Fig.
1As to
‘functional’ ex-libris
Report on an
AFCEL symposium,
Benoît Junod
The annual General
Assembly of the French ex-libris society AFCEL took place in
Participants
in the round table were Germaine Meyer-Noirel (Honorary President of AFCEL),
In
AFCEL, as in the Bookplate Society and some other collectors’ associations, a
majority of members have but a limited interest in contemporary “luxury”
plates, usually original etchings or engravings signed and numbered by the
artists which are but rarely – if ever – pasted into books. The source of
interest is rather the bookplate in itself as a mark identifying the owner of
books – this person’s interests and finding out who he was, why he chose
such a motif for his ex-libris. Identifying the artist is a plus, and a
substantial one if he was famous.
Mme
Meyer-Noirel, a foremost authority on the history of ex-libris and French ones
in particular (she has just published letter G of her general repertory of
French bookplates and is finishing volume I-K) made a strong case to support the
statement by Baron Jéhan in a publication of 1904, in which he wrote that “a
book without an ex-libris is like a body without a soul, a noble without a
parchment, a building without a deed of property, a shop without a sign”.
Deviations to the concept that a bookplate is exclusively made to be pasted into
books were practically unheard of until the twentieth century. In some detail,
Mme Meyer-Noirel took the example of the eighteenth century, often termed the
‘Golden Age’ of French bookplates. During that period, there were countless
abuses of correct heraldry and good heraldic style. Hundreds of examples could
be given of ex-libris bearing fanciful, self-attributed arms, often a play on
the name of the owner. But they were for real libraries, because the library –
or collection of books, as it was termed in French at the time – was
considered not only an accumulation of physical objects, but an intellectual
construction having merit in itself and reflecting the mind of its owner. He
usually wanted to perpetuate his own intellectual construction by means of his
bookplate. At the same time, if some of the creators of bookplates were virtuoso
artists, such as Boucher, Louise Le Daulceur, Moreau le Jeune or Gravelot, most
were craftsmen-engravers who faithfully placed an armorial in the stylistic
context of the time. Thus ex-libris were always made to be used – and the only
case where there is real doubt (perhaps proving the rule!) is a rare bookplate
in which the coat-of-arms has an erotic design and the fanciful name of the
owner is “La Moureux de la Borde” (Fig. 1).
Fig.
1
Although
the last presentation, the talk given by Philippe Hoch fits in better here as by
profession he is a librarian - like Mme Meyer-Noirel - and as such his point of
view was not dissimilar to hers. Mr. Hoch reminded the audience that Pierre Séjournant,
until recently Vice-President of AFCEL, differentiates four possible functions
(rather than types) of bookplates. The first is to identify the owner of a book
and ensure (hopefully) its return to the owner if lent or lost. The second is
its function as a creative discipline for artists and printmakers who receive
commissions for such works. The third is its function as an object of exchange
in the process of constituting or enlarging a collection of this category of
‘small prints’. The last function is to enable the study by librarians of
the history of the book and of libraries. Mr. Hoch examined the positive aspects
of these four functions, but reminded us that not all librarians and book
experts approve of using bookplates. Specialists in rare and precious books
consider them an inadmissible and often damaging ‘graft’ on bibliophile
treasures. However, on the whole, the possibility of tracing a line of ownership
on a rare book is more valuable to the librarian than the risk of damage. But to
that same librarian, the bookplate outside a book makes little or no sense.
Fig. 2
Claude
Muon made a short but very substantial presentation in which he stated that to
talk about a ‘functional’ ex-libris is tautology. By its very name and
definition, an ex-libris exists as a mark of ownership of books. Whether it is
used or not can be contested. The other problem raised is that by categorising
different types of bookplates, one runs the risk of creating hierarchies which
might have negative consequences. Even Braungart’s categorisation did not
really lead anywhere, and Claude Muon evoked moreover ‘competiton
bookplates’ and ‘bibliophiles’ bookplates’ – the former being made for
competitions and the latter being both pasted and exchanged. Even as simple
criteria for the classification of a collection, such concepts are quite
impractical, as was already mentioned by Urbain Wermaers in his dialogue with
Lucien Noel published in the 1928 issue (No. 220) of l’Ex-libris Français.
Muon’s conclusion is that what Braungart artificially terms ‘luxury
bookplates’ are in fact simply small-sized free graphics subjected to certain
constraints in their creation and ordered (or not) by a client from an artist.
He doesn’t praise them or condemn them, but considers them an interesting
laboratory for printmaking exercises, though certainly not ex-libris. For Claude
Muon, an ex-libris is a small print which is pasted into books and which
identifies their owner, by definition,
and if it is not pasted into books it is not a bookplate…
In
contributing to the debate, I started by noting that if such a discussion was
considered necessary within AFCEL, it is because the “Golden Age” of
artistic bookplates in Germany in the 1910 - 1920s did not occur in France, nor
in Britain. At the time, the appearance of the huge plates of Bastanier or Wilm
drew criticism and debate as to whether the object of our collection was being
perverted. Clearly size is not what excludes a print from being defined as an
ex-libris (the Cranach plate for Christof Scheurl von Degensdorf measures 232 x
144 mm, and the Dürer for Hector Pömer – Fig. 3, 298 x 198 mm), nor a lack
of inscription – at least during the long period when heraldry had an
identification function. At the other end of the scale, there are some ex-libris
which cannot function as such if they are not within a book, such as recently
devised pop-up bookplates.
