At a time when Paris is overwhelmed by exciting contemporary art exhibitions (including the intriguing and fascinating, Neil Beloufa, [until May 13] at the Palais de Tokyo), and that a very promising edition of the International exhibition of rare books [from 13 to 15 April] at the Grand Palais is on the horizon, it is the appropriate time to compare two passions that, a priori, are seldom found together but for the pure enjoyment of collecting: the collector of contemporary art pieces and the bibliophile.
If we look closely, we may find many points that they have in common: an intimate knowledge of the sellers (booksellers for one, gallery owners for the other)—who they swarm and pamper, in the hope of currying favour with them for new acquisitions or newly-discovered artists. Of these two collectors, one holds an encyclopaedic knowledge of published materials, as well as the history of their successive owners (if there were any), while the other follows strictly the sales in order to not miss an acquisition that could be unique. Both regularly monitor how the work and their creators are rated.
Naturally, there are also considerable dissimilarities, which everyone knows: unlike collectors of contemporary art, bibliophiles cannot meet the authors whose works they collect, except for the few rare cases where one collects numbered editions of living authors. Similarly, collectors of contemporary art are less likely to be interested in auctions than bibliophiles. This rarely concerns art collectors. Finally, collectors of contemporary art are unlikely to have the breadth of in-depth analysis and judgment of the value of the work in question, this is often a privilege available to bibliophiles, which only time can give. Indeed, an ancient book that is well indexed and that has passed between a thousand hands has a value that no art trend could achieve.
As different as the two domains may be, a meeting point also exists. In particular, when contemporary artists illustrate books or their bindings. It is an immense field of creativity, which has been used by the greatest artists and writers since at least the nineteenth century.
This is less the case today. First, because today books are rarely and less likely to be published on quality papers, and are even less likely to have numbered copies– a factor that justifies the inclusion of an artist’s signature. Second, because contemporary artists work on many other platforms other than paper, and with the help of many other instruments than pencils or brushes.
Therefore, contemporary writers and artists seem to be moving away from each other; and bookbinders have had little success in bridging their drifting apart. Certainly, there are publishers, writers, and contemporary artists that sometimes work together.
They could do it more.
Furthermore, we could perhaps think of new ways of working together: writers are publishing books in new formats, such as on e-Readers; and artists are working on electronic art works or videos. One could imagine that they could work together in order to produce original work. Which editor will think to ask Bill Viola to illustrate a digital edition of Moby Dick or Neil Beloufa that of the Decameron? We could also, in our limitless imagination, envision contemporary artists and writers, interacting together during their creative process.
Masterpieces always emerge from the meeting of two worlds that we had not previously thought of bringing together. Here lies another opportunity.
j@attali.com