Have com­pleted 12 artist’s books. My goal is to keep mak­ing them until I run out of mate­ri­als — in other words — for­ever. The books thus far are cre­ated from:
Dante. a Geography/​History text­book 1939. Col­lege trigonom­e­try text­book. Col­lege math­e­mat­ics text­book. 1964 McCall’s mag­a­zine. 1968 1001 Inte­rior Design magazine.

In the early 1970s the artist’s book began to be rec­og­nized as a dis­tinct genre, and with this recog­ni­tion came the begin­nings of crit­i­cal appre­ci­a­tion of and debate on the subject.

I have to do more research. Since I live in a cul­tural vac­uum, with input from inter­net and tv and magazines/​books, it sur­prises when I dis­cover my out­sider art is com­ing indoors. Like the JAB.

Photo gallery online later this week. For now, I’m just post­ing about how reward­ing artist’s books are to make. For me. For you? Prob­a­bly not so fun. What strikes some of you as odd is my destruc­tion of per­fectly good books and mag­a­zines in my quest to con­struct artist’s books. It’s a decon­struc­tion to con­struc­tion process. I think the mag­a­zine artist’s books are the coolest, no wait, it’s the math books, no it’s not…

It’s much like the altered book process but the book does not remain the same object, the same vir­tual form. Okay, that’s dis­jointed enough for now, “It’s Me or the Dog” is on in the back­ground and I can’t stop lis­ten­ing to it.

One quick point — I am pretty much a recluse. Lots of rea­sons, both men­tal and phys­i­cal. So when I start perus­ing art online, like John Cage’s work or items made from match­boxes, it star­tles me. At first — artists/​writers are dis­mayed by the same­ness of their craft but then we real­ize, we all have the same items to work from and we change them, alter them, to suit our spe­cific artis­tic need or vision. As pre­vi­ously stated, more on this later — right now I have to clean house like a motherf’er because friends are com­ing this week and Art Must Wait.

c