The problem of bookshelves

Over at Paper Cuts, Jennifer Schuessler has joined the inter-blog conversation about bookshelf etiquette by confessing that her collection is “heavily weighted toward the unread,” stockpiled for the coming era of the Kindle-toting zombies. I already spoke my piece, by blogging about all the books I’ve been throwing out, but for those whom the topic continues to fascinate, I recommend two books that I’ve been reading by the photographer Moyra Davey, Long Life Cool White, just published by Yale University Press, and The Problem of Reading, which you have to email Davey herself to buy a copy of (see the link for instructions). Both books are filled not only with Davey’s moody photos of bookshelves in various states of disarray and transition but also with her thoughts on the place of reading in a creative life, and the difficulty, in managing the habit, of striking the right balance between purpose and serendipity, and between work and pleasure. “‘What to read?’ is a recurring dilemma in my life,” she admits in The Problem of Reading, which has, among other images, a great close-up of her mother’s annotations of Swann’s Way. Long Life Cool White focuses more specifically on the problem of reading about photography (and writing about it). At one point in that book, Davey, like Schuessler in her anticipation of zombies, considers her bookshelves as a storehouse, similar in function to her refrigerator, only more so:

A well-stocked fridge always triggers a certain atavistic, metabolic anxiety, like that of the Neanderthal after the kill, faced with the task of needing to ingest or preserve a massive abundance of food before spoilage sets in. . . . I feel a little towards my books as I do towards the fridge, that I have to manage these as well, prioritize, determine which book is likely to give me the thing I need most at a given moment. But unlike with the fridge, I like to be surrounded by an excess of books, and to not even have a clear idea of what I own, to feel as though there’s a limitless store waiting to be tapped, and that I can be surprised by what I find.

Roots

Caleb in the O.C.

I had occasion to observe, over the weekend, that I was once blond. But I sensed that I was listened to with polite disbelief. Here, then, is some evidence. The photograph is from circa 1975, when I lived in Orange County, California, which was not then called by its initials, to my knowledge.

Illustrating the underbelly

Atlantic Center Mall bridge
A photograph I took of Bruce Ratner’s Atlantic Center Mall (not the one to the left, however) illustrates the Letters column in the fifth issue (winter 2007) of n+1, which just arrived in my mailbox yesterday.

I’m not altogether sure my photography deserves such company or such exposure, but I had a lot of fun taking the pictures. The best of the rest of that day’s shooting is viewable here. I didn’t intend the photograph to the left seriously, but as a joke on Walker Evans’s famous shot of the underside of the Brooklyn Bridge, which illustrated an early edition of Hart Crane’s The Bridge: "Under thy shadow by the piers I waited . . . ."

Ice storm

Fern

I’m in New Hampshire, where an ice storm knocked out the power the day before I arrived. The power is back, but the ice hasn’t left. It’s hard to photograph. The brightness of the ice tends to wash out the image.

If you compensate for the brightness, however, the picture looks inaccurately dim. But even if I were to adjust contrast and exposure properly, I suspect that sparkling is a stereo effect—that what makes it distinctive is that the sparkles hit each eye slightly differently, and thus no monoptic image can capture it.

Hayfield

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