THE BOOK, A DOMESTIC ANIMAL - feed it - pet it - let it in and let it out
On this occasion I took another look at my self-mades ones, to see what happens when the work is done. What`s done because the idea behind the 367 books I made in the last 23 years is simple: Do it - make it - do make, make do. Do it, don`t fuss. Whatever we get to see here, there and everywhere is subject to fuss - that`s to say selection of works, with a view to their possible excellence. It`s all artists desire to present themselves (their works ...) optimally, to present themselves as what they are or want to be - master artists. But I, with my curiosity, always and especially wanted to know this: how are masterpieces made? How many stages, how many mistakes, how many blind alleys are necessary to make this masterpieces? I distrust the myth of “creator genius”- although I don`t reject it entirely - I think I`ve got to keep working, keep looking at my work and other work, and this seems to me the most efficient way to produce vigorous works, perhaps even „masterpieces“. I have said no to selection since 1991. Just do it. Period. Yes. Do it. This is liberation, this is escape from slavery of “success, not failure”. I gave myself the freedom to do/make whatever came to mind, no matter if with enthusiasm, or out of boredorm, drunk or sober, alone or in company ... Everything I did was entitled to live. At that time (1991), friends gave me an artist`s book and I like the idea of making a book out of images. It also seemed economical and so I chose books (or books chose me). I had no idea there would be so many books. The medium turned out to be incredibly versatile and a book is a book, good to hold in your hand, even better if you made it yourself. This - an many other reasons I`m not aware of - let me feed the book animal, pet the book animal, let it out and let it in. It`s an animal because it`s unpredictable, because the forces at work are moderately domesticated. The conventional book, the classical book make space for everything that doesn`t break those boundaries.
Markus Kircher, 2014