Outreach with Special Collections and Archives – combatting loneliness and isolation

On Saturday 25th November we had the fantastic opportunity to participate in another book-making workshop led by Dr Stella Bolaki at Discovery Planet, Ramsgate, and share our collections with the local community and reach audiences we wouldn’t usually reach, notably children. The day became a creative celebration of individuality as well as bringing people together, and we were able to showcase collections which spoke to these themes – read on for more details!

With the arrival of pantomime season, this was prime time to explore the story of Cinderella, the classic rags to riches fairytale, in which the heroine moves from a state of loneliness to a sphere of belonging, by virtue of her individuality. Poor Cinders, she is maligned and mistreated by her family, and is made to work like a servant. However, her isolation is also what sets her apart, for she is the only one whom the glass slipper fits, and she consequently becomes the one and only girl with whom the Prince falls in love. Perrault’s classic 17th-century tale has notable predecessors and has itself been adapted over and over across forms as diverse as ballet and animation. We are lucky in our David Drummond Pantomime Collection to hold a variety of story-book versions as well as programmes and theatre paraphernalia relating to Cinderella. I find it fascinating to trace the aesthetic development of theatre programmes through history, from the single folded sheet war-time programmes that insist the show will go on even during air raids to the activity-filled bumper programmes of the 1990s aimed to keep children entertained with wordsearches, quizzes and spot-the-difference puzzles. The undisputed star however, was Roland Pym’s illustrated peepshow book of Cinderella, a beautiful feat of paper engineering that relates the story theatrically via a series of popup scenes that the reader peeps into.

Picture of the front cover of Roland Pym's Cinderella, depicting the heroine in rags holding a broom.

Roland Pym, Cinderella. David Drummond Pantomime Collection.

Picture of Roland Pym's Cinderella, a peepshow book open to display the finale scene where Cinderella reclaims her glass slipper.

Roland Pym, Cinderella. David Drummond Pantomime Collection

Another inspirational figure in our collections is undoubtedly Josie Long, who started performing stand up comedy at the age of sixteen and owned her own comedy club in Camden called ‘The Lost Treasures of the Black Heart’. Josie incorporated a lot of audience participation in her stand-up, which has resulted in an eclectic collection including t-shirts, teddy bears, and even a shrivelled orange! On one occasion she asked her audience to envisage themselves as super heroes, draw an accompanying portrait and list their special traits and catch phrases, rather in the manner of a Top Trumps card. This was a great way to celebrate individuality within a collective environment. Another way Josie did this was by gathering audience submissions on the theme ‘favourite small thing’ and subsequently binding these unique – sometimes peculiar – thoughts into a zine of multiple voices.

Picture of an audience character drawing named mosquito-to, featuring a drawing and listing characteristics of strength, intelligence, charisma, speed, special move, and catchphrase.

Anon, Audience character drawing. British Stand-Up Comedy Archive – Josie Long Collection.

Image of the front cover of Josie Long's zine called favourite small things, featuring a photograph of a cat.

Josie Long, Favourite Small Things zine. British Stand-Up Comedy Archive – Josie Long Collection.

Similarly to Josie Long, Special Collections and Archives ran a collective project in 2018 with artist Dawn Cole, inviting individual submissions to participate in an act of national remembrance, on the occasion of the centenary celebrations of the Armistice. The submissions consisted of personal diaries about the individual’s day on 11 November 2018, many incorporating photographs, illustrations, collage and poetry. What I consider particularly special about the collection that ensued, is the capturing of children’s voices.

Picture of the front cover of Kaya Clark's diary, featuring her drawing of a cross with poppies, and titled we will remember them.

Kaya Clark, We will remember them. Diaries of the Here and Now.

Picture of Ben Thurston's untitled diary, open at a page which features a drawing of a clock showing the time of 11am, with a descriptive sentence stating 'we did the two minute silence. It made me feel sad.'

Ben Thurston, Untitled. Diaries of the Here and Now.

