Announcement to a significant Pollock exhibition, a collaboration with architect Peter Blake.The two men had met two years previous. And when Pollock asked Blake to help him install his 1949 show at Betty Parsons, Blake suggested that he contribute a scale model of what he envisioned as the ideal museum for the exhibition of Pollock’s art. Blake would later write that his design — inspired by Mies van der Rohe (and described in this announcement as “A theatrical exercise using Jackson Pollock’s paintings and sculpture”) — envisioned Pollock’s paintings “suspended between the earth and the sky, and set between mirrored walls so as to extend into infinity” (No Place Like Utopia 111). The model would eventually be given to the artist, who placed it in his studio where it was visible in several of Hans Namuth’s famous photos of Pollock. The model eventually perished, though Blake authorized a reproduction in 1994. OCLC locates just two copies. Early ephemera from this legendary abstract expressionist.
First American publication of Rolfe’s romance between his alter ego, Nicholas Crabbe, and the cross-dressing Venetian gondolier Zildo/Gilda. With a foreword by W.H. Auden, who found it “quite terrifying,” and an introduction by A.J. Symons, Rolfe’s biographer. With an early dust-jacket design by Andy Warhol. [READING ANDY WARHOL p. 27].
“The stand of yews, statues are noseless lichen smirched ghosts; the nomads approach, drums of their marches on stone lane steps; the sound of the engines remembered through plate glass while sitting at at pâté de foie” (157).
Enigmatic and disquieting collection of six short stories and one 90-page novella, neatly and distinctively handwritten in brown ink. The table of contents gives titles for each work, but no author’s name; the bookplate, with initials “A. J.”, offer the only clue to the item’s creator or owner.
The material veers in tone from the parodic to the surreal to the philosophically melancholic; the style incorporates a recondite vocabulary (“the pyral tarantism of being in the world”) and a single consistent, insistent voice, alternating long unpunctuated Joycean streams of frantic consciousness with brief and airless sentence fragments. A perpetual undercurrent of violent sexuality surfaces as much in the settings and scenery as in the events: a car crash; a game of human chess; a blazing furnace; a slaughterhouse.
The authorial narration steps out of its queasy dreamtime now and then to comment on itself (“[I]t would appear that this is the whim of the authors ince reason is no part of the relation”) or to focus on a concrete and precisely dated image: “Week-end Traffic” catalogs automobile makes and models in obsessive, parodic, almost Ballardian detail — a 1931 Alfa-Romeo; a ’28 Lombard, a Triumph Scorpion — and characters offer each other Passing Cloud cigarettes. But for the most part, settings are as hard to place as the book itself. Character names are almost, but not quite, real: Nish, Rogoze, Valetta, Fedor, Shad.
Illustrated with line drawings in brown pen (presumably also by the writer), with occasional accents in black, and brief captions taken from the scenes they illustrate. The execution is skilled but careful, often quoting other artwork (as in the illustration to the final story, “Communication,” whose subject is the Breughel painting Dulle Griet; we see a copy of Brueghel’s scene through the latticework of a window.) Other illustrations appear to be carefully composed from copies or multiple tracings, giving something of the effect of a Max Ernst collage — particularly the images of a horse-headed woman and a lion-headed man, perhaps an intentional quotation from Une Semaine de Bonte. A Piranesi-esque interior gives way to a crowned woman in 20th century corset and garter belt: the Queen.
Although a precise date cannot be given, this book bears the stamp of a London bindery which operated as Bailey Bros. until a name-change in the 1970s, and references in the text place its composition after the 1930s; we estimate the date of production to be circa the late 1960s to early 1970s – though its private library feel perhaps hints at a possible earlier creation.
Bizarre and unsettling, yet also the product of an original voice. In short: a singular artist’s book of unique vision.
