Stacked & Shelved, photographs of books (2015)

When invited to make an exhibit of my work at Madison's (WI) new central library, I immediately thought of books. Of course. Books are the lifeblood of libraries. Books are in my blood. They have long been a subject of my photography, seen in their various guises and habitats, intermingling visual representations of image and text. The examples shown here are drawn from the project's three groupings: “A Scattering of books, a miscellany of shelves”- accumulated images made over the past few years; “Ex Libris: What Madison is (and is not) reading”- examining the interiors of the outdoor book boxes known as Little Free Libraries; and “Stacks and spines”- reprising assembled friezes of books, from my last garage installation (see Garageography, also in the Projects section). ------- EX LIBRIS (A PAGE FROM A YET-TO-BE-WRITTEN AUTOBIOGRAPHY) -reflecting on Ann Patchett's story in the New Yorker (3/1/21)- "How to Practice" (getting rid of one's possessions, "because possessions stood between me and death.") I'm just thinking how the words self and shelf have an essential connection, how by adding an "h" the words are linked as are shelves to selves when books are added, books, which like heavenly bodies, our bodies, become the DNA and cell structure of our random nature, the garments of our souls like daft and draft like wave and weave or warp and weft though I realize it's not quite the same thing perhaps somewhere between clothing and clotting what you cover yourself in becomes a clog in the system of living and dying the slow death of life, of the living shelves and selves, the one, ever expansive, the other- the latter- sooner or later must relinquish the DNA of knowledge and curiosity to be passed on to purpose and posterity. LEWIS KOCH Madison, WI, 03.23.21 ----- and this, by Dylan Thomas: "Notes on the Art of Poetry"-- I could never have dreamt that there were such goings-on in the world between the covers of books, such sandstorms and ice blasts of words, such staggering peace, such enormous laughter, such and so many blinding bright lights, splashing all over the pages in a million bits and pieces all of which were words, words, words, and each of which were alive forever in its own delight and glory and oddity and light.