Having catalogued our Children’s Literature Collection this year, I have been fascinated by the way in which they differ from other books in terms of their intended audience. Whilst reading is usually an isolated activity, children’s books in particular seem intended to be read together. This is often how children first encounter stories (by having them read aloud) and how they learn to read (by reciting from the page to an adult). Illustrated books help children to follow a story before they can read and some books insert images or symbols into the text to act as prompts, for instance, our hieroglyphic Bibles. These examples date to 1786 and 1866 respectively, but remain almost identical in format, with an abridged text at the bottom of each page in order to supplement the hieroglyphic versions intended to support literacy and, obviously, spiritual development in the committing of key Biblical verses to memory.

Image of a hieroglyphic Bible, open at the start of Genesis, featuring symbols inserted into the text.

Hieroglyphic Bible, 1786. Children’s Literature Collection.

 

Image of a hieroglyphic Bible, open at the start of Genesis, featuring symbols inserted into the text.

Hieroglyphic Bible, 1866. Children’s Literature Collection.

Alphabet books also connect letters and sounds with pictures, and we are lucky to hold a variety of facsimile versions in Special Collections and Archives that also show the innovative forms books can take, from teeny-tiny treasures that fit in your palm to concertina books that fold out dramatically. These examples show the vastly different aesthetic styles that bookend the nineteenth century, from satirical caricaturist George Cruikshank to sentimental children’s book illustrator Kate Greenaway.

Image of the front cover of Kate Greenaway's alphabet, showing an illustration of a mother and child engaged in reading together. The book sits in the palm of a hand and measures 7cm.

Kate Greenaway’s Alphabet. Children’s Literature Collection.

Image of A comic alphabet, which is a concertina book, extended.

George Cruikshank, A comic alphabet. British Cartoon Archive Library.

Of course the most innovative books that we hold are from our Prescriptions Artist Books Collection, which toy with the nature of what a book can be and how it can be read. From texts composed of textiles to scrolls wrapped around syringes, from manipulated books to feats of origametry, this collection forms artistic responses to physical and mental illness, and many deal with the emotion of loneliness and experience of isolation. Two particularly moving examples are Sally Chinea’s What do I do now you’r gone and Karen Apps’ Losing Touch, that speak respectively of grief and abandonment. Sally Chinea’s work of delicate voile cubes that piece together a portrait tells the story of a very personal friendship and constitutes a tribute to Cindy March who died of breast cancer in 2015. Karen Apps’ work is inspired by the Foundling Museum and documents the separation of mother and child, using a carved piece of soap as a metaphor for the erosion of that maternal bond. It also, like the story of Cinderella, celebrates the story of the orphan, and inspires us to consider how our individuality can become our strength.

Image of voile cubes within a cylindrical box, which forms Sally Chinea's artist book, and shows a partial portrait of Cindy March

Sally Chinea, What do I do now you’r gone. Prescriptions Artist Books Collection

picture of Karen Apps' Losing Touch, which takes the form of a concertina book inserted into a box alongside a pair of white gloves and a partially eroded sculpted soap bar.

Karen Apps, Losing Touch. Prescriptions Artist Books Collection

Participants of the workshop were inspired by the collections to create their own books using a variety of techniques, from folding to stitching, and were brought together by crafting. They had the opportunity to create stories envisioning themselves as heroes, and many used the workshop to create a book as a gift for someone else. It is through these acts of self-empowerment and generosity that the workshop thus fulfilled its objective, and combatted isolation and loneliness in a genuine and hands on way.

Dan Thompson – zines and artist books collection

We’ve recently been very lucky to receive a fantastic collection of almost 300 zines and artist books from artist, maker and collector, Dan Thompson.

Dan lives in Ramsgate and runs a studio out of Marine Studios in Margate. He works nationwide on projects centred around people and places. Below is his story about this fantastic collection. You can browse the collection here: https://archive.kent.ac.uk

A photograph of 8 publications, their covers facing the viewer.

A selection of Dan’s publications in the collection, 997-2022 (DTC/ART/01)

“I’m a collector. I have collected since I was a child (my mum is a collector, too, with a love of the 1920s and 1930s – my dad had collections of stamps and of cigarette cards – and my uncle was an antique dealer). I have collections connected to the First and Second World Wars, to the printing industry, of studio pottery, of 7” soul singles.

But sometimes, collections creep up on you.

A photograph of 3 issues of Gay Christian zine, each photocopied on to pink paper.

