Exhibiting (outmoded) books in the museum:
An analysis of the Bibliotheca Wittockiana museum and its artists and the legitimation of books
Taking a break from my academic studies, I took a course in bookbinding to learn about this art. During that period, I discovered the Bibliotheca Wittockiana in Brussels; a museum specialized in the book arts and bookbinding and named after its founder Michel Wittock, a well-known bibliophile in Belgium. At the same time, I took part in a seminar on ‘the history of books until today’ which raised the question of books’ future use and their possible format. All around me I heard a kind of fatalistic and regrettable anticipation that books were going to end up disappearing and be replaced by new technologies. In her article
Artists’ books and the cultural status of the book the author Johanna Drucker, identifies this
way of thinking, observing that:
The current hype is that books are about to be an extinct species, along the lines of typewriters, carbon paper, and other instruments and products of outmoded technology. […]Only kinky fetishists or the electronically
disenfranchised will continue to think of books as elements of their daily life, while the rest of us, it is foretold, are condemned to snuggle up at night to electronic screens, keep our secret diaries on fuzzy-thinking notepads, and read endlessly mutating hypertext off a pixilated monitor. (12)
She argues that because of the physical experience of books and the legitimation they have, new technological tools will never be able to replace books. She sates that “[t]he book form is still a form of legitimation, and may remain so as the ephemerality and mutability of
electronic media continues to emphasize that contrast” (Drucker 41). By arguing that the book is a form of legitimation, Drucker points out that the form of the book is carrier of meaning because of its cultural status; the form of the book is a cultural icon (41).
In his essay Remarks on Marshall McLuhan – Do Books Matter? the author Brian Baumfield talks about the ground on which books are being presented (in terms of time and space but also the social, political, and economic ground), and received by users. The change of ground (in an age of new communication technologies, for instance) is what will modify the use and purpose of the book. In his essay, he argues that: “the book does not have its meaning alone” referring to the fact that a book’s function is highly influenced by the ground on which it stands. He continues by saying that “[t]o the literate world the book serves a myriad of roles, ornamental and recreative and utilitarian. What is to be the new nature and
form of the book against the new electronic surround?” (371-372). Although this question seems hard to answer, as we do not possess the means to travel in time (yet), we can try and look at what is already happening in the present:
The book is not moving toward an Omega point; [. . .] for new graphics and new printing processes invite the simultaneous use of a great diversity of effects. [. . . ] Thus the current range of book production varies from the cultivation of the art of the illumination of manuscripts, and the revival of hand-presses, to the full restauration of ancient manuscripts by papyrologists and photographic reproduction. [. . . ] The age of electric technology is the obverse of industrial and mechanical procedure in being primarily concerned with process rather than product, with effects rather than ‘content’. (Baumfield 373)
If the age of electric technology is more concerned with ‘effect than with content’ influencing the way books are being produced, used and perceived, what is it then in the book that people are afraid of losing if content remains accessible through other mediums?
With the growth in literacy these past few centuries, the content of printed books has become accessible to a wider audience and increasingly central to the process of learning and transmitting knowledge. But today, new forms of technologically advanced tools are
emerging with the capacity to transmit written content, albeit in a different manner from the printed book. As these new technological tools take a bigger place in transmitting knowledge and information, the future of the form of books is being debated and questioned. The real concern that seems to be emerging is the disappearance of the format of the book, as new mediums are taking over as conveyors of knowledge. The content is not directly being questioned; one could wonder whether it is the book as an object and as the medium of writing that will disappear. In that context, the Bibliotheca Wittockiana is an interesting institution that can stimulate our thinking about the possibilities that the format of the book has to offer and the types of new space in which books could evolve such as the space of the museum.
The Bibliotheca Wittockiana defines itself as the museum of ‘book arts and
bookbinding’, standing for what are mostly considered art books, fine books or collector’s books . Therefore, what goes into the museum is not the latest bestseller novel. Rather, as I will describe in Chapter 1, it is a selection of books that have been carefully compiled over the last several years by the bibliophile and collector Michel Wittock. Already this distinction focuses the museum more on the art of making books and special editions, with particular emphasis on the form of the book and its effect more than on its content, as I will explore in
Chapter 2. Although it is true the museum also displays books for their content, as I will illustrate in my analysis in Chapter 3, the museum’s concern specifically remains the book arts and bookbinding and does not consider notions such as communication or the
transmission of knowledge as the central identity of the museum and perhaps, it could be argued, of the book. In other words, literature and therefore literary content is not made central in the way the museum defines itself. I find it quite interesting therefore to be confronted with books in the setting of this museum. Given that books are now presented there in display cases - as if they were the vestige of a bygone era or contemporary art pieces that could only exist in the setting of the museum or more generally be exhibited for their artistic qualities - does this museum confirm the theory that the book format is about to disappear from people’s daily use?
In this thesis, I will look at the way in which the Bibliotheca Wittockiana and some of the artists exhibited there contribute to the debate on the remaining utility of books and more precisely on the mutability of books (what are the new natures and forms the book can take?). In particular, I will focus on the elitist quality that the book can assume in an age where almost any type of literature and any type of book has become accessible at lower cost. As we are talking about the cultural status of the book and the legitimation that goes with that, the books that the museum exhibits are, in this sense, placed on a higher level of legitimation, being considered as ‘exhibitable’ in a museum.
To investigate these dimensions, I will, in the first chapter, look at the museum as a whole in the light of different theories on museums themselves. I will explore the mechanism through which museums, and more specifically the Bibliotheca Wittockina, transmit
knowledge and memories (of books). I will look at how this mechanism works and what purpose it serves. I will identify the museum as an institution preserving a bourgeois identity and producing contemporary secular knowledge. For that I will look at the impact of bringing a book into a new setting, i.e. that of the museum. The museum setting will bring me to question the notion of accessibility, looking at how the museum setting enables Wittock to present his book collection to a wider audience and how the book is made accessible to its audience. Also, does the museum format question the book’s utility by changing or even erasing its former utilitarian purpose as it is made physically unreachable and in some cases unreadable? To address this question, I will therefore explore the notion of aesthetic value ascribed to these books and to objects in a museum in general and how they serve the bourgeois subject.
by Jean Boghossian and presented as part of the museum’s permanent collection. Artists’ books are central to the debate on the changing utility of books because they highlight their hybrid quality and therefore necessitate some attention. In between the purely artistic form but still referring to the cultural status of the book in our society, the artist’s book and Jean Boghossian’s Trou Noir, more precisely with its black hole in the middle, challenge the limits of defining what makes a book. In the case of Trou Noir, we are faced with a book that totally questions the notion of textuality and textual content, as the middle of the book has been burned. As we are more concerned with the form of the book than its content, it suddenly seems obvious to question where the legitimation ascribed to the book comes from if there is no textual content and whether this book challenges the notion of knowledge in a book. Can Jean Boghossian’s book still be a medium of communication or should it stand only for the aesthetic value ascribed to it by the museum’s display cases?
