JD’A 5–I: ANAMORPHOSIS OF EVE invitation to reception – 1974

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JD'A – 5A: ANAMORPHOSIS OF EVE

Anamorphosis | of | Eve | Words composed | by F. B. Cornell. | Visualization de- | signed and pro- | duced by Joseph | D'Ambrosio, Chi- | cago, Illinois, nine- | teen seventy-four.

Page numbering for recto of leaves.

7-1/4 x 9-1/4 inches, [1]: Anamorphosis of Eve | a poem | created in serigraphy, p[2–13]: with title on [4], copyright on verso of [4], text on [4,5,9,10,11,12], [14]: red textured tissue paper, [15–17]: text on pink paper, [18–21] dark red paper with text with ovoid mark on [18–20]:, [22–27]: turquoise paper with images on [22–24], [22–23] trimmed text on [24–26], [27]: white tissue paper, [28–29]: white paper with text and circular images in gray and purple, [30–33]: lavender paper with text on [33], [34]: white paper with text, [35]: colophon.

Colophon: This is copy number

[# in pencil]

and signed by

[signature in pencil]

F. B. Cornell, author

[signature in pencil]

and Joseph J. D'Ambrosio, artist.

Binding: Japanese stab; two colors of gray felt over clear acetate tied with black thread.

first 50 copies in a plastic slipcase, each with an artist's proof numbered 1 through 10 of five different serigraphs from the book displayed within the face of the case. Copy examined: 10/10 Artist’s Proof  [signature in pencil D’Ambrosio ’74].

Note: The only illustration that is signed and numbered is the image on the inside of the plexiglass slipcase.

JD'A – 5B: ANAMORPHOSIS OF EVE

Same as JD’A – 5A but without slipcase and signed work of art.

JD'A – 5C: ANAMORPHOSIS OF EVE

Book block the same with new cover design and slipcase.

From 19 Years and Counting

1974

ANAMORPHOSIS OF EVE, A Poem Created in Serigraphy by F.B. Cornell

Edition: 200 copies

Size: 7-1/4 x 9-1/4 inches

Type: 12 pt. Americana

Leaves: 35 - consisting of various Japanese, Basingwerk, and Strathmore papers

Binding: Japanese stab; two colors of gray felt over clear acetate tied with black thread: the first 50 copies in a plastic slipcase, each with an artist's proof numbered 1 through 10 of five different serigraphs from the book displayed within the face of the case

This is the first book that 1 designed, printed, and produced, but did not write. After my experiment with Zarathustra regarding the elimination of words, I now chose to more closely integrate the graphics within the text. Since this long poem is written in unbroken sections, my design plan was to create a "resting gap" between a section with a graphic print. The print borrows design features already integrated within the preceding poetry and becomes an extension of the text. Thus the graphics carry the reader from section to section without relying on the words to do so. This allows the reader an opportunity to digest the material before going on to the next section. I also relied on the color and texture of the Japanese papers to supplement my plan where too many graphics would intrude upon the author's poetry.

"Eve," a serigraph from the book (see page 34), was so positively received I issued a larger version of it. The edition is 50 copies (size: 20x26 inches), and is printed on Basingwerk paper. I immediately followed "Eve" with a companion serigraph not from the book, "The Creation of Adam," in an edition of 20 copies (size: 22 × 27 inches), and printed on Rives BFK paper.

[image]

Letterpress and block print invitation to the reception for Anamorphosis of Eve.

Up to this point in my chosen field, art dealers were telling me they did not want to sell books, and book dealers echoed that they did not want to sell art. By some force unknown to me; I stumbled upon a shop tucked away on the southern rim of the Chicago loop dubiously named, JES Graphics. It was not an art gallery, but in fact a book store. Now began my long association with the manager, Thomas. Joyce, and the first reception for the publication of one of my books, Anamorphosis of Eve, at J&S on September 15, 1974.

1974-75

My jubilance was tempered because I knew from printing Anamorphosis of Eve, the Adana no longer functioned properly, and this was likely my last production. 

A few months after the reception, the telephone rang and a voice said, "l understand your press won't print anymore. Would you like to do something with me?" To this day, 1 do not know how Elmore Mundell (1 respectfully addressed him as "Mister" Mundell), the Compulsive Printer of Portage, Indiana, came to know of my dilemma, but it is not surprising as Mr. Mundell kept abreast of matters through numerous phone calls across the country. I declined his offer stating that likely I would not produce anymore books, but if something arose I would contact him. Shortly afterward, Tom Joyce made me aware of a book titled, "Two Tales of Shem and Shaun - A Work in Progress, by James Joyce, and suggested I consider producing one of the two tales from it. I immediately telephoned Mr. Mundell.

