Artists in the Archives Exhibit at the Greenburgh Public Library

Recently I had a chance to check out Artists in the Archives: A Collection of Card Catalogs at the Greenburgh (NY) Public Library. There was a New York Times article about the exhibit, but I first learned about it when Artists in the Archives was featured on the Library as Incubator blog (post 1; post 2).

The exhibit is on display from April through September 2013 on the second floor of the library's gorgeous new (as of 2009) green building.  Here's how Artists in the Archives is described on the library website:

More than 85 artists, poets, writers, musicians, librarians and creative thinkers have contributed to the collection of art contained in the drawers of library card catalogs on display on the library's second floor. (exhibits page)

The exhibit consists of three separate installations:  "Book Marks" by Barbara Page, one artist, one card catalog; "The 'Alternet'" by Carla Rae Johnson, over 70 artists, one card catalog; and "The Call to Everyone" by JoAnne Wilcox, one card catalog for everyone.  Artists in the  Archives is a very friendly, hands-on exhibit -- notice how all the labels say "Browsing Welcome."  I took lots of photos.

The exhibit had a that encouraged visitors to leave feedback. I was happy to oblige.

I'll start my overview of the exhibit with "Book Marks," which was my least favorite of the three.  "Book Marks" was the least interactive of the installations as it was fully contained within a glass exhibit case.  The glass also made it difficult to photograph (the black and white pattern evidenced in the pair of close-ups is the shirt I was wearing reflected in the glass).

Rather than catalog cards, artist Barbara Page's project utilized book cards, the kind that lived in pockets in the back of library books prior to the computerization of libraries.  As you can see in the image above, the installation included a card file, but it lacks the rod used to tether catalog cards to the drawer.

I assume that the reason the installation encased precisely because her altered cards would be particularly easy to steal otherwise.¹ I liked looking at Page's work and seeing how the text on the individual cards inspired her art, but this installation was destined to play 3rd fiddle to the others simply because it disallowed participation while the others encouraged it.


When I arrived at the exhibit, "The 'Alternet'" installation looked just as it is pictured on the left. Two the drawers had been left out on one of the cabinet's built-in trays, evidence of a previous visitor's interaction with the installation.

Each of the drawers of this large cabinet were labeled with individuals names (one or two to a drawer).  Those labels indicate the artists whose work is contained within each drawer (50 drawers, 70 artists, including the organizer Carla Rae Johnson).  The work within the card catalog as a whole is varied.  Some cards are drawn or painted upon.  Others have photographs or other printed material affixed to them.  And others have been augmented by three-dimensional objects.

The image above shows three of the drawers open to a random location.  The drawers are not in any order in the cabinet and I have to admit that I had to resist the urge to arrange them all alphabetically by the authors' last names.  Below are close-ups of a couple of cards that I especially liked.  I stupidly did not take note of the artists and I can't even make out the name on the visible label (especially not without a full list of contributor names to work from).²  

There is a Facebook group for "The 'Alternet'"(link).  I did try to suss out appropriate attribution by going through its many photo albums, but I didn't find an exact match and am not confident enough to even list a possible author for each of the cards.  I am planning to visit the exhibit again and when I do, I will attempt to locate these two cards again and take note of their authorship.


When I first started exploring the exhibit, "The Call to Everyone" installation seemed the least appealing to me.  It consisted of a 25-drawer catalog card cabinet (drawers labeled traditionally) with a 4-drawer card file on top.  There were also a few stamps and stamp pads scattered across their surfaces.  The cabinet contained catalog cards, but most of them were not altered like the ones featured in "The 'Alternet'" installation.  The card file contained loose, unaltered catalog cards.





Of course I hadn't bothered to read the installation's label before I started digging into the drawers. The label explained that "The Call to Everyone" was the most participatory of the installations and encouraged visitors to select four cards (presumably from the card file), alter them with images taken with their cell phone cameras, and return them to the library for inclusion in the installation (presumably in the cabinet). It directed interested parties to www.thecalltoeveryone.com, where further instructions would be available.  The purpose of the stamps and stamp pads also became clear.  You can see how I used one of them below.

I selected my four catalog cards (pictured below) and I have every intention of becoming a full participant in the installation. I already have specific ideas for appropriate images for two of the cards.³ I chose the other two because I was confident that I'd be able to figure out something that'd go along with their content.

 

Expect another post when I've altered my cards and have returned them to the library.

1. For what it's worth, ALL of the altered cards in the other installations could be stolen fairly easily and I'm not just saying this because my library still has a card catalog. Figuring out how to remove a drawer's rod is not rocket science. 
2.  I didn't manage to snap an image of "The 'Alternet'"'s label, which did have the list of names, either.
3.  Russell groaned when I told him where I needed to go in order to take one of them so I may be in for a solo irritating traffic-filled excursion in the near future.

