fax (attn: influx) 604.844.3801 Address 1399 Johnston Street, Vancouver, BC V6H 3R9 ‘We print on 50pp Electrabite stock