What Book Collectors Can Learn from Art Collectors
An observation from the Venice Biennale
The rare book world has something of an inferiority complex. Both collectors and dealers often worry aloud about the future of book collecting and they (we!) wonder why more people don’t share our passion for the printed word.
It struck me this week that art collectors and art dealers exist in an even smaller subculture than book people. I also realized that the art world doesn’t seem to worry much about that. I wonder if we book people need to lighten up a little?
This week, I am lucky enough to be at the 60th edition of the Venice Biennale, one of the most prestigious and influential art events. In addition to two large official exhibition halls, there are also pavilions sponsored by individual countries as well as collateral events hosted by art galleries and organizations. Art exhibits are everywhere in Venice. Many of these collateral events are free and are staged inside of abandoned churches and renovated palazzos.1
Venice is packed. It’s hard to imagine what it is like in high season because even now, in late September, many of the city’s narrow streets and its vaporetto canal buses are crowded to the point of claustrophobia.
As far are I can tell, most of the tourists have no idea that the Biennale is happening right in their midst.
My wife and I have wandered into most of the collateral events we’ve stumbled upon. In addition to a lot of inscrutable and perplexing artwork, we’ve seen some fascinating churches and magnificent palazzos. Often, we have been the only visitors inside the exhibits while hordes of tourists walk past outside.
For example, the videos of Yuan Goang-Ming in the Taiwanese pavilion, which took over a palazzo overlooking the Giudecca lagoon, played to completely empty rooms at times.
We also had the amazing Ethiopian exhibit, featuring paintings by Tesfaye Urgessa, to ourselves. Amy and I were also alone with Jaume Plensa’s sculptures in an abandoned church. You get the idea.
Here’s what I realized. Book people would tend to look at the disinterested, incurious masses and wring their hands at the decline in cultural literacy or some such complaint. The art world, however, doesn’t care about the people who don’t walk in. After all, they have been sponsoring art shows every two years in Venice since 1895 (with a few breaks for the periodic European wars).
In response to my previous essay about collecting highspots for investment, one dealer commented privately to me about the price differences between books and art. “Under $100k to $200k,” the dealer wrote, “contemporary pictures are really wallpaper for schmucks.” Art dealers and collectors don’t care about the masses. They don’t care about me or my wife stopping to visit empty palazzos. They don’t worry about the people who aren’t interested or even most of the people who are. The art world only cares about the tiny handful of people who actually buy art.
I think there’s a lesson for the book world in that: Don’t focus on who isn’t interested, find the people who actually care, and let the masses walk on by.
I’m not proposing that the book world should become the exclusive haven of millionaires and billionaires, which are the focus of most of the art world. Books have always been more universal and approachable and affordable than that. You can build an impressive collection in many subjects for less than the $100,000 needed for a middling painting. And while we still have a long way to go, the book world has always found more room for women writers (e.g., Jane Austen, Mary Shelley, Virginia Woolf, Toni Morrison) and people of color (e.g., Phyllis Wheatley, Frederick Douglass, Richard Wright) than the art world did until very recently.
What I am suggesting is that perhaps we should have a book collecting culture that is more confident in the hobby as a worthy intellectual project, one that plays a key role in the preservation of the written word and much of culture and history. After all, most special collections libraries are filled with books that once belonged to book collectors. Until the library acquired them, we—meaning all of humanity—relied on book collectors to curate and archive books and ephemera until a librarian decided that the material was important enough for professional preservation.
That’s an serious job, and if most people have no interest, if they’d walk past a free antiquarian bookfair, like I watched them do in Barcelona when I was in that city last week, what’s the big deal? It just means more books for the rest of us.
Since I am in Europe, Downtown Brown Books doesn’t have any new arrivals to accompany this newsletter. In fact, ordering on my website is turned off. But if you want something, you can email me, and I’ll metaphorically set it aside for you until I return. My next list of books will be ready in the second half of October.
Or is it palazzi? I’m going with palazzos, even if it might offend the sensibilities of some Italian speakers.
I think you've made yr point and then ignored it: money. If you're an art dealer trying to sell a $5M painting you know most if not all the potential buyers. There are far more buyers for a $15,000 book, though it's a stopper for many others. Now I'm going to say something that will sound elitist; If you can't afford to shell out $5,000 for a good first in American or British poetry (not including high moderns), then you should find someone else to collect. Or find a way to skimp on other things, which calls for a very understanding partner.
Finally, I've been to all sorts of big fairs. Passersby don't have clue about the pandemonium going on behind closed doors.