I am the Messenger by Markus Zusak

I am the Messenger by Markus Zusak

I am the Messenger is a book that's been sitting on my shelf for quite some time. I'm quite sure why I kept passing it over. It's a Printz honor book and I associated it with Joan of Arc (confusing it with The Messenger? or maybe because I'd read a review or synopsis of the book that included the protagonist's comparing himself against what others, including Joan, had achieved by the time they were his age), two things that should have made me want to pick up I am the Messenger straight away. In any case, I finally did get around to reading it a few days ago.

I am the Messenger is told in the first person and opens with a bank robbery in progress. That sounds interesting and compelling, but the first few pages were nothing of the sort (at least for me). The very beginning seemed a bit too familiar so I suspect that I may have started I am the Messenger when I first acquired it and that unremembered false start with the novel would explain my reticence to pick it up again. This time I soldiered through Ed (narrator and protagonist) and his friends baiting the bank robber (who is armed even though they think he's incompetent) and the further I got into the story, the more invested I became in Ed and his quest(s).

Playing cards with cryptic messages are delivered. Ed Kennedy, our hapless nineteen-year-old taxi-driving protagonist, must follow the clues where they lead him and trust his instincts (to effect change within the lives of the individuals to whom he's led) because, in the words of the puppet master, "[his] life depends on it" (113).

The one thing that disappointed me was the reveal. I appreciated the story's resolution (what happens with each of the main characters), but I thought the reveal was a bit much. While I admit that there is something intellectually satisfying about who is responsible for the cards/quests and Ed's transformation, I personally would have preferred for it to have remained a mystery. That being said, I really did enjoy I am the Messenger. I liked the story and I loved its message.

The scene where Ed goes to the public library is one of my favorites. Not just because Ed goes to the library to do research, but because he's coming into his own, standing up for himself, and not letting others make him feel inadequate. Not that I condone talking back to librarians, of course.

"Listen," says the library man. I'm at the counter with all the books. "You can't borrow that many. There's a limit, you know [...]"
[...]
He looks up. "You still want all those books, don't you?"
"That's right." I pile them up onto the counter from the floor. "Basically, I really need them, and one way or the other, I'm going to get them. Only in today's sick society can a man be persecuted for reading too many books." I look back into the emptiness of the library. "They're hardly jumping off the shelves, now, are they? I don't think anyone else wants them just now." (211)

I also liked Ed's first interaction with "the library man," but the whole conversation was a bit long and the best bit isn't quite as good taken out of context.

my favorite library?

Reading through the most recent issue (March/April 2012) of The University of Chicago Magazine, I was struck by the photograph (far right in the screenshot above) taken by Jared Ryder of the stacks of the Reg (ie. the Joseph Regenstein Library) that accompanied Amy Braverman Puma's "Visceral Chicago" article.¹
Cue a wave of nostalgia for my undergraduate years. Oh how I loved the Reg. The open areas with their its color-coded carpet floors ("my" locker and carrel were on a discipline-inappropriate floor, the 4th I think it was, since I preferred the ambiance). The stacks with all their treasures. The intensity of its inhabitants. Its quirky architecture and backstory (supposedly shaped like the continental US with windows reminiscent of its namesake's claim to fame: the windowed envelope).  How quintessentially U of C it was (not architecturally, but intellectually).

The library has changed in the years since I left Chicago (granted not as much as my childhood public library, which was razed and replaced by a larger, greener building in 2007), I know it has. 700+ undergraduates took up residence practically right next door just months after I graduated.   How could that not change the demographic?  There's a new alien library building (Mansueto Library) adjacent and connected to the Reg, and collections have been and continue to be relocated. And surely countless other factors I know nothing about.
I supposed that I can't say that the Reg is still my favorite library.  It may have changed beyond recognition. It is, however, the library of my dreams.

1. Inexplicably in the print edition, it is the photo of the comfy chair (far left in the screenshot above) from yet another U of C library (Harper Memorial Library) that is the centerfold and opener to "Visceral Chicago" by Amy Braverman Puma. Regardless of my personal library preferences, I think this was a poor choice. Any of the others, especially the two that didn't make it into the print edition (another shot of Harper comfy chair, Reynolds Club with superstitions seal), would have been better. The crease, though right at the division between upper and lower cushions, makes the item featured even more difficult to identify especially when readers first encounter the images rotated 90 degrees to the left.

Booking Through Thursday - Library Week

I saw that National Library week is coming up in April, and that led to some questions. How often do you use your public library and how do you use it? Has the coffeehouse/bookstore replaced the library? Did you go to the library as a child? Do you have any particular memories of the library? Do you like sleek, modern, active libraries or the older, darker, quiet, cozy libraries?

OK, confession time. I actually don't have a library card for the local public library system. That's not to say I don't use libraries. I do have an NYPL card and I frequently check books out of the libraries at the university. I'm also a huge fan of inter-library loan service.

I do like going to bookstores and browsing and was very much in the habit of using the bookstore as a library for a while, but we have definitely been buying less. We've been getting books through BookCrossing and book trading sites like BookMooch. Now I tend to only buy books if I'm planning to keep them permanently or as gifts.

Many of my childhood memories have to do with the library. I wrote about one of them in this post. Personally I like both "sleek, modern, active libraries" and "older, darker, quiet, cozy libraries" for different reasons.