From A Memoir of Book Design:

This is the first book that I designed, printed, and produced, but did not write. After my experiment with Zarathustra regarding the elimination of words, I now chose to integrate the graphics more closely within the text. If I could not eliminate the words, at least I could strike an accept able balance between them and the graphics. As a musical number within a musical drama entertains while still advancing the story, wanted to capture the same essence, but on paper instead of live on a stage. Since this long poem is written in unbroken sections, my design plan was to create a "resting gap" with one or more graphic prints between each section. Each print borrows design features already integrated and acting as a background within the preceding poetry and becomes an extension of the text. The graphics carry the reader from section to section without relying on the words to do so. This allows the reader to digest the material before going on to the next section. I also relied on the color and texture of the Japanese handmade papers to supplement my plan where too many graphics would intrude upon and overpower the author's poetry.

An explanation about the binding of a book is usually separate from the interior design. But in this case the binding is as important because it begins the reader's progressive immersion into the text. Up to this point I was relatively pleased with my artwork, indifferent about the quality of my printing, but aghast at my bindings. So, when l agreed to do one of the many poems shown to me by their author, F.B. Cornell, and he stated that the cost of the binding did not matter, I suggested that we investigate a noted Chicago bindery. We did, and I was unhappily surprised at the cost of a very simple binding. I did not even ask what it would cost for something more ornate; I decided to do it myself.

The pages are separate and not folded folio-style. This precludes sewing the folded pages down the center of the fold into a gathered signature. [A signature is a group of folded single sheets of paper (folios) gathered together face-to-face and back-to-back with the folded sections coalescing together vertically in their center and creating a solid unit or a group of pages. Then, a group of signatures is sewn together to form what is known as a book block.] So I used a simple Japanese stab binding, which is a structure that allows a sewing method that compiles separate pages into a neat and cohesive assembly. And I had never even heard of a Japanese stab binding; it just seemed the logical method to use. The sewing threads not only go through and hold the pages together, but also wrap around the spine of the book. This allowed for two shades of gray felt to also wrap around the spine and be held in place nicely by the sewing threads. The cover surface of the felt cloth adheres to heavyweight clear acetate. This creates a gray draped-curtain effect, and the arc of the felt reveals the printed title on the first page of the book beneath the clear acetate. A dark square box can be dimly seen directly behind the title through the cream-colored semi-opaque Japanese handmade paper. (Lucky for me that at this time, Mrs. Aiko maintained a shop in Chicago on Clark street, almost directly under the elevated train tracks, and went to Japan every year to bring back the finest papers.) When the first page is turned, the graphics in series concept honed in Krome is used, and obscure shapes commingle. With the turning of the pages, they come together to form a new full-page title in cursive shapes with the head of a penis at the top of the snakelike capital "A" of Anamorphosis. The square box beyond the printed title of the first page turns into the credits for the author and the designer. This is followed by the title once again, only this time it is superimposed over the dictionary definitions of "Anamorphosis" and "Eve." Beneath, through the semi-opaque paper, can be seen the energy waves radiating in the next series of graphics. This feature of hinting at what will ensue would normally be annoying, which is why most book papers are chosen to be opaque enough to preclude the shadow of what is on the other side of the page. In this case it provides the necessary bridge for the reader/viewer to continue the thought process uninterrupted and also serves as a lure to venture forward into the text because there is indeed something there to be seen as well as read.

The following series of graphics is a hint as to what to expect from the poetry within. It is about a once beautiful, wealthy woman who during her lifetime could buy, and get, anything she wanted because of her high position and finances; but now in old age, she is an abandoned old crone who can only command those she knows are after her fortune-she is left unloved and bitter as she nears death. And the poetry continues to relentlessly evince that she knows how she ruthlessly made her way to this point, doesn't like it, but would not change if she had it to do all over again. The series begins with the full-breasted naked body of a young woman, and slowly degenerates into the image of a flat-breasted old lady. The energy waves swirling about her body press and tug and work their deterioration about the flesh. Extenders (the intended dilution of ink to obtain a more translucent color were employed in the colors to make the energy radiations blend wherever they cross another color and are consequently darker. Hence a stronger force is indicated against that part of the body. 

