Creators discuss why printed texts still matter

ERR spoke in KETT gallery in Tartu with book designer Maria Muuk, curator Brigit Arop and artist Hildegard, who have each worked with unconventional printed publications. Their discussion explored self-publishing, beautiful books, the third space, collaboration between the art and literary fields, parasitism, humanity and hairiness. The article originally appeared in Värske Rõhk.

Perhaps we could begin with the book itself. Tell me about your relationship with books.

Hildegard: Books are a symbol of stability for me. They are very inconvenient to move house with. I have made that mistake a couple of times, and now I am trying to own as few books as possible. This is an interesting shift, because for my parents’ and grandparents’ generations, the number of books you had at home was a symbol of education. So I feel a little naughty when I refuse to pile books up at home.

Maria: As a committed graphic designer, I am still completely a slave to books. In a sense, books are components of my personality. In different phases of my life, while working on different subjects, I have always accumulated certain books. I cannot do without the feeling of having a library around me. I need to be surrounded by the potential to return to those parts of myself, and for that the books should be readily available.

Brigit: I also cannot imagine not having a bookshelf. I once had to help someone move who owned several thousand vinyl records, and in my opinion that is even worse than moving books. My bookshelf is next to my bed and is a kind of sacred place. It reflects what I have done, what kind of person I am and what subjects or thoughts surround me. Gifted books also have a special place: they are objects that other people have brought me as reflections of who I am.

How do you take notes? I make a great many notes in books, and I often buy books precisely so that those notes will remain with me. Another option is to copy the notes into a separate notebook, but that also means a great deal of work. How do you make sure that the parts of what you have read that you want to carry with you do not simply disappear?

Hildegard: Unfortunately, a great deal disappears. But once I borrowed Hamlet from a library, and it was clear that the book had passed through the hands of hundreds of students. There were notes, notes about the notes and so on — genuine layers of different periods. I think that is very, very beautiful. I also really like other people’s notes.

Brigit: When reading theory, I often fill the book with notes. With fiction, I tend to write the most important quotations in a notebook instead. Although my notes are actually scattered around: some are in a notebook, some in my phone and computer, and some on Post-it notes between the pages of books. Some books, such as those designed by Brit Pavelson, are so beautiful that I would not want to write in them at all. They are objects of beauty in their own right.

Maria: I also have very different ways of reading. If I have to address a subject for a job or a project, I take the role of a co-author or dialogue partner, and making notes is essentially unavoidable. It is very satisfying when those materials exist in physical form.

My other way of reading, just for the sake of reading, is very slow, and then I usually do not take notes. It is more like a social activity with myself. Recently, I have also experienced the charms of reading aloud, both as a reader and as a listener. Books were originally intended to be read aloud; words were meant to be spoken. It is nice to return to that.

The conversation then returned to books themselves and the exhibition “Figurative Curves: 70 Years of the Book Design Competition”.