In the third chapter I will analyze one of the temporary exhibitions called The beauty
of the Devil devoted to the books of poetry and illustrations of Jean de Boschère, a Belgian
artist from the 1920s. This chapter will allow us to explore the notion of textuality and literary content that is missing in our second chapter. How does the book actually gain its
legitimation? Is it through the presumption that it contains some written knowledge? I am thus going to look at the notion of textuality which is central to the first imaginary notion of a book. Boschère’s books contain text and images, and as the maker of both he creates books that reminds us of the medieval themes and illuminations. The exhibition focuses on the dialogue that can exist between these two media, the word and image. His drawings, which the exhibition presents as unclassifiable forms, are what he uses to fight against identity stigmatization, after an accident that disfigures his sister. Interestingly, the debate on word and image reveals that illustration has been mistreated for already some centuries now, reinforcing the notions of literacy and illiteracy. Boschère also tries to fight the stigmatization of illustration. Finally, by making his writing aesthetically appreciable, Boschère seeks to reconcile this distinction between word and image but also between the content of the book, usually seen as purely the written word, and the manufactured qualities of the book, perhaps looked at more for the aesthetic qualities.
Chapter I: Bibliotheca Wittockiana: a museum preserving a bourgeois identity and producing contemporary secular knowledge
Museum entrance (view from the street): Picture taken from an article by the Belgian French-speaking state broadcaster RTBF on the Bibliotheca Wittockiana.
Originating from the private library of Belgian book collector and bibliophile Michel Wittock, the Bibliotheca Wittockiana opened its doors to the public in 1983 as a museum devoted to the “Book Arts and Bookbinding” (“Wittockiana”). It has continued to pursue this activity to this day. The museum is situated in the municipality of Woluwe-Saint-Pierre, one of the more affluent residential neighborhoods of Brussels. Described by the
brusselsmuseums.be website as “the only museum in the world whose primary focus is art bookbinding” (translation mine), its collection is presented as highly valuable in the bibliophile world1. The website notes that in Michel Wittock’s museum “there is a unique
collection of bookbinding decorations testifying to the change in styles over five centuries, from the Renaissance to contemporary creations” and sums up what the museum contains (translation mine):
the museum also has various remarkable collections such as the study of the poet Valère-Gille, grandfather of the founder of Wittockiana […], the Lucien
1 To highlight the valuable nature of its contents, the museum was built in the form of a safe by the architect Emmanuel de Callataÿ, a friend of Wittock (“Wittockiana”)
Bonaparte2 collection (books, letters, photographs) and numerous books of
contemporary artists, book-objects and sculptures. The Bibliotheca
Wittockiana also has a unique collection of some 500 rattles […] from all over the world and spanning four centuries of history. Each year the Wittockiana organizes temporary exhibits on the themes of bookbinding and books. The museum is also a place where people come together for activities and events. A bookbinding workshop complements the museum’s activities […]. (translation mine)
By becoming a museum open to the public, the Bibliotheca Wittockiana has therefore developed from a private library to a place of exchange, research and exhibition devoted to books.
In this first chapter, I will analyze the effects of making Wittock’s collection available to the public in the form of a museum. I will explore the notions of accessibility and aesthetic value that is attributed to Wittock’s collection and that is linked to the context of the museum which displays books. For this purpose, I will analyze one of Wittock’s interviews where he discusses his passion for books and the vision he has of his collection. In combination with this interview, I will refer to different theories on the museum as an institution producing knowledge and preserving a social identity (i.e. that of the bourgeoisie in this specific case). The goal of this chapter is to explore the mechanism through which museums and more specifically the Bibliotheca Wittockiana transmit knowledge on books and elevate objects to a status of preciousness and great value, offering in that sense a new ground on which the book can be understood.
Presenting Wittock’s collection in the museum
Wittock has so far collected and preserved some 6,000 books. However, the
Bibliotheca Wittockiana building does not have the capacity to present the entirety of his
collection. Therefore, the Wittockiana has developed as a dynamic place where different exhibitions of Wittock’s books but also books from external collectors and artists can be presented throughout the year. The external books sometimes complement Wittock’s collections or are an independent temporary art show in themselves. By transforming the
2 Michel Wittock’s wife is a direct descendant of Napoleon’s brother, Lucien Bonaparte. This is why the museum has some family heirlooms, including substantial archives and documentation on Napoleon’s brother and his family. (“Le fond” ).
Bibliotheca Wittockiana into a museum, Wittock has opened the building’s doors to other
books and artists. He has thus made room for an exhibition space that can accommodate more than just his own collection and has also maintained a space for a library on the second floor of the building.
Bibliotheca Wittockiana’s library. Picture taken from wittockiana.org website.
In this library, the museum offers visitors the possibility to consult books on the art of bookbinding and the many aspects related to it. But to use the library, the visitor has to pay the 5-euro museum entrance fee. In other words, the library is considered part of the museum, not an independent part. Strengthening this notion is the fact that some of Wittock’s oldest books are exhibited in display cases in the library itself. This room is therefore also part of the exhibition and not only a library in the strict sense of the word.
In his interview, Wittock addresses the issue of exhibiting books in museums. He observes that books are seldom central to an exhibition. He cites several reasons for this. First, he says, books are not really considered for their artistic and aesthetical value and therefore when used it is usually as documentation for other types of art pieces and exhibitions. But also and most importantly for Wittock, exhibiting and displaying can in itself be harmful to the book. When exposed for a long period of time, the book’s paper and colors can become fragile and altered by the light. Moreover, given that the ideal situation for a book is to remain unopened in a library, the displaying of books, leaving them open for an extended period of time, can weaken the structure, i.e. the cover and stitched part of the book.
From his interview, we understand that his decision to put his collection in a museum is not an easy one, because there is the risk of his books being damaged from being open and exposed to light in display cases. But it can be argued too that books in a library can also be damaged from improper handling. Fine books need to be handled with great care, something not everyone is familiar with. This manner of treating books is what Wittock says only “connoisseurs” know how to do. Allowing people who are not familiar with the “value” of
books to handle them could therefore pose a risk; such persons could harm the book (“interview” 10:00-14:00).
Therefore, Wittock has set up his museum in such a way that he can share his
collection of valuable books with a wider audience. Indeed, it is through a system of display cases, as can be seen in the following picture, that he keeps the viewer at a certain distance and prevents any unfortunate accident.
