Tuesday, September 15, 2009


I love books. I have a huge collection of them in all subjects. I love they way they feel, the way they smell, the idea that I can dog ear a favorite page or write notes in the margin. I love to read in bed at the end of the day when everything is finally calm and quiet.

In this month's Art on Paper magazine there is a reprint of an essay titled, "The Book Maker's Desire", written by Buzz Spector in 1991. I would like to share a part of this essay with you.

"The topography of an open book is explicit in its erotic associations: sumptuous twin paper curves that meet in a recessed seam. Page turning is a series of gentle, sweeping gestures, like the brush of fingers on a naked back. Indeed, the behavior of readers has more in common with the play of intimacy than with the public decorum of art viewing or music listening. Most of us read lying down or seated and most of us read at least partially unclothed. We dress up to go out and look at art; undressed, in bed, we read. We seek greater comfort while reading than the furnishings of museums or concert halls will ever grant us. When we read - the conventional distance between eye and page is around fourteen inches - we often become the lectern that receives the book: chest, arms, lap or thighs. This proximity is the territory of embrace, of possession; not to be entered without permission."

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