[image from book]. Young Woman, Older Woman. On the next page after the series of three graphic prints, the ageing woman is gone but the energy waves remain in place, and the poetry begins within them.[image from book], [image from book], As the reader/viewer turns the pages the energy waves surrounding and intruding upon the poetry start to change color...[image from book], [image from book], [image from book], ...until they become the basis for the final graphic print in the series which is that of "Eve," or the embodiment of women through all time. [image from book]. Another version of this graphic print exists in a much larger format in an edition of 50 copies.

After this graphic, when the page is turned, the reader/viewer is presented with a blank piece of exotic paper that has raw pulp inclusions within it. The paper is the same dark salmon color as the energy waves on the preceding print, but has no printing or image on it. The tacit communication to the reader is that a change is occurring-be prepared. When the page is turned the poetry is printed on mauve-colored paper. This continues with no energy-wave interruptions for the next few pages, after which a new, deeper plum-brown color surprises, jumps at, and assails the reader's senses.

The only thing on the page besides the poetry is a somewhat annoying abstract form of indeterminate origin. Within the next few pages of poetry printed on paper of this same color, the obscure shape slowly grows larger, and then suddenly disappears, only to be reborn as a woman's eye in the next series of graphics. A question at this point should be: Why distract the reader from the poetry? The answer, to be precise, may appear to be a distraction, but in essence it is an intelligent interruption in the reader's thoughts meant to motivate further investigation of the material, especially since the reader has been preconditioned to visual stimulation along with a literary description.

This next series of graphics uses less than full-size sheets of paper to allow subsequent visuals to slightly appear before they fully appear when one turns the page. Each individual graphic print provides two interpretations of the same presentation. The series illustrates the mental decadence of a female from a tender and lovely young beauty to a miserly old evil witch, which is what the poetry is all about. And it does it in such a way as to suggest that what one sees at first is not always what things eventually turn out to be. It is serigraphed in many colors on pale gray paper.

The same paper color continues with the printed poetry on it; however, the texture of the paper shifts from smooth for the graphic prints to a rougher surface for the printed poetry. It should go without saying that a tactile surface can be seen as well as felt. A sense of texture registers upon the brain but is generally only subliminally acknowledged and usually taken for granted. But it does cause the mind to stop and take notice, which is its general intention.

The next to the last section of poetry is printed on snow-white paper preceded by see through lace paper. Purple gradations in curlicue forms wrap around the words, and the very last section switches immediately to purple paper on which the purple curlicues have turned into a coiled snake with the head of a penis and a shimmering emerald at its neck. The change of curlicues into the snake image provides a needed reference point because the paper is drastically changing color as pages are turned and the mood rapidly shifts. The purple snake becomes a wizened old hag with an emerald eye in the next graphic, and that too breaks itself down in the ensuing graphic print into the very literal title of the book.

A special edition of this book was created in which each book is presented in a Plexiglas slipcase. One clear face of the slipcase exposes an extra artist's proof print from one of the major graphics included within the book. My hazy recollection informs me that a few of the Plexiglas boxes with a print exhibited and a book within were matted and framed for hanigng.

I have only recently learned of the death of the author of this book, F. B. Cornell. This is a memoir and not a catharsis, so perhaps this note of clarification is out of order. If so, I apologize. Only half of the edition of this book sold. I collated the unsold portion, stapled the pages together and boxed them. When it came time to pack everything for my move to Southern California from Chicago, my significant other, Gary Moerke, who was angry with F.B. Cornell (they had been friends before my presence on the scene stated that the unbound books were not coming with us. I could have sim ply put the box in the car be cause I was driving my car to the coast, but at that time I wanted to keep tempers subdued so l went to E.B. Cornell and told him that he should keep the unbound half of the edition. He felt that it would be best if they stayed in my care, and that was his final resolution. I care what others think of my work, but I really don't care what others think of me personally. So, to keep F.B. Cornell from knowing that his previous friend, Gary, did not want any reminder of him around (and to preserve the books), I smugly told him that if he didn't want the books, I would toss them into a garbage can. He was as furious as I expected him to be and kept the box of unbound copies. He never forgave me. And I never told him the true reason for my curt actions. He never spoke to me again or answered my letters. His estate goes to Dartmouth College, so those copies may soon appear in a book dealer's catalogue.

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