Books that made Europe exhibition. Picture taken from the Bibliotheca Wittockiana website
The museum as preserver and producer of “value”
Bibliotheka Wittockiana charges an entrance fee of 5 euros except on the first Sunday
of each month when it offers free admission. This fairly democratic price allows a wide range of people to have access. In this respect, the museum is therefore a fairly accessible
institution. But if we take into account the museum’s location (municipality of Woluwe-Saint-Pierre), we note a lack of accessibility by public transport, especially on Sundays. This means one is more likely to use a private means of transportation to get there. Even though we cannot say that the museum consciously chose its geographical location for that purpose - the
geographical location reflects more a chance of circumstance (the proximity to Wittock’s private house). Nevertheless one can note that Michel Wittock, being an “industrialist whose wealth comes from the family textile business” (“Portraitt” translation mine) has the means to afford a collection of 6000 valuable books as well as a private house and a library in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods of Brussels. Collecting books is clearly a passion and a hobby that is not economically accessible to all. In this sense, Wittock’s museum is a paradox. As an institution, the museum makes its collection accessible, but its geographical location reduces its accessibility. Its architecture in the form of a safe further symbolizes a lack of accessibility to book collections.
This double facet of accessibility and non-accessibility is also present in the museum’s collection itself. As mentioned earlier, some books are still available for consultation, such as the books on the library shelves and those on sale in the small museum reception/shop. But the rest of the books, which are for exhibiting, have been made physically unreachable by display cases, such as the one in the picture above. Therefore, the books are made both visually accessible by the public format of the museum and physically unreachable because of the fragility of the object and the need to preserve it (one of the purposes of the museum).
Using display cases, which presents the books in a static way, perhaps highlights the aesthetical value of the object presented. Since the 18th century, intellectuals have questioned
the status of objects presented in museums. Bringing objects into a museum, in this case books, tends to narrow their meaning, “redefining them as works of art” and “obscuring their former uses” (Duncan 15-16). The notion of changing utility and meaning of an object
brought into a museum is debated in museum studies. Some consider museum objects: “as not only decontextualized – because removed from their original context- but also ‘dead’”
(Dudley et al. 1). Others argue that “[m]useum objects continue to participate in socialized relationships and interactions and to be attributed particular — and changing — meanings and values as a result” (Dudley et al. 2). This latter point of view therefore considers an object in a museum as acquiring a new meaning. It accepts this change not as something negative but more as a social process in which different objects acquire different meanings and purposes during their existence.
Whatever the case, the notion of the book as an object of beauty certainly has an important role in this museum, as it defines itself as a museum on the art of books and bookbinding. It can be argued that the way in which the viewer gets to experience the book (through a display case) in the different exhibitions changes the more traditional purpose of a book, that of reading its content. This “experience” of the book allows the visitor to pay
perhaps more, if not all the attention to the manufactured quality and by extension to the aesthetic value of the different books.
In his interview, Michel Wittock discusses the value of books. He says that for him book collections are even more valuable or at least more interesting than other types of art collections. For him, the value of the “traditional” book comes from its particular
characteristic of being the medium of some other type of art form, such as literary content and typography or images. Wittock argues that the bookbinder or the artist has to keep in mind the content of the book but needs to respect his own personal artistic or artisanal touch. This is what Wittock calls the “symbiosis of content and container”. Finally, for a reason that is not developed in the interview, Wittock considers that the manufacture of a book always
represents what is occurring in everyday life in society, and that a book’s décor is a reflection of the artistic trends of the day (“interview” 6:00-7:00:). From this interview it appears clearly that Wittock’s has a high esteem for his collection and for book collections in general. For him it is a one-of-a-kind type of collection, and its aesthetic value is particularly up to date. According to Wittock, the book can gain the status of an art piece, and more generally it appears that the aesthetic quality of the book is of importance in the choices he makes for his collection.
But how is precisely aesthetic value determined?
Tony Bennett has made use of the expression the ‘use of uselessness’ to characterize, perhaps pejoratively, the use of aesthetics and its social values. Bennett defines aesthetic as:
a distinctive historical discursive and institutional formation in which the uselessness that the aesthetic attributes to the work of art is invoked to serve particular forms of bourgeois utility; and to retrieve that uselessness for a politics that will critique all forms of instrumentalism in the name of a self-referential humanity. (111)
In Bennett’s view, aesthetics therefore serves the “bourgeois subject”, because aesthetics “has generated a conception of ‘the self-determining nature of human powers and capacity” viewing all forms of domination and instrumentalisation as aesthetics’ enemy (111).
A key figure who has developed theories on the aesthetic value and social function of art is Pierre Bourdieu. In his book L’amour de l’art. Les musées et leur public, the author, in an analysis of the social mechanism of cultural dissemination, observes that “the relationship between visiting a museum and variables such as the socio-professional category, age or area of residence is almost totally defined by the level of education and the act of visiting the museum” (44 translation mine).
In their essay on value, Joseph Leo Koerner and Lisbet Koerner comment on Bourdieu’s work, stating that:
Bourdieu sets out to discover the essentially social function of art. It might seem, he argues, that the experience of art, and the values that derive from that experience, are available to all people equally and individually in, say, the “public” museum, and, further, that good taste is innate ( a sort of secular state of grace). In reality, however, aesthetic experience is a learned disposition, and therefore an inherited privilege mediated by institutions of family and school. Art’s value in modern society, Bourdieu argues, derives from this play between private subjectivity and social reality. Value seems to be a judgement made freely by the individual in his or her irreducible subjectivity, and good taste appears therefore to be a natural proclivity. In fact, these are ways of maintaining social distinctions by masking the real privileges that enable judgements in the first place. (Koerner and Koerner 294)
In the museum, Wittock is able to preserve his objects of value and at the same time make them accessible to a wider audience. However, through the setting of the museum, he confirms and reinforces the aesthetic value that he ascribes to his books. In the case of bookbinding and the art of the book, collecting unique artist-books comes with a price, and the acquiring of knowledge in this regard is not part of a state school curriculum. It could be argued that the value of the aesthetic quality of the book is something that has to do with acquiring certain forms of knowledge. Furthermore, it is the framing of the museum, as I will argue later, that brings a sort of understanding to what has to be regarded as the highest values and truth of a certain community. The format of the museum allows a certain accessibility and at the same time creates a distance with its viewer considered as non-connoisseur. In that sense, the museum preserves but also produces what is considered of value by appearing as a form of secular and rational truth.
The museum as producer of knowledge
I have made reference to Bourdieu’s notion of value and how it reaffirms and perhaps reinforces “social distinction” by appearing as “a judgment made freely by the individual” ( Koerner and Koerner 294). What I will look at now is how museums and exhibitions come to reaffirm, reinforce or produce this system of value.
“Exhibitions are never objective and neutral, but communicate a particular (historical) picture” (Schärer 87). In the exhibition Books that made Europe “Economic Governance and
Democracy from the 15th to the 20th century” which ran until 15 January 2017, visitors saw the names of authors and book titles, which they are most probably familiar with, if familiar with European history:
Books that made Europe exhibition. Picture taken from the Bibliotheca Wittockiana website
In this picture, one can read (from left to right) the names of William Petty, an English economist of the 17th century, and John Locke, scientist and philosopher of the 17th century.