Early work from John Holmstrom, published the same year he founded PUNK magazine. At the time, Holmstrom was studying cartooning under Will Eisner and Harvey Kurtzman at the School of Visual Art and Holmstrom’s background helped define the look and feel of PUNK from the start. The first issue, with Holmstrom’s indelible Lou Reed cover, set the pace. As Jon Savage described: “Its cover story was an interview with Lou Reed about his current record METAL MACHINE MUSIC, but, instead of a photo, there was a wickedly accurate cartoon of Reed as metal man: the feature inside was not typeset but told in fumetti. ‘I wanted to see something new in comics,’ says Holmstrom, ‘it fitted the music. Johnny Ramone would always wear cartoon logo T-shirts.’ In issue number one of PUNK, the surrounding artwork is as important as important as Reed’s insults […] When the interviewers follow Reed down the block, there they are in cartoons. The effect was both immediate and distanced, a formal innovation on par with MAD magazine” (ENGLAND’S DREAMING p. 132). This fumetti technique (which Holmstrom almost certainly picked up from Kutzman’s HELP! magazine) would be utilized throughout PUNK’S tenure and was one of its signatures — elements all in evidence in this student publication. OCLC does not locate the title, though there is a copy among Holmstrom’s papers at Yale. A rare comic that served in part as the blueprint for the visual vocabulary of punk.
Photographs from the personal collection of legendary curator Sam Wagstaff, widely known both as a collector and as the artistic patron and partner of Robert Mapplethorpe. Published in conjunction with an exhibition held at the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington. DC. Wagstaff presents his selections in deliberately chosen pairs of images: a Lewis Carroll portrait of a frowning child opposite an equally unamused caged hippopotomus; a twisting, surreal Dora Maar composite photograph faces the kitten waterfall of Dali Atomicus; a reclining Braquehais nude mirrors Elaine Mays’ tabby cat, photographed in the same posture a century later. The collection also includes work by Nadar, Lisette Model, Arnold Genthe, Robert Frank, August Sander, Julia Margaret Cameron, and numerous others from the 19th and early 20th centuries.
After much deliberation, Wagstaff selected a Mapplethorpe still life for the cover image (as well as personally insisting on the color of the pale peach border.) Philip Gester writes: “By choosing this picture [“Tulips, New York”] for the cover, Wagstaff places Robert Mapplethorpe as the contemporary link to the vast history of photography sampled inside.” The scarce hardcover issue to this landmark exhibition, warmly inscribed by Wagstaff.
Five issues of Richard Kern’s infamous No Wave early eighties zines VALIUM ADDICT and DUMB FUCKER, including one issue of YOU SHOULD TASTE WHAT HAPPENS TO: YOU, an apparent one-off. Marking the very beginnings of his career, Kern issued some dozen zines under various names (HEROIN ADDICT being the first), producing them surreptitiously on a Xerox 9500 at the office of a friend. This allowed him to distribute the zines for free: handing them out, leaving them at bus-stops and subway stations. They are in both their look and methods of production and distribution embodiments of the lo-fi aesthetic of No Wave, and these zines hold hands with much of Kern’s later punk-inspired career. David Wojnarowicz contributes to both issues of DF. All issues of his zines are scarce. We have to presume most perished. And OCLC holdings for any of these issues are sparse to say the least. As a group: rare.
In Spanish. Artist’s book produced during Ferrari’s period of exile in Sao Paulo, before his return to Argentina in 1991. Black and white line drawings of increasing complexity, framed by the dictionary definitions of “hombre” and “mujer” at the book’s beginning and “fin” at its end.
Ferrari’s work drew increasing religious censorship and political persecution during the 1960s and ’70s, which escalated until he was forced to flee to Brazil, where he remained for a decade and a half. A resolutely political conceptual artist, Ferrari continued to produce work in a variety of media during his years of exile: sculpture, heliography, drawings and art books, of which this is a notable example.