Gay Christian zine, 1983-1984, found by Dan Thompson discarded at the British Juggling Convention, Ramsgate in 2022 (DTC/ZIN/02)

Back in the 1990s, I worked with a number of bands – and knew many more – who were on the fringes of Britpop.

Britpop retrospectives always feature two iconic magazine covers, Select with an image of Brett Anderson from Suede and Vanity Fair with a photo of Liam Gallagher and Patsy Kensit under a Union Jack duvet.

But the bands that originally made up the scene were better represented in Fantasy Y Fronts, a thick photocopied zine made by two fans, Mel and Sal. (There were lots of zines around back then, and the best ones were made by women.) Who remembers S*M*A*S*H, These Animal Men, Tiny Monroe, Thurman, Compulsion, Mantaray and co? I do, and they’re all in here.

I used to correspond with Fantasy Y Fronts, in the days when you had to write and post a letter. Finding the best bands, and being part of the scene, took time and commitment.

I kept a couple of copies of Fantasy Y Fronts as a souvenir of that time (I wish I’d kept the correspondence, too), and they’re the foundation this collection is built on.

Photographs of the covers of two issues of Fantasy Y-Fronts zine, balck and white photocopies with images of bands alongside text and logos.

Two copies of Fantasy Y-Fronts in the collection, 1994 (DTC/MUS/02)

 

Added to them are thirty years of things I never consciously collected.

It includes more music zines, including a small collection given to me a few years ago by the manager of Welsh band 60 Ft Dolls. There are political zines and pamphlets, including copies of Occupied Times from the Occupy movement that echo 1960s publications like International Times.

There are things made by artists I’ve known and worked with, like Charles Tolfree and Alice Angus. I’ve curated exhibitions and programmed events across England, so these come in geographical clusters: Brighton and Worthing, where I lived, then Margate, and Stoke-on-Trent where I have worked since 2014.

A photograph of 7 issues of Happy Hood zine, their covers facing the viewer.

Happy Hood zine by Laura Graham and Paige Taylor, 2017-2018 (DTC/PLA/04/01)

There are publications like Happy Hood, halfway between a zine and a local magazine, produced by my friend Laura Graham in Northampton.

There are all sorts of things, from all sorts of places, in all sorts of formats. There’s poetry and photography, and creative writing and cartoons.

A photograph of the cover of GirlFrenzy zinie, blue cover with a drawn image of a woman playing a guitar

GirlFrenzy zine, 1998 (DTC/MUS/11)

It’s a mismatched collection because I never set out to collect zines. These are souvenirs of projects, reminders of places I’ve been, gifts or exchanges with people I know – a collection of moments in time. They all originally belonged to other loose collections but a few years ago, I realised that if I took those collections apart (Britpop, or Things About London, or …) the constituent parts made a new collection, of what could be loosely termed artist’s books, zines, and small press publications.

 

 

A photograph of the cover of a zine, featuring a portrait of an older man.

Cummerbundery (Vol 1): The collected tweets of Brandon Cummerbund, 2010 (DTC/ART/08/06)

 

As an artist, I like this reshuffling of knowledge, this reframing of things in different ways. And that’s why I am pleased to be handing the collection, well over a hundred assorted items, to the University of Kent’s Special Collections, where it will be a cornerstone of their growing collection of zines and artist’s books. Because it’s a pack of cards that can be shuffled many ways, and I look forward to seeing who shuffles it and what they turn up.”

 

The art of books continued…

When I was little, the favourite present I ever received, was a pretty pink diary, complete with lock and miniature key. Since this key doubled as a pendant one can easily see how such a gift appealed to my vanity. Nowadays, all my secret thoughts are worn on my sleeve; my diary just a scrapbook of places I’ve been. But the point of my rhyme is the lesson this taught me: that books are revered, treasured, and possessed materially.

