I know of no greater hope than libraries. "—Guy Sire
My eureka moment
A few years ago I had the somewhat bizarre idea of printing business cards that, under my name, listed my occupation: "Amateur Librarian." "Librarian, because for thirty years I spent most of my free time looking for books that would make life more interesting; I collected, stored, and organized them, following a plan that strictly reflected the topology of my brain. Free time, because It's not my profession; but also because, according to the word's Latin etymology, I really like it
When I started getting interested in photography in the mid-1980s, I was living in a place where I could barely see. to the provincial towns where the exhibition took place. Books were the primary means of exposure to the medium, and they opened up, like a door, an unknown territory. Books therefore greatly shaped my early knowledge of photography – and their importance continues to grow. During my time as a museum curator in France and the United States, I relied more on books, not even going to studios or exhibitions to discover works. For many years I used books first as sources, as compilations, as catalogues, in order to make selections that might enrich what I was doing. Photos from the work's collection.
A few years ago, I had a revelation, one of those epiphanies that changes the way we see things and stays with us long afterward. I hold a copy of it. An artist's book composed entirely of photographs. It's remarkable in its artwork, sequencing, typography, relationship of text to image, choice of paper, and many other small details that impressed me: both the book itself and the content it contains. Contains just as much, if not more, a place in the collection. The photography book becomes more interesting as a complex and coherent container than its photographic content itself. Boom
Apparently I’m not the only one to notice that photography books are, to paraphrase Michael Fried – “more important art than ever” and that for many years there has been a “photobook phenomenon” ”, its origins can be traced back to the Fotografía pública Horacio Fernández (Museum of the National Center for the Arts, 1999), who was one of the first to emphasize the importance of the context of a photograph’s communication and who reproduced a double-page spread in every thematic book.
was of great importance to many For people, the discovery of this work was a revelation. It confirmed even more clearly through the profusion of illustrations and page layout that photography is not just an image, but an object whose currency must also be examined. Studies of the book had already been published, such as the early papers by Elizabeth McCausland (1943) and Beaumont Newhall (1983), but Fotografía pública established a genre, followed by 101 Books (PPP Edition, 2001) and Andrew Ross, The Photography Book Volume 1: A History (Phaidon, 2004) by Martin Parr and Gerry Badger.
20 years later, the illustrated anthology of books on photography includes more than 80 titles. In my own library, these books occupy more linear space than traditional histories of photography. As these compilations show, the photobook is not a recent invention, it has been around since the very beginning of the medium (Anna Atkins,William Henry Fox Talbot etc.). Before the twentieth century, it constituted a greater means of communication for photography than exhibition. Therefore, we should view recent developments in photographic publications from the perspective of intensity rather than novelty. In 1999, there were approximately 100 publishers devoted partly or fully to international photography. In preparing this issue, based on publisher lists circulating online, plus my own library, I calculated that this number has increased nearly fivefold.Over the course of 20 years, with the peak between 2011 and 2014, approximately 300 additional photography book publishing houses were established.
A World of My Own
The current popularity of photography books is more than just a fashion. It has lasted for more than two decades and has had a significant impact on the photography ecosystem. This phenomenon is also historic because it embodies a new face of photography. I know several collectors, such as Manfred Heiting and a few others, who stopped collecting antique prints and focused entirely on photography books. I can no longer count the number of ex-students or interns whose main career was as a photographer, curator or academic, who preferred to create their own small publishing outfit.
In the day-to-day practice of my profession, I increasingly encounter photographers who are more interested in publishing a book than producing an exhibition. For these artists who live far away from the big galleries, this book has become a thing. With the publication of a book, a career begins. At its current stage of development, the photography collection stands approximately where the artist's book was in the 1980s. It offers unprecedented originality, experimentation, awareness, quality or sophistication. The field of photography publishing has also reached a certain level of maturity. It's a world in itself - with photographers, publishers, dealers, experts and collectors. All these form an organized network that feeds and governs itself.