The museum brochure describes the exhibition as:
a selection of some 150 first editions which covers all the themes of the modern economy from the origins of commerce and banking in the Italian city states to today’s economy, passing through the first steps towards capitalism in the Spain of Emperor Charles V, the mercantilist and interventionist policy of absolutist states, the emergence of the new theories of Adam Smith, not forgetting the debate between the disciples of liberalism and supporters of protectionism as a means of stimulating growth in the economies of nations. As these books are enclosed in display cases, one cannot actually read their content. The visitor can only note that, according to the exhibition, these books contributed to the
development of Europe as we know it today. The different books have nevertheless been classified in chronological order from their first publication. Each period has an explanatory sign telling us about the economic and political situation of the time; this gives a timeline and progressive history up to the present day.
Even if one cannot actually read the textual content of these books, through their mode of display, they still convey a feeling of transmitting knowledge and history, being
characterized as first editions and important books in the construction of European history. On the Facebook page of the Bibliotheca Wittockiana, it is stated that the exhibition deals with the:
problem of the secularisation of culture, the development of ‘social science’, the rise of equal opportunities and the affirmation of a social culture. Through six centuries, economic freedom, well-being and democracy have always progressed hand in hand…”(translation mine).
Books appear in the exhibition as symbols of knowledge but also of progress in the course of European history, even if the there is no real or in-depth encounter with the content of any of the books during the exhibition.
In another perspective on the museum as a producer of knowledge, Tony Bennett explores the analogy between the scientific laboratory and the museum in his book Making
Culture, Changing Society3. As in the scientific laboratory, so in the museum, one takes an element from its previous context in order to experiment with it and to create new knowledge and perhaps realities from this object. Bennett’s analogy draws attention to the way in which a museum “brings objects together in new configurations, making new realities and
relationships both thinkable and perceptible” (Bennett 53).
Tony Bennett’s main arguments are the capacities of museums to create new forces and realities which can then be mobilized in social programs. He argues that “museums are able to manipulate those objects on their own terms in ways that make new realities
perceptible and available for mobilization in the shaping and reshaping of social
relationships” (Bennett 54). As we walk into the exhibition room of Books that made Europe
“Economic Governance and Democracy from the 15th to the 20th century”, we get a view of a historical past which is made accessible to us by its clear division in time period and themes, with a chronological and logical evolving order. There is a certain logic which is imposed and which is followed without difficulty. As this logic may seem epistemological or historically
3 Other scholars have expressed their doubts about this comparison, because they argue that the number of interventions that have direct access to the object of study and thus “interfere with the course of that aspect of nature that is under study” is much more present than in the museum” (Bennett 53).
neutral, it could easily be argued that the purpose of this setting does not serve pure historical precision or the factual account of past writings. Perhaps this is because it brings a sort of common understanding of the economic and political situation of Europe today.
In her book Civilizing Rituals Inside public art museums, Carol Duncan confirms this vision by arguing that the space of the museum itself should not be regarded as a neutral space but instead as a space full of meaning structured around what she calls “specific ritual
scenarios” (Duncan 1-2). Although the practice of ritual is often regarded as something appertaining to religions, rituals do not exclude secularity. In that sense, the museum may appear as a neutral institution based on its scientific and secular truth:
it is this truest of truths that help bind a community into a civic body by
providing it a universal base of knowledge and validating its highest values and most cherished memories. Art museums belong decisively to this realm of secular knowledge, not only because of the scientific and humanistic
disciplines practiced in them – conservation, art history, archeology- but also because of their status as preservers of the community’s official cultural memory. (Duncan 8)
It is precisely through that secular and scientific truth that certain realities are made apparent and help in building and defining a community. According to Duncan, institutional buildings, such as the museum, are there to represent, in this case western “beliefs about the order of the world” and therefore position the individual in it by controlling “the representation of a community and its highest values and truths” (8) As the content of the exhibition can be seen as what builds the community – around a common understanding of a past history, for
instance - it is the form of the museum which gives it its epistemological character. As a space of rituals, the community will be associated with those who know the language and codes of museums. It is in that way that museums can “give some a feeling of cultural ownership and belonging while they make others feel inferior and excluded” (Duncan 4). This applies to the form of the museum itself and to its content.
In his chapter Collecting/Museums, the author Donald Preziosi talks about “the most brilliant and powerful genres of modern fiction” referring to the museum (Preziosi 281). He joins Bennett and Duncan’s arguments that the museum and exhibition are imagined as “faithfully ‘representative’ of some extramuseological state of affairs, some real history which, it is supposed, preexists its portrayal or re-presentation in exhibitionary discursive space” (Preziosi 281). Together, the notion of historical narrative and that of valuable art object are thus seen as preexisting the museum’s space, while it is the museum format that
comes to reinforce these notions. But if the museum’s space cannot be seen as a neutral space, what is its purpose after all? Preziosi will argue that:
The museum object [. . .] serves to legitimize a subjectivity organized around notions of composure, consistency, and homogeneity of spirit and mission, as well as of order and clarity of purpose not less than of gender and station of life. In fact, this is the familiar bourgeois ideal of the social subject with a determined and determinate biography or trajectory; a curriculum vitae which must be tended carefully according to its position in the social order; a life which must be clearly legible as an ethical and moral masterpiece (however modest) in its own right. (Preziosi 284)
In this chapter I have talked about the effects of making Wittock’s collection available to the public in the form of a museum. I have discussed how Wittock considers his book collection to be valuable for its aesthetic and historical “value” and how the form of the museum, by its epistemological appearance, reinforces and confirms this idea. I have also examined how the process of putting Michel Wittock’s books and collection in a museum works as a preserver, leading to the question whether the Bibliotheca Wittockiana serves to preserve Wittock’s collection from ‘natural decay’ or preserve the ideal notion of the self-made bourgeois subject by publicly displaying the collection.
The museum preserves the status of his books as highly valuable, perhaps after his own life ends, and in so doing preserves everything else that his collection stands for. The museum format works as the preserver of the community that he stands for and represents a kind of traditional bourgeois circle of collectors and a definer of what constitutes good taste and the new aesthetics trends.
In my next chapter, I will shift my attention from the museum as enabler of the value of an object and focus on the object itself (in this case the book, looking at the
Chapter II: Burning the book, creating the void
Definition of ‘black hole’: “1. specialized physics: a region in space where gravity is
so strong that nothing, not evenlight, can escape. 2. An imaginaryplace in which things are
lost” (Online Cambridge Dictionary).
Picture taken on 18 December 2016 at the Bibliotheca Wittockiana, Belgium
On my first visit to the Bibliotheca Wittockiana, a book catches my attention. Jean Boghossian’s book seems like it has been burnt, leaving the book with a hole in its middle. My theory is confirmed when I read the title printed on the side of the book. As can be seen in the second picture above, one can read in French ‘Trou Noir’ (which means ‘Black Hole’) as well as the artist’s name, Jean Boghossian. The book contrasts with other books in the museum because of its simple appearance, ie. white pages which look partially destroyed by fire.
