Liverpool's was an artists' book fair of two halves, I think you could say. Friday, judging by what visitors said and the way many of them looked, it rained all day. People did come, but they were reasonably sparse - very reasonably, I'd suggest; I wouldn't want to trek through ceaseless wet even for a book fair, and especially not if I knew there was a second day, when the sun might play nice.
And on Saturday, hey presto! The sun shone all day long and a lot more people turned up. It was, of course, also the weekend by that time. We had plenty of youngsters around too, making an absolute and obviously very satisfying racket merely by running down and up the generously built-in ramp that gently descends around the edge of the circular room - well, we had moved in on their dedicated library space, so it seemed fair enough.
And on Saturday, hey presto! The sun shone all day long and a lot more people turned up. It was, of course, also the weekend by that time. We had plenty of youngsters around too, making an absolute and obviously very satisfying racket merely by running down and up the generously built-in ramp that gently descends around the edge of the circular room - well, we had moved in on their dedicated library space, so it seemed fair enough.
Half the fair. A quiet spell, even for Friday, which was why I had the opportunity to take photos
Liverpool Central Library has been extensively renovated/made-over in the past few years, only reopening just over a year ago (I never even thought of visiting as I passed through Liverpool on my way to work in Bootle many many moons ago - probably wasn't even aware that there was a library amongst that substantial row of buildings near the station). I mentioned we were in the children's library, Discover - it's hard to imagine how it's set out when not full of upstart tables, but it looks a lovely roomy area. On the Friday I arrived hot and bothered (from hurrying so as not to get too damp from the just-practising rain) and damp anyway. I'd got there, and all I wanted was to go sit down at our table and set up. I didn't shift from the room until I went home (the long way - don't ask - not for the first time - don't ask about that either).
So on Saturday, when Gemma and I entered the library relaxed and without baggage (all there already) and on a gloriously sunny morning, I looked up and was amazed to see a wonderful modern central area, open above me, with crisscrossing stairways, all the way up to the... dome? It's sort of distorted - a little disorientating but very beautiful. Later on in the day I went up to the Picton Reading Room. Just stunning - massive, round, traditional, lovely book layers and ironwork and spiral staircases and (I think) another dome. I was in love. I wanted it for my own, though I do think it might squash my whole road under its generous footprint. I've seen so many beautiful library spaces recently, I'm beginning to understand why the Library of Lost Books set up a Pinterest site of Beautiful Libraries. I was on my way to see the exhibition of artists' books in the Hornby Library, also rather nice, off the Reading Room. Like an idiot, I deliberately left my camera at home on the Saturday - surely there just weren't any more photos to take! - and accidentally left my phone behind as well (along with other things I meant to take - oh what it is to be such an organised individual) or I'd have lots of "Look at this! and this! and this!" photos to share. But the Biennial is now on, so I'll be going back (no really, I will) and can take in the library on my trip. Alas it won't include the artists' book exhibition, which ended Sunday. Many of the exhibitors were also at the fair, along with other examples of their exhibits, but Theresa Easton wasn't. I'd have loved a closer look at her subtly multi-shaded Two Thousand Insects, housed in an old letterpress drawer, but she's very kindly allowed me to use one of the photos from her own blog here.
The fair was, of course, full of lots of lovely book people and lots of lovely books. I had to fight quite hard with myself not to go round acquiring completely unjustifiable gorgeous-little-things at every stand (and no, I wouldn't be buying them to give away as presents, they would be ALL FOR ME). Picking out just a very few examples, there were wonderful leather-bound volumes and books full of exquisite drawings of beetles, bees, butterflies, intricate woven book sculptures made from twitter messages and, which really took my fancy, a book created around the shipping forecast. In the end I was pretty restrained and just indulged in these -
a book which is purely colour, eco-dyed with onion skins, from Pauline Lamont-Fisher (she makes many beautiful books) and an outsize woodcut ampersand from Andrew Morrison of Two Wood Press (lovely man, he says he'll try to identify the random fonts in my new wooden type Pi book, though I shan't hold him to it). Another one of his posters was in a crazed German font saying (in German, natch) You can kiss my arse - apparently the comment of a soldier in 1918 when asked if he'd like to stay on in the army. Should have got that too. But what I might do is ask him to bring one for me when he comes to Manchester in October.
Because YES! the Manchester Artists' Book Fair is on again, 17th and 18th October. Bookings for tables are coming in steadily (this is the 'paperwork' end of proceedings) and I'm slowly gearing up to the flurry of activity that precedes the event, then worrying over and enjoying the two days that are the point of it all, before slumping back with a sigh of relief and a pinch of regret that it's all over for another year. Still, long way to go till I get that far.
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