Riches on Pages

I wanted to mention—one of the things I am really looking forward to once my "new eye" settles down enough that I can be fitted for glasses is that I hope to be able to enjoy photo books more.

During my hiatus I reposted an old essay called "How to Read a Photographic Book." The method the post described was what I attempted to do a dozen years ago as a way of using my photobooks more. It came to me in 2005 or so that a.) my photobook library was one of my prized possessions, and yet b.) I hardly ever looked at any of the books! So, naturally, I got to wondering what the point was. Why "possess" those books if I wasn't going to actively use them? Just to look at them on the shelf and remind myself how pleasant it had been to look at them when I got them? That didn't seem very sensible. Having books slumbering untouched on a shelf or in a box didn't seem to be doing anyone any good.

So I resolved to figure out a way to use my library. That's when I formalized the method described in "How to Read a Photographic Book." My habit was that I'd take a book down off the shelf most nights, and page through it slowly for a while. I did it with a timer as described in the post for a while, but after I got used to the pace I dispensed with the timer and winged it; the important thing is just to take a slow, languid, moseying pace. It was almost like a kind of meditation, with the photograph as the meditation object. There was no end-point in sight. I wouldn't necessarily go all the way through a book in one night. If I got tired, I'd just put the book up again and resume the next night, from the place I left off, just as you would with a book of words.

I did that for a couple of years, and it was a nice habit. Not only did my book collection come alive again, every denizen of the shelves a candidate for being enjoyed anew, but it charged up my interest in photography. I felt intimately connected with photographs again, in a way I have never quite managed online.

In my 12-step program we acknowledge that we all have to accept "life on life's terms," meaning that all the chaos and complication of life doesn't end just because you give up a destructive habit. Another way of saying the same thing that made me laugh was when someone put it like this: "life gets all lifey." We all knew what she meant, and, yes, it does sometimes.

Anyway life got lifey, and I let my looking-at-photobooks habit more or less lapse, although I still did it (and still do it) now and then. Then, over the past few years, as my vision got worse, those occasions began to get pretty thin. To be honest I was enjoying it less. I always want to see clearly, whether it's in the driver's seat of a car, or through a viewfinder, or just looking around at the world. The pictures in the books were getting less distinct, harder to see. I've observed over the years that any time you're sort of vaguely troubled by any activity, you just sort of gradually drift away from doing it. Thus is was with looking at books.

Medical science might well have given me a "second wind" where the pleasure of seeing is concerned. And while it's mostly the real world that I'm looking forward to seeing more clearly, I find I'm getting more and more psyched up about the prospect of once again reacquainting with the vast store of photographic riches I have right at hand, on printed pages. I'm not there yet, but I'm hoping it's something I have to look forward to.

Mike

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(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Martin D: "In my study I have a little arm chair on the side, with a little table next to it. Every day I take an hour or two away from the desk to reflect and let ideas grow. Coffee cup on the table. There are photo books on that table too, but more are on the floor next to the chair. I pick up one or two and look at the photographs, sometimes to enjoy the images as images, more often to study these images for technique: how does the photograph deal with contrast, what are the design features of the composition, how would I do this in my own editing? The books on the little table change all the time, but there is always a Walker Evans, always a Berenice Abbott, always an Atget. Also amongst these books are some cheap paperbacks of classic essays by Talbot etc., with my pencil annotations from the past. Photography is one huge stream of tradition into which we can step and refresh ourselves.

"P.S. So good to hear that your renewed eye gives you a refreshed look into the tradition."

Mim: "You've inspired me to drag some of my much-neglected photo books off the shelves, dust them off (sadly, literally) and dive in on a regular basis. I hope I can turn it into a habit. I'd kinda forgotten that, much like I get inspired by a good image shared online, I have a perfectly good source of inspiration just sitting here!"

scott kirkpatrick: "I have a sizable collection of photobooks, accumulated over almost 50 years, and your point about only looking at their shiny covers to recall the good feeling I had when I got 'em is right on target. Ouch, well maybe 80% of them have not been off their shelf in the past few years. And the point made in a comment above about not buying what you already have is also relevant. The post below about photobooks that have been worn to a nub by student handling reminds me that if you look through Parr and Badger's Photo Books History I, II, and III, their collected examples, while still properly covered, have been handled a lot and show it. The philosophy that I like on this comes from the artists and writers of the Toy Story series (I just saw #4). The life in any object comes from the signs that it has been enjoyed!"

Geoff Wittig: "I've discovered the downside to a very large collection of photo books: I become paralyzed by choice. When I have some free time and feel like perusing some good photographs I walk into my library...to confront several thousand volumes. Let's see, should I give another look to Ansel Adams' Examples: The Making of 40 Photographs? Maybe I should check out Charlie Cramer's beautiful little book of Yosemite images. Or maybe one of Eugene Richards' heartfelt documentary books. Or.... Next thing you know, it's time for bed. Kind of like wasting a half hour spinning through the choices on Netflix without watching anything. Sigh."

Mike replies: Nice problem to have though!

Comments

[Stan B.]

Welcome back to the living, breathing world!

What I've tried to do the last dozen or so years is buy books that are somewhat out of my usual scope of familiarity. I've passed on some really good books simply because I've already amassed a lot of similar work... Basta! It also saves a lotta cash I don't have, and helps expand the horizons.

[Dan Khong]

Mike

Firstly, it's good to know that your graft is successful, even though it's happening to one eye first.

In the world of the blind, the one eyed man is king.

Secondly, in the world of story telling, nothing better than telling a story of our second chances in life. Next generation can learn from our legacy.

Dan K.
Singapore

[Stan B.]

And now for a word about... ebooks!

https://www.wired.com/story/microsoft-ebook-apocalypse-drm/?utm_source=pocket-newtab

[John Bauscher]

Check out Borges essay On Blindness. It explains sense decline better than any other. Also the place of books in a life is always a part of his literary journeys.

[John W]

A Photo Book is a portable exhibition you can revisit anytime. You would never "run" through an exhibition like Superman flipping pages. Slow and considered savouring each; linger a while at the ones that really speak to you ... then move on.

[MartinP]

I had a photo-book crisis the other day. In a secondhand shop, browsing along the shelves, I came across the Ansel Adams books "The Negative" and "The Print". The classics for a darkroom printer such as myself, or perhaps not.

Flicking through it became clear that there was little information that I didn't already have covered, and generally with more up-to-date materials. I put the two books back in their place and was rewarded for my sensible decision by a copy of Brassai's "Paris by Night" a few shelves further on. This book made it's way home with me.