A closer look at the history behind Jean Boghossian’s Trou Noir reveals that the book was part of a larger exhibition called The very low fires from within organized in the
Bibliotheca Witockiana in 2013. This exhibition was entirely devoted to Jean Boghossian’s
different art works (Bessaa 21). In one of the websites referring to the exhibition, the MuCity visual art magazine, author Muriel de Crayencourt points out to us the paradox, which is in a way humorous, of exhibiting burned books in what she calls “the temple of the old book and
precious book-binding” (referring here to the Bibliotheca Wittockiana) (translation mine).
Two types of books were presented during the exhibition: Boghossian’s collection of burned books, which were mainly dictionaries and art books, and his collection of ‘white books’.
Trou Noir belongs to this latter collection of books handmade by the artist and empty of
textual content (Bessaa 26). Jean Boghossian donated his Trou Noir book to the Wittock collection in appreciation of the exhibition devoted to his work. Today, the book is displayed in a room where Wittock has assembled unique artists’ books from various contemporary artists (“Wittockiana museum”).
The book form, which is consciously used as such, supports the argument of McGann’s, author of The Texutal Condition book, about the understanding of a text. He argues for paying more rigorous attention to the bibliographical aspect of texts, thus to the ‘conditions’ in which this text is made accessible. He uses the ‘bibliographic’ term throughout his book to refer to everything that is external to the literary content, which ranges from the historical context to a self-awareness of the reader’s position in time and space. In the previous chapter, I have discussed at length the context of the museum, with its system of display. This system frames the viewing of Trou Noir and enables it or confirms its
importance and value as an object. Also, it is of interest to note that Trou Noir is now exposed as a single piece and detached from its collection of ‘white books’. But bibliographic also means paying more attention to every other element indispensable to the material realization of this literary content, from the materiality of the book to the editorial processes by which a text becomes accessible.
This raises a series of questions. What happens if there is no text in the first place? Boghossian’s book in this regard has almost metaphorically absorbed any notion of typography in the void of its black hole. What happens when the materiality (or some bibliographical elements) of the book take over textual content, as is the case with Jean Boghossian’s Trou Noir? What is actually happening when the book form is used
significantly and not accidentally? Did the contemporary artist’s Trou Noir book really suck up any notion of textuality in its void? These are questions that the appearance of
Boghossian’s black hole elicits. In this chapter I will examine these questions and explore the limits of defining artists’ books and books more generally. I will look at how an object which stands as a simple, perhaps neutral medium such as the book can perhaps be a vehicle of meaning in itself. Artists’ books are central to the debate on the remaining utility of books because they highlight their hybrid quality and therefore necessitate some attention in the framework of this thesis. As we are more concerned with the form of the book than with its content, in Boghossian’s Trou Noir it suddenly seems obvious to question where the legitimation ascribed to the book comes from if there is no textual content. Does this book challenge the notion of knowledge in a book?
I will first try to determine what an artist’s book is and is not within the limits of this chapter. I will then look at different interpretations of Jean Boghossian’s books how is knowledge produced and understood (not everyone agrees on classifying his ‘white books’ collection in the category of artists’ books), interpretations published by the Bibliotheca
Wittockaina after the 2013 exhibition on The very low fires from within. In examining these
contrasting views on how to define Boghossian’s book, I will also discuss different theories on what constitutes a medium and how to define it, looking at McLuhan’s The medium is the
message theory on how a medium such as the book can take the place of content and be the
message itself, in other words, how medium is always the content of something else.
Framing the artist’s book
As I discussed in the previous chapter, the materiality and aesthetic value of Wittock’s collection has been brought to the fore in the context of the museum. The function of these different books has been somewhat ‘transformed’ or altered. But it seems that the handcrafted aspect of Trou Noir is central to the object. Even if Trou Noir was taken out of the context of the museum, this handcrafted aspect remains central because of the book’s unreadable aspect.
We are faced here with a book that already in its material shape, before being exhibited in the museum, questions the distinction between the book as the recipient of content and the book as an art object. In other words, the material shape questions the book’s functional and aesthetic value. It is not possible to ascertain that nothing has been written inside the book, as the visitor does not have contextual information on the book as it is presented today.
Nonetheless, it seems clear that if something had been written inside, it would hardly be readable because of the big hole in the middle of the book. Now, as the title of the book is precisely ‘black hole’, it might be that the central subject is precisely this hole.
By exhibiting Trou Noir as a single object, Jean Boghossian’s book becomes part of Wittock’s collection of artists’ books. Given that the viewer is now confronted with this object as an artist’s book, we must consider this term. The artist’s book is a complex term that can assume different meanings according to different theories. There has been no general consensus on how precisely to define an artist’s book4 (Rossman). Because the main
characteristic of the artist’s book is to be limitless in the shapes and materials it can use it is pretty hard to define what an artist’s book is and to attribute this practice to one genre. Instead some will argue that the artist’s book is an art practice. In her article Artists’ Books and the
Cultural Status of the Book, Johanna Drucker defines the artist’s book as a practice that
“makes use of the book as a form not just incidentally, but significantly” (15). For her, it is an art practice in itself such as painting, drawing and so forth (17). Nevertheless, on the online Yale University Library website, Jae Rossman5 provides a short description of what an artist’s
book encompasses by referring to many different authors who have worked on the subject. Based on Jae Rossman’s online guide, I will now briefly try to determine what an artist’s book is and is not within the limits of this chapter and complete it with external sources.
The first crucial difference that should be mentioned is the one between books of art and artists’ books. There is a difference between “presenting an artist's work in a book form – a retrospective collection of reproductions – and an artist making a book” (Rossman). In addition to that, other book forms that do have some aesthetic visuals and or value, such as illustrated books, should not necessarily be regarded as artists’ books. In her essay, Drucker would argue that what defines a true artist’s book is its independent nature; she does not
4 It should also be noted that there are many other ways in which this term is used; the term book-object for instance is used sometimes to talk about an artist’s book, or sometimes as a specific type of artist’s book (Yale University Library). In this chapter I will consider ‘book-object’ as an equivalent word to the artist’s book.
5 Associate Director for Special Collections & Public Programs, Arts Library (Yale University Library).
consider the collaboration of authors’ bookbinders and publisher as artists’ books. Artists’ books are produced only by the artist or maker himself (Drucker 15). Rossman argues that the artist’s book is “divorced from the notion of publishing and unrestricted by the economic and structural limitations of manufacture”, leaving space for limitless exploration of the book (Rossman). This freedom from any institution which usually relates to the publishing of books allows the maker to play with diverse materials and concepts and makes the artist’s book a multidisciplinary art form. The artist’s book challenges “existing limitations and definitions” of the book (Rossman). By playing with the definition and limitation of the book with a cross-discipline tendency, it has allowed the artist’s book “to belong to no explicit cross-discipline while referring to many." (Rossman).