It is undoubtedly a privilege to conduct outreach with Special Collections, and of course this requires transportation of items and their weight alone makes one appreciate the physicality of the book anew. Thus, when we showcase our Pre-1700 folios, we draw attention to the scale of the book as a status symbol as well as an indicator of early modern print technologies. Of course, the miniature book can be as fascinating as the grandest of tomes, as – for instance – our much-loved tiny rhyming bible, Verbum sempiternum, abridged in couplets by the Water Poet, John Taylor. Whilst we can’t possibly know for certain, I like to conjecture how this well-thumbed book could have been intended for daily meditative use, to be carried on one’s person at all times. Certainly, the biblical text is followed by prayers for morning and evening as if to suggest the applicability of reading it over the course of one day.

Image of Verbum sempiternum, open at page from Exodus, reading 'Grasshoppers, darkness, death of first-born men: these were th'Egyptian plagues, in number ten.'

John Taylor, Verbum sempiternum [1693]

Religious texts dominate the landscape of early modern print, but our collections also reveal how these texts have been subjects for decorative book-making and manipulation well into the present day. As I mentioned in my previous post, we took Sophie Adams’ Book of common prayer (2016) with us to the Art of Books workshops in Ramsgate, into which she has folded the word ‘Prozac’. What I missed saying was that we also took two further examples of religious texts that epitomise the idea that a book is also a treasury. This edition of Wesley’s hymns still has its original early-nineteenth-century clasped binding, which (however) is so tight it’s warped the book’s covers. And this Victorian book, Parables of our Lord, is a replica of medieval manuscript with a beautiful papier-maché cover that resembles Italian church doors as if to invite the reader to open the book as a means of unlocking sacred knowledge.

image of Wesley's hymns, showing clasped binding.

John Wesley. A collection of hymns, for the use of the people called Methodists (1809)

image of Parables of our Lord, showing pages that imitate medieval manuscript and the parable of the sower.

Parables of our Lord (1847)

Other artist books we showcased deliberately conflate text and textile, notably Alison Stewart’s Fabricback novel (2010) in which each page has been uniquely crafted out of textiles to both reveal and remove the communication barrier text presents to the dyslexic individual. And if textiles can be read as texts, so too can texts feature textiles in their composition. The earliest paper in books was made of linen rag. And consider this example from our Osborne facsimiles collection: The dog’s dinner party, the cover of which truthfully announces how versions ‘mounted on cloth’ were available at a steeper price so as to resist tearing in the uncoordinated clumsy hands of small children. Such untearable editions were widely available from the 1850s, and stemmed from a growing market for picture and toy books at the time.

Image of Fabricback novel, each page uniquely made using different textile techniques.

Alison Stewart, Fabricback novel (2010)

Image of the front cover of The dog's dinner party.

Harrison Weir, The dog’s dinner party (1981, facsimile)

Since the objective of our workshop was to encourage children (and adults) to have a go at making books for themselves, we also showcased a variety of Special Collections items featuring multi-media or otherwise diverting forms. Ryanairpithiplanium, for instance, is a small press poem that has been deliberately, subversively, produced in the form of a paper aeroplane. And Welcome to heck is an anonymously, multi-authored scrapbook diarising events on Remembrance Day, 2018, to celebrate the Armistice Centenary. Both examples, one professional and the other amateur, play with notions of what a book is and – I hope – encourage you to play at making books too! Check out these ideas by artist Tina Lyon for some simple instructions on paper-folding and book-binding and show us what you create!

Image of Ryanairpithiplanium, single sheet poem folded into a paper aeroplane.

Jeff Hilson and Tim Atkins, Ryanairpithiplanium (2014)

Image of example pages from Welcome to heck, with leaf and other sensory pieces pasted in.

Anon. Welcome to heck (2018)

The art of books

Display of artist books and other materials from Special Collections and Archives.

The art of the book (diverse examples from Special Collections and Archives).

For the book lover, the book is often comfort, adventure, escape, and home-coming all at once. There can be nothing as delicious as settling into a cosy armchair with a steaming mug of tea and lifting the book into one’s lap, opening the cover and absorbing oneself and one’s senses in turning, gazing, reading the pages and the words thereon. We would all likely recognise a book, we have grown up browsing the shelves in libraries and book shops, judging covers, considering blurbs, selecting the next read to suit our interests. Typically, we recognise a book as being a text-block of multiple pages, bound together, and protected by covers and sometimes dust-jackets. We know books can come in a variety of different shapes and sizes, and have different features such as illustrations, pull-outs, glossaries, or perhaps ribbons to serve as bookmarks. But it’s not often we realise the art of the book, the book as a work of art. Last week we visited Discovery Planet, Ramsgate, with Stella Bolaki from the School of English and Tina Lyons, a book artist, to explore this with our Prescriptions: Artist Books Collection and complementary items from the rest of Special Collections & Archives.

