Sunday, December 19, 2010

book arts

The Minneapolis Center for Book Arts is right by the Megabus stop. I am waiting in a coffee shop facing a glass cabinet full of slim volumes that their authors all, one exciting day, received in the mail as proof that they had indeed published a book.

I am suspicious of most books that have pictures of attractive women on their covers. Unless it is Divisadero, because the image is made interesting in its mirroring.

Like so:

When are you allowed to call yourself a writer? I think I am because all of my jobs since 2008 have been for stringing words together. But if I were not so lucky?

My dystopian impulse assumes that one day, all books will be locked behind glass.

What is a book.

I have a large backpack and a cumbersome laptop bag, so I am afraid to wander too much in this building. I could knock things over and cause trouble.

2 comments:

Jesse said...

When do you become a writer?

Jasper Johns was tired of "becoming an artist" so he burned all of his work up until that point of his life and said something along the lines of "I'm no longer 'becoming' an artist, I am now an artist." I adopted that when I was working on becoming a writer. Except for the burning everything part. Maybe that's where I went wrong.

taylor said...

I like this. I don't think I could burn everything, though. I like looking back at how I got from point A to point B. Process is fascinating.