The artist’s book appeared at the end of the 19th century but came into its own in the
20th century avant-garde and modernist art period, entering the discourse about the changing
utility and industrial production of the book (Drucker 13). By reflecting on the book itself, the artist plays with its structure, taking it “beyond everyday expectations […].” In order to do so there are several, typical elements that can be listed such as “the production of the work through an accessible (usually inexpensive) means, and the reaction against the established art world/art market” and making the artist’s book a “cross-disciplinary media” (Rossman). Artists’ books generally challenge the meaning and value of collector’s books and the high standard of craftsmanship by making the manufacturing process more visible and central to the work and using inexpensive materials. But an artist’s book also challenges the disposable aspect that the book has gained by its mass production at the end of the 19th and beginning of
the 20th century until today. The book-object is a complex product in which elements of a
textual and/or typographic nature and artistic elements can intervene. The whole work takes on the appearance of a book, or some elements of the book, such as certain materials, the format, sewing methods and so forth. (Marcadé 974).
Jean Boghossian’s Trou Noir does not have any textual content. What catches the viewers’ attention instead is precisely this black hole positioned in the center of the book. By burning the book in its middle from one end to the other, the artist or author transpierces the book violently, shutting down any possible attempt to read textual content if there was to be any. In a museum which describes itself as the museum of the art of books and bookbinding, here we are faced with a book that has been burned and can therefore easily be associated with an act of destruction. According to the author Clive Phillipot, today’s artists’ books are not always positively considered and appreciated. The main reason why artists’ books “today are more defined negatively” is precisely because of this association with destruction or
desecration, making it perhaps a more hermetic communicator (Phillpot 2). In order to render its materiality, the medium itself, more visible, the artist’s book often makes use of a kind of ‘destruction’ or inaccessibility to what could be the textual “content” of the book. Referring to Cornelia Lauf’s book, Artist/authors: contemporary artists’ books, Jean Boghossian’s work could enter the discourse of those books that from the 1960s attempted to question the notion of high-end handmade crafts, also called luxurious books, through “radical approaches to the book as an autonomous art form” (Lauf and Phillpot 78). These radical approaches could be read in the case of Boghossian’s Trou Noir as first the extraordinary ‘sobriety” of his book and secondly the power of the element he has chosen to create forms on his book, i.e. fire.
The manufacturing elements of Trou Noir come to manifest themselves as the fire violently comes to consume the book. As a spatial black hole, the gravity of it forces the viewer to pay more attention to the book form but also perhaps to the aesthetic value of the book and the hole. By destroying part of the book, the viewer cannot but realize the center of the book is missing; the black hole has erased the middle of the book, losing forever the space for a traditional textual content, as the content has now been replaced by a void.
How is a book to be read? Interpreting Jean Boghossian’s art works by Mona Bessaa and Victor Hugo Riego
The Bibliotheca Wittockiana published an art book on the exhibition Les très doux feu
du dedans. The book is written in three languages, French, Dutch and English, and contains
the descriptions and interpretations of Jean Boghossian’s exhibition by two contributing authors, Mona Bessaa, and Victor Hugo Riego. The interpretations are followed by a series of pages devoted to close-up pictures of different books from Boghossian’s collection presented at the 2013 exhibition. In the following section, I will look at the different interpretations that have been provided by these two authors and by the Bibliotheca Wittockiana itself. In doing that I will be able to discuss how Jean Boghossian’s Trou Noir raises questions about the difficulty of defining his work (and by extension about how it is hard to define what makes a book) andmore precisely how Boghossian’s can book be a vehicle of knowledge.
Mona Bessaa has extensively discussed the issue of burned books in her critical essay Jean Boghossian’s Burned Books: Ignated Dichotomies and Poetic of a Blow (Boghossian
20). She states that there are “two words for powerful symbols: symbol of book, symbol of fire and cremation, symbol of the book set on fire (burning)” (21). For her, the use of fire should not be considered an act of destruction in Jean Boghossian’s art, and in his burned books collection. She defines fire as “a vector of change” that through its destructive force brings purification and thus “accomplishes a transmutation of the matter” (23). She argues that “his burned books are the expression of a resurrection, a rebirth. [. . .] The artist advocates an approach deprived of any religious or political content” (24). She pursues her argument saying that “Boghossian’s work does not fit in the register of tragedy, disaster or vandalism (spoliation of cultural property). The book is not “condemned” or “thrown” into the fire” (25).
What she is mainly trying to convey in her text is that Jean Boghossian’s book should not be viewed as an act of destruction but as an act of creation, of ‘coming into being’. Jean Boghossian uses fire to make his work and not to destroy it. It is through the process of fire that his work comes into being, and not the reverse. She pursues her argument by telling the reader that Jean Boghossian’s technique with fire is deprived of any political or religious purpose. She states that what differentiates Jean Boghossian’s book from an act of destruction is the difference between fire and flame:
If fire was commonly expressed in all its greed, with white books it becomes a gentle flame that summons the spectral, the vaporous. This is how fire
distinguishes itself from the flame. The fire is characterized by its power, by its possible transformation into blaze, into a burning and devastating monster. The flame that is more secret, more tender and delicate, more intimate and perhaps more feminine, adopts a poetry that fire doesn’t have. Where fire screams, the flame whispers. (25)
For Bessaa “Jean Boghossian does not reflect the destructions recorded in history. His work is to be read as an informal painting. Served by the immateriality of fire, his experiences are lived like materist questioning.” (Bessaa 27).
According to Bessaa, Jean Boghossian’s books should not enter the discourse of the artist’s book, as she identifies his work as ‘Fine Books’: “White books are what we might call the Fine Books. [. . .] More than book-objects or artists’ books, Jean Boghossian’s white books are art objects of a contemporary bibliophilia. They are great collection books” (26).
In contrast, Victor Hugo Riego does not hesitate to classify the work of the artist as artists’ books in his critical essay Artists’ Books and Book Works by Jean Boghossian. He
argues that Jean Boghossian’s books face the viewer with “the origin of the vision of things” and the “silent speech” that comes from it. In that sense Jean Boghossian’s books remind us that writing is just a trace; “writing then becomes for us a trace” ( 37). The book is no longer an object to be read but to be looked at.
According to Riego, by playing with fire on his book, the artist’s book is: “neither a relic nor a waste, but rather a pristine new object outside any standard category. Its function remains faltering and invites us to think through all these new faces and profiles – a
perception that creates its own object” (37).
Finally the fire is an act of courage that Riego associates with the difficulty and the unexpected events life can bring; “In his books the artist plays with formats in the same manner as life plays with us” (39).