Interestingly, over the past two decades, the world of photobooks has established a pattern of legitimation similar to that of photography itself at the end of the twentieth century. Masters and masterpieces must be selected and organized according to country or genre. Then there is the need to establish official institutions, authoritative figures, annual meetings, primary and secondary markets, bonus or medal compensation systems, etc. The final stage of this process requires that the photo album be considered an art form in its own right. This is where we are today.
Jane Mount, The Ideal Bookshelf 1208: Clermont Cheroux, 2021
This is art!
The new generation of publishers produces books that are considered to be something unique. Unlike many monograph collections of the last decades of the twentieth century, each volume has its own character. The pieces are considered to have stood the test of time and it is hoped that the grandchildren of the original buyers will find them still worthy of attention. In their online presentations, these publishers insist on equality between form and content. The book's content (thematic, visual, narrative) is certainly original, but its formal, conceptual attention is equally crucial. Several of these small publishers promoted an experimental approach to graphic arts, printing, or bookbinding.
In this case, the importance of this book is also very important. Haptics combine with optics to provide a different sensory experience than finding images on a screen. “Attention to every detail,” “cutting edge,” “highest quality,” “sophisticated” are words that appear frequently in these publisher descriptions. They claim that their professional standards are well above the general standards of publishing. Oddly, the word "craft" is rarely used here. This may be because it refers more to the nineteenth century than to the popular or internet vocabulary of our Web 2.0 era. But its philosophy is reflected in the way these publishers describe their careers.
Craftsmanship has been associated with art since the Arts and Crafts Movement . Some contemporary photography book publishers consider themselves craftsmen. They see books as a medium for the dissemination of art: a gallery without walls, or a paper museum. Everyone is an artist. Over the past few years, many photographers - Ike Soth, Stephen Gill, Christina Demid, Lucas Burke, Jason Fulford, Vasantha Yogananthan and others Like many, have created their own studios to independently publish their own work or the work of like-minded artists. While maintaining a fusion of form and content, they also claim that the photo album is an art form in its own right.
Andre Breton , Ed. 1947 (Pierre à Feu [Maight éditeur], 1947). Cover design by Marcel Duchamp
Please touch
I remember very well that when I first became interested in photography, the discussion centered around how images were made. Important subjects include operational techniques, area systems and decisive moments. "At Work" is a common subtitle for monographs on great photographers because the main challenge is to explain how they work. From now on, it is no longer a question of production but of communication, which is at the heart of all media conversations. A number of recent studies, exhibitions and conferences have examined different models of photo publishing. Today, of course, the Internet and social networks have become the main carriers of image dissemination. However, historically, in the twentieth century, the main channels through which photographs were disseminated were exhibitions and books. While these two interfaces with the public have absolutely complementary functions and their interrelated histories will one day be documented, they offer completely different photographic experiences.
While the experience offered by a museum or gallery is often a collective one, the experience of a photography book invites oneself into the home and offers a more intimate and personal understanding of the work. In exhibitions, photographs are mostly viewed vertically, whereas in books in the hand, on a table, or on one's lap, they are often viewed horizontally. Pictures on the wall are usually protected behind glass or plexiglass, unlike books where the image surface remains directly accessible. Wandering through the exhibition space engages the eye and the foot, while discovering a work in the book essentially relies on a combination of gaze and hand. Framed and hung, photographs have a presence but are rarely physical objects, whereas an album is an object-toucher with weight, materiality and tangibility.
This moment of absolute joy
I need to admit here that I have a very sensual relationship with books. Once the cellophane wrapper was removed from the book, I opened it and, almost in a Pavlovian reflex, inserted my nose into the hollow between the pages. Its smell is a mixture of glue, ink and paper. I opened the dust jacket to see if it concealed any details intentionally hidden from surface gaze. "Photography is about secrets of secrets," Diane Arbus said. I ran my palm over the grain of the paper. I followed the outline of the embossing with my fingertips. I love hearing the cracking of bindings. Putting my thumbs on the edges of the pages, I felt the flexibility of the paper and released the pages in a rhythm guided by curiosity. After approaching the initial stages of the book, I put it down and slowly began to discover it from beginning to end. I scrutinize the text, read it, pause long before certain images; I evaluate the page layout, go back a few pages, open the fold-out and then carefully close it again so as not to damage it.