Image of The book of common prayer, the text-block folded to reveal the word 'Prozac'.

Sophia Adams, The book of common prayer (2016)

Image of Home, showing loose leaves of book in a random arrangement, revealing words 'me', 'go', home', 'you'.

Gemma Lacey, Home (2012)

Over the course of two workshops with a local Home Education Group and year 9s from The Royal Harbour Academy, as well as a free drop-in day for the public, we both engaged children and young people with questions of what makes a book, and helped them make one for themselves. It is always gratifying to find collections come to life in new conversations, and I was astounded by the intelligence and creativity with which these groups approached book forms never seen before. Sophie Adams’ Book of common prayer prompted conversations about the origins of print and the prevalence of religious literature during those early years when the technology was in its infancy, from the Gutenberg to the King James’ Bible. Besides that, it also showed how texts could be repurposed to have alternative meanings and highlighted how simple folds could change a book into something more sculptural and three-dimensional. Gemma Lacey’s Home fascinated people with its loose leaf format, for what happens to narrative linearity when a book is unbound?

Page from Arabesque 3, showing abstract shapes on fine tissue paper.

Randi Annie Strand, Arabesque 3 (2014)

One highlight for me was simply having time to sit with and interpret two of my favourites from the collection for myself: Randi Annie Strand’s Arabesque 3 and Martha Hall’s Tattoo. Having recently visited an exhibition of Arabic and Islamic art in the Re-Orientations exhibition at the Kunsthaus Zürich, Switzerland, I was immediately drawn to Strand’s geometric patterns that alternate as one turns the fine tissue pages of Arabesque 3, and the encounter offers a tangible metaphor of how one would treat a patient: with care, patience, delicacy. Martha Hall’s concertina Tattoo features inserted stitched booklets that narrate the artist’s own revised perceptions of tattoos, from something signally naval occupation or corroborating stereotypes of hyper-masculinity to something that is necessitated by certain medical treatments, such as radiation for cancer, and even evocative of inner female strength, as sported by women over mastectomies.

Image showing the concertina length of Tattoo, with needle inserted into front cover.

Martha Hall, Tattoo (2001)

Having introduced Special Collections & Archives, and welcomed groups to encounter these artist books for themselves, the workshops turned to making books: encouraging our young people to reflect both on the collections and their own stories and emotions as they folded, cut out, manipulated paper to craft books for themselves. On the Friday we were lucky to have book artist, Tina Lyons, with us, and she took us step-by-step through making a T-fold booklet as well as extended concertinas. (Check out her videos to have a go yourself!) On Saturday, Stella Bolaki led the groups and it was astonishing to see the diversity of approaches and creations that stemmed from her instructions. I have to give a special commendation to Leo and Libby for their mutual dedication and inspiration. Leo’s Art is an expression for his dad (just in time for Father’s Day) featured multiple sensory pages to signify, for instance, the satisfaction and confusion art can evoke. Libby was inspired by the form of Allison Cooke Brown’s Core sample, and – prompted by conversations regarding the status of the book as something special, even a gift – made a beautiful slip-case for her concertina book. We also had a variety of big books, little books, pop-up books, stitched books, handbag books, every book you could imagine. To close, I can only showcase a sample of what was made – enjoy!

A hand-made book with be-ribboned slip-case decorated with roses.

A hand-made book with slip-case.

A hand-made pop-up book, showing a character in a landscape, with a decorative frame.

A hand-made pop-up book.

A hand-made concertina book, with varied sensory pages.

A hand-made concertina sensory book.

A hand-made concertina book revealing a story of a surprise birthday party and the arrival of different guests.

A hand-made concertina picture-book.

A hand-made T-cut book, with lots of different images pasted inside in scrapbook fashion.

A hand-made T-cut book, titled ‘Art is an expression’.