In both cases, fire is central to the argument they are conveying. But Mona Bessaa associates fire with something perhaps more aesthetic. She calls Boghossia’s fire a (poetical, soft) flame that places the book in the domain of fine books. Fire to her is not an act of destruction but an act of artistic creation. It is true that if we look at other books from the white book collection, the traces of fire appear perhaps more ‘delicately’ and poetically than in his other collection where fire completely transforms books making them static. In contrast to the ‘Burned books’ collection, the ‘White book’ collection is to be looked into, with each page offering different forms, colors and holes made by fire. Nevertheless, the books were once again presented to the public through display cases, no longer making it possible to consult and physically touch the books. Coming back to Bessaa’s interpretation, she argues that Boghossian’s books are lived like materist experience. Drucker argues in her article that “[t]he fascination of material, and the possibilities for having experience in material terms, only intensifies as the world of the virtual looms with its synthetic simulation of what is already a mediated life” ( 41). But today, Trou Noir is still presented in a display case. Drucker argues, what will keep the book alive is precisely this materist questioning, but the museum context does not allow the viewer to enter into contact with the artist’s work.
In contrast, Victor Hugo Riego argues that fire enables the book to become an object to be looked at instead of read. His interpretation reminds us that writing too is an act of vision. Writing can also be observed. Can visual aesthetics be read then? In a certain manner, that is what Riego does when he argues that Boghossian’s work is about the challenges that life brings us. In that sense, unlike Bessaa who appreciates Boghossian’s art more for the
aesthetic value of the whispering, poetic flame, Riego associates Boghossian’s flame or fire with an act of courage in a life that continues to bring new challenges.
Is textuality replaced by fire on the book?
Without any textual content the focus is on the book form itself. But is the book central to the artist’s attention or did the book just shift from one type of medium (the recipient of typographical content) to another (a sort of canvas for Boghossian’s flame traces)? What differentiates this book from other mainstream or traditional book formats is that the viewer can doubt the actual presence of a textual content because of its appearance as a contemporary artist’s book. Contemporary artists’ books, as Drucker would argue, “emerge from a context in which works no longer gained their identity as painting, sculpture, music or dance, but instead from their conceptual premises” (Drucker 17). And this is clearly illustrated when Boghossian uses fire to answer the question how to paint today? (Bessaa 19). Also, contemporary artists’ books are often regarded as resulting from the current crisis in “what seems like an ever-increasing array of alternatives for textual transmission”. These
alternatives for textual transmission and communication in general question the position and the remaining utility of the book in its traditional form (Lurz 349). Can books still be a medium of communication or should they stand only for their aesthetic and perhaps historical value as objects?
The French contemporary artist Coco de Téxèdre states on her webpage: “the book, while being the medium for the written word, with or without images, is first and foremost an object, an object that is sometimes aesthetic” (Téxèdre translation mine). By treating the book primarily as an object, the artist reminds the viewer that the book should be looked at as a whole rather than solely in terms of textual content and its ability to transmit textuality (typographical textuality). McLuhan explains that the content of our medium sometimes makes us forget about the effect of the medium itself. In other words, we tend to take the content of the medium as the sole message. But then he suggests that every content is merely the medium of something else (McLuhna 226-227). This would also mean that the medium itself can be seen as the message. In that sense, McLuhan’s theory correlates with that of the artist’s book: Black Hole being burned in its middle sends a clear message of unreadable textuality, making the book materiality more apparent. The medium of the book is more apparent as the fire has directly consumed the structure and the materiality of it. More importantly the medium has become central to the subject, because by erasing textuality the
book questions its function as an object. Still what remains central to the book is its burned appearance, which allowed both Bessaa and Riego to comment and interpret Boghossian’s books. Has typography then been replaced by fire?
If we look at the notion of text and textuality according to McGann in his book The
textual condition, he suggests that text could be seen as something other than solely
textuality/typography, when he refers for instance to ‘television text’ in which the visual communicates rather than any written words. The idea that art also communicates meaning (perhaps more visually than textually) is not new. However, what is of interest is that for McGann what constitutes the meaning of a text or any type of communication is not only written words but everything that surrounds and supports this writing. In that sense, by playing with the fire, Boghossian’s book plays and highlights the different cultural icons that the book as an object stands for. When Bessaa argues in her interpretation that Boghossian’s book should not be looked at as an act of destruction, she refers to the fact that books are an important signifier of cultural historical identification of different communities. She does not see Boghossian’s art work as a political or religious act of destruction of other identities.
At this point of the analysis, I have discussed some of the possible effects such a book has, as we have seen in the two different interpretations making two very different claims. The difficulty of defining this work appears in its format. Also, as the book does not seem to have a life outside the museum, can it still be considered a book? In the context of the
Bibliotheca Wittockiana museum, which claims to represent the art of books and
bookbinding, we are faced with a book whose materiality depends on the unpredictability of the burning flame to create new forms and colors - unlike the controlled and precise
manufactured elements of certain collector books - therefore challenging the notion of high art.
This hesitation to define Trou Noir illustrates the difficulty of defining what makes a book. Its ability to transmit, communicate, by its textual content? Given the format of the museum, the notion of typography is already questioned; textual content has been given less importance than aesthetic qualities in the context of the Bibliotheca Wittockiana. But can textuality also be looked at from its aesthetic value, or is it something purely of the rational thinking mind? Black hole has divorced from any typographic content, becoming an object of the visual senses. By playing with the format of the book, the artist tends to highlight the value and perhaps cultural icons of the book itself, to show that books are not an invisible
medium that solely bring meaning through their textual content. In that sense, Boghossian’s book questions the limit of defining a book by showing that not only content but also medium emerges from a larger social, political and historical context. His book reminds us that the form of the book is capable of changing as it has not always served the same purpose in history and might undergo new changes.
In this chapter, therefore, we have looked at the specific case of artists’ books and seen how content is dependent on its recipient in that the recipient gives access to the content. In the previous chapter we saw that, like the artist’s book, the museum too is a recipient that could thus influence how we get access to its content. In my next chapter, I will narrow my focus further, concentrating on content. I will explore, through a book exhibition held at the
Bibliotheca Wittockiana, the interplay between words and images and how this defines the
book. I will examine the work of a 20th century Belgian artist inspired by the medieval
illuminists and for whom images were of the same value as words and required the same intellectual abilities.
Chapter III: Dialogue between words and images in Jean de Boschère’s books
In the exhibition The beauty of the Devil, which ran from 15 February to 28 May 2017, the Bibliotheca Wittockiana presented works by Belgian artist Jean de Boschère. In the museum exhibition, Jean de Boschère was presented as an unclassifiable figure and described by the exhibition brochure as “a rebel image-maker from the 1920s”(translation mine). The brochure adds that his art is situated between symbolism and avant-gardism and inspired by the medieval illuminists. Following an accident that disfigured his sister, he used what Veronique Jago-Antoine describes in Dire et (contre)faire as the “deliberate esthetics of (dis)figuration” (16 translation mine). Heavily influenced by this accident that irreversibly changed his sister’s life, the artist “devotes his life to art to combat the identity stigmatization by creating
unclassifiable forms” (Wittockiana museum translation mine).