For many years, the history of photography has been marked by the relentless pursuit of speed. Those who tried to improve it always tried to make it faster: from the immediacy of shooting (Kodak, 1888), to shortening development time ( Polaroid , 1948), to the immediacy of sharing ( Instagram , 2007). In my own relationship with images, I really enjoy the slowdown that photo albums bring. It allows for richer appreciation than the rapid scrolling of images stimulated by the nervous movement of your thumb across a smartphone screen. Sitting at a table or armchair with the book nicely placed between my eyes and hands, I feel as if a force field is becoming harmonious, as if something is finding its balance, like in a yoga pose When I think about it, it seems crazy how much strength can be contained in just a stack of partially inked paper, assembled in a certain order, and sandwiched between two thicker pieces of cardboard.
Horacio Fernandez, photographed 1919-1939 (National Center for the Arts Museum, 1999)
This one replaces that one?
At the turn of the 21st century, when digital images began to assume an increasingly important role in our daily activities, many predicted the end of paper books. In fact, the exact opposite is true in photography. With the development of web visual culture , photography book publishing surprisingly follows the same upward curve. Among curators, John Szarkowski was one of the first to foresee the positive impact of digital images on photography book publishing.
In a television interview on February 9, 2005, in response to a question about his thoughts on new technologies, he eschewed the usual sound bite at the end of The Truth About Photography and replied enthusiastically: "I think There is a great opportunity in digital systems to produce books, he explains, which allows us to reduce the cost of producing books in small print runs: "Some great books only require 200 or 500 people to own them." He is quite right. Digital systems help reduce distribution costs. Through the Internet, it is possible to order directly from the publisher without using an intermediary. The social network also announced the publication of a work with unprecedented power to spread and inspire. They offer a wealth of resources - tours, demos, insights into production, and more. This helps to understand the book.
Many times, I leafed through a new book in a bookstore and put it back in the library, only to run back to pick it up after seeing a photographer's demonstration online. Today, digital systems add a complementary layer around this already complex object. It is this virtual cocoon that creates the conditions for the extraordinary vitality of photographic publishing. To everyone's surprise, this book is not antithetical to digital systems. Rather, they are perfectly complementary and Szakovsky rightly believes intuitively that they should not necessarily be viewed as contradictory.
History in the Making
This issue is the 20th of The Photographic Book Review, marking the tenth year of this biannual news magazine, written by Lesley A. Martin and Excellent directing by the team at Aperture. Ten years later, PBR, as those familiar with it call it, has become one of the main communication forums for photobook hobbyists. It has contributed extensively to photography collections and documented its history as a publishing phenomenon. If we reread these 19 issues, we can find almost all the important debates of the period, as well as particularly active photographers, publishers and graphic artists, and of course the most influential books. When Leslie asked me to guest edit this issue, I accepted without hesitation.
First of all, because I am an avid reader and admirer of PBR. Secondly, because of the archival nature of this publication, its ability to document the history of its publication while actively engaging with it, seems to me to make it an ideal place to experiment with photography of the first two decades of the 21st century The development of books is studied. Our discussion begins with a simple question: How do we define a photo album? How many photography book publishers are there today? where are they? Then things get more complicated, as is always the case when you want to do things thoroughly. It is in a state of doubt that is necessarily provisional and incomplete that we imagine this question. Issue 20 of
poses questions to contemporary artists in the photobook world, as well as to a new generation of professionals. It also provides a chronology of key moments in photography publishing since 1999, statistics on the doubling of publishing houses, and a map showing their locations around the world. This issue is not meant to be exhaustive, but rather aims to bring together some useful resources that will allow readers, and perhaps future historians, to better understand current tastes for this fascinating object: the photography book.