Well after his return to Argentina, in 2004, Ferrari’s work was again the target of violent protests and censorship, as well as furious religious condemnation from the Archbishop of Buenos Aires — now better known as Pope Francis. A retrospective exhibit included Ferrari’s most famous single work, 1965’s “La Civilización Occidental y Cristiana” (Western Christian Civilization),” a 6-foot sculpture of Jesus Christ crucified on an American fighter jet, and provoked an outraged pastoral letter: then-Archbishop Bergoglio demanded the ‘blasphemous’ exhibit’s closure, and a judge obligingly shut it down (the decision was later reversed). Ferrari dismissed the future Pope’s objections in style, as “a type of favor that Bergoglio did for me.” Throughout his long career, Ferrari held to the principles articulated in his 1968 manifesto: “Art is not beauty or novelty, art is effectiveness and disruption.” Scarce. OCLC locates eight scattered holdings, with just six in the US.
Rare Neoist mail art and zine assemblage. Neoism – equal parts parodic art movement and subcultural affiliation – drew eclectic inspiration from the Fluxus, Dada, conceptual art, and Language poetry movements, reaching a peak of activity in the early 1980s followed by schism and decline.
This collection is one of a long-running series of limited-edition mailings organized by Baroni beginning in the late ’70s: “This tourist portfolio commemorates the first international flight to Akademgorod (the Promised Land of Neoism) as organized in January 84 by Agenzia Neoista Italiana.” Contributors include Jurgen Olbrich, Clemente Padin, Henning Mittendorf, Emilio Morandi, David Zack, Carlo Pittore, Boris Wanowitch, Eva Lake, Ginny Lloyd, Al Ackerman, Pete Horobin, and “Monty Cantsin;” the latter was an “open pop star” identity initiated by Istvan Kantor and used freely and widely by various Neoist artists, as were later iterations “Karen Eliot” and “Luthor Blisset.” OCLC locates no holdings. Rare.
Artist’s book illustrated with black and white woodcut prints, allusions to the biblical creation of birds in the Book of Genesis. Published on the occasion of the exhibition “Kiki Smith: Reconstructing the Moon,” held in September-October 1997 at the Pace Wildenstein gallery. With an additional original color print laid in: a bird, printed in green inks on woven tissue paper.
Publisher’s presentation copy, sent by Kenward Elmslie, founder of Z Press, to fellow poet Ken Mikolowski, co-founder of Detroit’s Alternative Press. With postcard bearing Elmslie’s stylized “Z” logo drawing along with his affectionate inscription. Poem accompanied by a tipped-in illustration reproducing a linocut by Jasper Johns, the artist’s first work in that medium. Clark won the National Poetry Series award for his first poetry collection and would later win the James Laughlin Award for his second; he is also a noted and influential book designer. Quite uncommon despite its relatively recent publication. OCLC shows just four holdings.
Collection of portraits of Sol LeWitt wall drawing installers, with images of the wall drawings themselves, photographed over the course of the 6-month installation of the Sol LeWitt Wall Drawing Retrospective at MASS MoCA. By artist and writer Chris Cobb, himself one of the installers for the exhibition. From his included description: “These were made as tests for the final portfolios made for the museum & for Sol’s widow Carol LeWitt. The portraits haven’t been published, only shown at Mass MoCA.” Portrait subjects are identified on versos by first name and position title; of the several Wall Drawings visible, most are shown in progress, with a few shots of drawings #343 and #146 in a completed or nearly completed state.
As LeWitt wrote in his 1967 essay Paragraphs on Conceptual Art, “When an artist uses a conceptual form of art, it means that all of the planning and decisions are made beforehand and the execution is a perfunctory affair.” Accordingly, his Wall Drawings were recreated each time they were exhibited, as Cobb detailed in a 2008 BELIEVER article: “Early in LeWitt’s career he made the drawings himself, but as demand for them grew it became necessary for him to rely on a small group of draftsmen who could faithfully carry out his instructions, developing techniques specific to each wall drawing…I am working, alongside my apprentice Julia, on Wall Drawing #343. By ‘working on’ I mean that I am attempting to recreate, from a brief page of written instructions, a work of conceptual art.”
A remarkable collection, documenting the process of recreating a body of artwork itself impermanent by design. And according to the photographer, the first time a Lewitt work has been allowed to be documented in process.
brian cassidy bookseller
8115 fenton st.
suite 207
silver spring md 20910
books@briancassidy.net