Fig. 3
If
one remembers Gordon Craig’s well-known phrase of nearly a century ago, that
“a bookplate is to a book what a collar is to a dog”, even though the
obvious place for a collar is around a dog’s neck, it might also be mounted on
boards and collected. If someone were to take such a curious, unnatural step,
then perhaps to add pretty collars with a few diamond studs, rarely worn by
dogs, I would consider the latter step only mildly sinful – insofar as the
pretty collars actually could be worn by dogs if their owners wanted so to employ them.
Perhaps
another angle must also be examined. The single common characteristic of all ex-libris
collectors pivots on the definition of the object of their collection, by which
I mean that their hierarchies of value, their systems of classification, their
thematic interests and practically everything else related to their collections
are infinitely variable. But they all collect ex-libris – or else they would
join different collectors’ societies. Although I accept Claude Muon’s
reasoning that an ex-libris is by definition a small-format print made to
identify the owner of a book, and I think it is obviously much better to paste
at least part of an edition of bookplates in one’s books (just as dog collars
look better on dogs than in an exhibition case), I fall short of pushing his
argument to the end, and – after some hesitation - do not agree that if it is
not pasted in a book it is not an ex-libris. I tried to point this out by giving
him a print which I received recently from the artist Yuri Nozdrin (Fig. 4): an
ex-libris made for my then 22-month old son. The inscription reads “ex libris”,
“Nicolas Marcel Milija Junod”, “3.150” (his weight at birth), “48”
(his size at birth), “17.12.2000” and “18.55” (his date and time of
birth). It is quite large, hand-coloured and beautiful. There is absolutely no
doubt that in a book it can identify my son as its owner. Hence a question: if I
paste it into a book when I get home, does it then magically turn into an ex-libris?
Fig. 4
I
would defend the concept that an ex-libris is what its name purports it to be as
long as it was created with the intention of being placed in a book and of
identifying its owner and is materially able to do so. Returning to the example
of Robert Schuman’s plate, Haefeli made it with the intention of its being
used as a bookplate and gave it to the statesman, expecting him to use it: it is
a bookplate. If Schuman decided not to use it, it does not mean that it is not
an ex-libris. Could one say that an ex-libris made for Frenchman in 1750 who
died just before the edition arrived in the post and which was never stuck in
his books is not an ex-libris?
In
my opinion, the bottom line in defining the object of our collection is to
constantly remind artists that we are not collecting free graphics, but ex-libris,
and that if they want to see their creations admired and exchanged by bookplate
collectors they had better make sure that they correspond to the specific
criteria of this form of applied arts. Thus the definition of a bookplate as a
small-format print specifically made to be pasted into a book to identify its
owner must be repeated as often and as constantly as possible. In this way, not
only can one largely avoid the creation of pseudo-exlibris, but can actively
foster the creation of real bookplates. This mild proselytism is necessary with
regard to artists, but even more so in respect of certain collectors. Too often
one encounters in congresses persons who propose to exchange bookplates and
present you with a folder of free graphics. They should be politely asked
whether they have come to the wrong place. Not to do so is a betrayal of the
very concept of our pursuit. I have no objection to others collecting milk tops,
postage stamps, football cards or polynesian masks, but I collect ex-libris. If
I go to a FISAE congress or a national society congress, I expect to exchange
bookplates – beautiful, extravagant, splendid, ravishing ex-libris, but ex-libris…
Back
to basics: an evident step is to use in books, as widely as possible, the
bookplates one has commissioned – if we hadn’t had books, we wouldn’t have
had bookplates! One must also remember that there is no way of better conserving
a bookplate than in a book, away from light, nor a more exciting way of
discovering an ex-libris at arm’s length on opening a book. Another important
step is to promote the design of bookplates for real use by public libraries and
collections – with competitions such as for example the one recently organised
by the French Cultural Centre in Belgrade, of which the prize-winning ex-libris
was reproduced in offset and pasted into 12’000 volumes (Fig. 5).
Fig. 5
Many
collectors not especially attracted to contemporary “Luxusexlibris” feel
that the world of bookplates is being somehow appropriated by persons with
interests diametrically opposed to their own. They should stick to their guns
and their collecting interests: in the early 1930s, the craze for luxury
artists’ bookplates in Germany already began to wane, and the present wave
would not have had a chance of success if it had not rested on the economic and
political gap between East and West during the Cold War and the difference in
cost of living between Eastern and Western Europe today. Eastern artists have
been commissioned to do bigger and better ex-libris, more colourful and with
more virtuoso techniques. Accepting the challenge and tempted by the rewards,
they have vied with each other to produce more beautiful and extravagant plates
– often closer to free graphics, and further from ex-libris conceived for
practical use in books. But as living standards slowly level out over the next
decade, in particular with EU enlargement and the integration of East European
economies, there is every reason to believe that the present wave will subside.
The splendid ex-libris they have made will stay as jewels of our time – like
the Ritter, Klinger, Nägele, Vogeler, Budzinski, Phillip, Schenke, Rehn, etc.
plates of the ‘20s - but will in no way obliterate or diminish the interest of
the bookplates more specifically and realistically made for use in books.
illustrations:
1.
2.
Dürer workshop (sometimes attributed to E. Schön). Ex-libris
Hector Pömer
3.
Yuri Nozdrin. Ex-libris Nicolas Junod
4.
Albert Haefeli. Ex-libris Robert Schuman
5.
Bogdan Krsic. Ex-libris French Cultural Centre, Belgrade