Perish the thought

One of the simple, yet sublime, pleasures in life is to stroll past a bookcase and be rewarded with some gem long forgotten. A moment later and you are on a trip to a place unknown, basking in California’s late sun.

The thick art paper invariably used in photography books permits high quality reproduction and the tactile and olfactory pleasures, coupled with the user’s choice of sequential or random access …. well, there’s a lot to love about Gutenberg’s invention.

As machines go, the printing press has had a decently long life of 570 years and counting, though it’s a piker compared to, say, the catapult (an elegant, simple tool) or the wheel. Compare those to the lives of sound reproducing media – wax cylinders, shellac 78s, LPs, stereo LPs, Cassettes, 8 Track, CD, iPod – none has lived more than a couple of decades.

Yet while I am committed to getting clutter out of my life (my ideal being Woody Allen’s place in Sleeper), I still cannot get worked up about looking at photography books on a screen. I recognize that some media – black and white comes to mind – benefit greatly from transillumination – but the magic of a book compares favorably to the netbook warming my lap as I type this. I would have said ‘frying’ but I got rid of my MacBook in the interest of my testicles.

The transition to reading news, analysis and fiction from paper to screen is accelerating, so you can bet that we will have full color Kindles, or whatever, before long. Maybe the screen will become a flexible pellicle with pictures sent wirelessly for it to display; that might work, I suppose, but I think this is still a bit sci-fi.

Meanwhile, I am going to stroll past my bookcases.

Really, really Big.

‘Really, really Big’. Thus starts the introduction to this book of photographs by Lynn Davis, authored by Witold Rybczynski. Rybczynski’s 4 page introduction is alone worth the price of admission to this book, which features pictures of American Monuments – be they gas stations or the Lincoln Memorial – all in gently printed monochrome. The whole production reeks of class and presents the viewer with subtle images which let you do the thinking. Not that common in photo books where the images frequently scream for attention.

If your interests include architecture and fine photography then there is every reason to own this beautifully made book.

A fine collection by a master photographer.

Few artificial creations can equal the joy of a beautiful garden. And while Americans, as a whole, care little for lovely gardens – witness the bare minimum handkerchief of grass and a few tired drought resistant plants so common here – Sam Abell shows that beauty is to be found if you look, and Abell has been doing that with an expert’s eye for decades. And you don’t get published regularly in National Geographic for nothing.

I find the Japanese approach, which sees the garden as a thing of spiritual beauty, much preferable to the America minimum cost/dress-it-for-sale version. Or, for that matter, brown lawns decorated with beer cans in all those tract homes and subdivisions bought and lost by fraudsters, whom we will all be bailing out these next few years.

At last count my garden of some two acres had four lawns, three olive trees and some fifty other trees, both fruit bearing and decorative, and while I work mightily to keep it looking just so, it cannot compare to even the worst picture in this fine book.

If you like lovely gardens and landscapes beautifully rendered, with a serious hint of Eliot Porter thrown in, you will like this book. At $5.95 mine is a Depression Era special, rivaling the cost of a Big Mac and fries with none of the health implications. (Disclosure: I am long MacDonald’s stock – they may serve poisonous garbage but health and morality have nothing to do with stock selection).

Funny and in color!

So many photography books take themselves so seriously that it’s always a pleasure to come across one that is not only very funny, but is also in glorious, over-processed, high contrast color. All of which works well in this droll piece of work by Jeff Mermelstein.

Many of the candid pictures in ‘No Title Here’ are taken at places where people gather – shopping malls, beach parties, receptions – and Mermelstein’s eye is both incredibly fast and ever sardonic, with nary a hint of nastiness (the sort of thing that is constantly ‘in your face’ in the work of Robert Frank, for example).

$10 from your usual remaindered books place or even less from eBay’s Half.com – thanks to a reader for the tip. Much as I detest eBay’s questionable sales and business practices, a book is a book is a book, and a cheap book is always better.