Considered by the museum a writer, an illustrator, a painter and a sculptor, the exhibition, without losing its focus on books, tries to convey Jean de Boschère’s works as a whole. It presents to the viewer some of the multiple forms of his art, ie. his portraits,
paintings, and poems. Nevertheless, the museum brochure focuses more on his books, making them central to the exhibition. They are the medium Boschère uses to express his cross-disciplinary art, producing both images and literary content which as we learn from the exhibition brochure make references to some of the medieval themes and to illuminators.
In that sense, the viewer is no longer faced with a book that only has material qualities (the medium as an art piece), as we saw in the previous chapter with Jean Boghossian’s Trou
Noir. In this case, not only the materiality of the books (hardbound leather covers as external
medium) but also the literary content (words and images as internal aesthetic qualities) are on display in the glass cases and catch the visitor’s eyes. In Chapter 3, I will focus on this tension that is on display in the exhibition, a tension between the multiple forms that Jean de
Boschère’s art takes (and which I identify as intermedial art). I will particularly focus on the tension between word and images in Boschère’s oeuvre, mainly in his books. By entering the debate of word and image, it soon becomes apparent that the defining lines that separate one from the other are fragile. Also, his medieval references allow him to comment upon this tension and highlight the absence of a manufactured aspect in the context of his time, at the beginning of the mechanized production of books. In that respect, I will analyze these
references to the Middle-Ages in the light of intermediality and theories on word and images. The aim of this chapter is to look into the notions of textuality as carrier of knowledge at the expense of other art forms in this case drawing. This debate is of interest in the framework of
this thesis, as it comments on the notion of legitimation that the book has acquired in our society perhaps at the expense of new technological tools that communicate sometimes differently than written words (such as images, videos, etc.).
An intermedial art
The poem below is one of Boschère’s art pieces in the first room; in the quest for his identity as an artist, he plays with the notion of his intermedial art and his position as artist:
My painting [Dolorine et les Ombres] Is Neither a novel Nor a tale Nor a legend Nor a song Nor a thesis,
But, perhaps, it is a hybrid buttercup, Exposed to the mingled pollen of meadow/prairie, or you see the miscreant buttercup the aquatic buttercup the golden head buttercup the creeping buttercup
and that of the marshes, that of the field, and the one with leaf of plane trees.
Today, I can conclude that my
Book will not go among the others, and that I am a poor, that will not be
With the man of letters. (translation mine)
In this poem, Jean de Boschère expresses how difficult it is to classify his art: his painting, he says, referring to one of his illustrated book Béâle-Gryne and Dolorine and the shadows presented in the second room of the exhibition, is neither a novel, nor a tale, nor a legend, etc. His painting cannot be classified in one category or literate genre of expression. Therefore, he associates it more with what he calls a “hybrid buttercup” a sort of plant that entangles a great
variation of species. Boschère identifies himself in the poem with this unclassifiable figure described by the exhibition, as his concluding sentence puts into tension the notion of writing, painting and drawing present in his art and which takes him out of the world of men of letters. In her book Dire et (Contre) faire published for the exhibition, Véronique Jago-Antoine points out that “The troubling confession [of his poem] leads us to recall that the journey of the signer does not begin like the journey of a writer but like the journey of an artist in revolt against the tyranny of words”(49 translation mine). His poem in that sense reflects a sort of tension with the “tyranny” of words, most probably tangible in the world of literate
intellectuals to which he belongs. From the book Dire et (contre)faire we learn that Boschère belongs to the French-speaking bourgeoisie of Antwerp. In this environment, Jago-Antoine argues “the Law of the Verb essentially reigned” (Jago-Antoine 50).
Feeling the need to express himself in other ways than just with words, Jean de Boschère takes some classes at the Art academy that allow him to develop his drawing and painting skills, without losing his interest in writing (Jago-Antoine 50). In that sense, he slowly develops an art that can be identified as intermedial. The term of intermediality in its simplest meaning can be defined as “all those phenomena that (as indicated by the prefix
inter) in some way take place between media. “Intermedial” therefore designates those
configurations which have to do with a crossing of borders between media” (Rajewsky 46). In the case of Jean de Boschère, we can identify this crossing between words and images, between drawing and writing in the production of his books. In fact, “visual poetry,
illuminated manuscript” (Rajewsky 50) are art forms which are usually seen as part of what constitutes intermedial art. So generally speaking, intermediality “is a communicative-semiotic concept, based on the combination of at least two medial forms of articulation”. Thus, while the different media are used in their own “terms” and materiality, the
combination of at least two different media will form one single and final product (Rajewsky 52). But as this concept seems to differentiate and categorize different types of media forms, it is actually argued that “designating or not designating a particular phenomenon as intermedial depends on a given approach’s disciplinary provenance, its corresponding objectives, and the (explicit or implicit) underlying conception of what constitutes a medium” (Rajewsky 49). In that sense, the intermedial quality of an object is based on “individual instances” (Rajewsky 51).
The notion of individual instances is important in understanding Jean de Boschère works, and more particularly in distinguishing between writing, drawing and painting. To give us a better understanding of the intermedial aspect of Boschère’s books between word and
images, I will refer more precisely to theories that work on the difference and the tensions between words and images.
To see and to say, in between words and images
In a study on Pre-Columbian writing and its vision during the colonial and post-colonial period, the author Walter D. Mignolo refers to the writing of Reents-Budet (1994) in which he argues that “[. . .] in all Mayan languages there is no linguistic or semantic
differentiation among the words for painting, drawing and writing; [. . .]. Technically and conceptually, all were the same creative activity” (Mignolo 193-194). In that sense, he draws attention to the fact that “The distinction among painting and drawing is an occidental feature [. . .]” (Mignolo 193-194). This notion is interesting and helps to realize that the distinction between what is drawn and what is written is not something that exists per se, but that it has been put together, most probably in the occidental feature because of the expansion of alphabetic writing. The process by which word and image (as well as painting and other visual and linguistic fields) become distinct fields can be traced back to the alphabetic character of western communication (Mignolo 293). But this actual separation occurs more definitely in the Renaissance, which seems “characteristic of the kind of social thought – categorizing and dividing society into nobility with its various subdivisions, untitled gentry, artisans, serfs and landless workers – which we call the feudal conception of the Great Chain of Being” (Higgins 49). As this observation was made in 1965, the author argues for its accuracy with his own contemporary world of what he calls “automation” that follows the first two industrial revolutions. Knowing this, I will now turn to precisely this distinction between word and image.
In the study of visual images, what differentiates word and image can be identified as the difference “between the seeable and the sayable” (Mitchell 51). But this distinction is actually based on what is usually ignored, -as we read a book we often do not pay attention to the graphic aspect of the writing- therefore, it does not mean that writing does not involve seeing, in other words, “language can enter the visual field” and images can be described by words (Michell 52). Still it seems that from both sides, the visual field and the linguistic field (i.e. visual study and art history) a certain resistance persists in allowing the other to enter its defining borders. By playing with words and images, Jean de Boschère touches upon this debate where the image is usually seen as an illustrative feature of the written word. Already a
