What is an artist’s book, and why is it worth opening? (Part One)
We usually open a book because we want to read something. We want to learn, or lose ourselves in a story. With an artist’s book, the experience can be different from the outset, even before we realise that the text and illustrations — in fact, the typesetting, visual design and even the binding — are most often the work of one person. The binding itself may catch our eye. Or the lettering. It may take unusual forms, intertwining with an image or the cover design. We turn a page, then another, and begin to notice how the book has been made. Perhaps a question already occurs to us: can a book itself be a work of art? If it does not, we may at least sense that there is something unusual about the book in our hands. That alone is enough to make us give it a moment of our attention. Why should we? That is what this blog post is about — for anyone who reads to the end.
What, then, can be considered an artist’s book? It might be a rare, hand-printed volume, or an unassuming booklet of photographs of petrol stations. What connects such different books? How should we look at them, and where might we encounter them?
When the book is part of the artistic intention
An artist’s book is a work of art, sometimes a tiny one, in which the artist uses the book form itself as a means of expression. Through it, the artist tells us: this is how I see the world, and this is how I can put it all on paper and share it - in physical form. The artist pays close attention to how the book is put together, how images and lettering work together, and often gives the cover an inventive treatment too. The size of the edition is often not a priority. In publishing, the print run is usually one of the factors that determine the price. With an artist’s book, this does not apply. An artist’s book may exist in an edition of just one. Or two or three copies. In short, editions of artists’ books are usually nowhere near the size of print runs for conventional books destined for bookshops.
The English term “artist’s book” and the Norwegian “kunstnerbok” both draw attention to the book as an artist’s medium. The Slovak term “autorská kniha/author’s book”, however, can be less clear: after all, a novel, a textbook or a cookery book has an author too.[1, 2] The literal equivalent of “artist’s book” has not become the established term in Slovak. Instead, Slovak and Czech have favoured a term closer to “an author’s book”. I will not go into a long explanation of why. Terminology in this field is still evolving, leaning one way or another according to how artists and authors themselves use these words. And there is another complication: deciding whether a work belongs in the category of “artist’s book” is not always straightforward either.
The author’s personal involvement in publication is not the only deciding factor. A book about a painter, for example, full of reproductions of their paintings, does not automatically become an artist’s book. What matters is the role of the book itself in the artistic intention. Is it simply a vehicle for text and images, a medium carrying information? Or is it the very “place” where the reader is meant to experience that sense of encountering something extraordinary — something that is art?
The boundary is not clear-cut. Conventional books also have carefully considered typography, materials and rhythm. Illustration can engage with a text on equal terms. With an artist’s book, though, we ask how these decisions work together to create a work of art. A beautiful cover, unusual paper or a signature on the title page is not, in itself, enough to place a book in the category of “artist’s book”.[3]
A few simple questions can help when we first encounter one. What happens when we turn the page? How do the image and the lettering relate to each other? What would change if we transferred the contents to a gallery wall? We do not need to form an expert opinion straight away. Alongside reading, we are looking and experiencing a feeling that may have little to do with the words. It has to do with the book as a whole.
Josef Váchal: when lettering and image become one
Let us look at a particular book. Its creator, Josef Váchal (1884–1969), was a Czech printmaker, painter and writer who also printed and bound his own books. Today he is known worldwide, and his distinctive style is unmistakable, but during his lifetime he often endured hardship, incomprehension and rejection. He was extraordinarily productive and could carry out, on his own, tasks that would normally be shared among several people in book publishing. His early work was strongly influenced by an interest in mysticism and occult literature, which helps explain why his visual world can feel mysterious or unsettling. Not everyone finds his work beautiful or engaging, but it gives form to the images of his unique and unrestrained imagination.[4]
In 1911, he created "Z rituálu toledských haeretiků listy některé, o příchodu Páně jednající". Both the images and the lettering were carved into wood. According to the information on the back of the reprint, Váchal produced thirteen numbered copies on handmade paper.[5]
Take the lettering in this book, for example. Váchal gave it a form of its own, carving it alongside the image, in the same way. On the title page, red words stand out against the black composition; the irregular letters draw our attention before we even read the title. Imagine the same text set in an ordinary typeface on a white page. The words would remain, but their powerful artistic expression would be lost. Here we can see how the text and its visual form become a single statement.
A contemporary artist who takes a similar approach to text and image is the Czech book artist František Josef Koudelka, from Osek. His miniature books are published in editions of a few dozen copies, and he often gives them to friends. Koudelka, whose original name is Pavel Pech, comes from a background in speleology. As an artist, he is self-taught: he really did find his own way from the ground up. He is often compared with Josef Váchal, particularly because of his thoroughgoing personal involvement in making a book: the text, illustrations, lettering, typesetting and binding are all his own work. He made his first book at the age of thirty-five and continues to make them today.[6]
Ed Ruscha: what can twenty-six petrol stations tell us?
After Váchal and Koudelka, we might imagine that an artist’s book can be recognised by its distinctive style and painstaking handwork. This next example immediately challenges that idea.
In 1963, the American artist Ed Ruscha published a slim book called Twentysix Gasoline Stations. It contains black-and-white photographs of stations along the route between Los Angeles and Oklahoma City, accompanied by brief captions. It was printed by offset lithography, a technique also used in conventional book production.[8] So what makes it art? It helps to look at the book as a whole: the choice of a single, everyday subject and its repetition. The format. The intention. As we turn the pages, we encounter one station after another. The book has a particular visual form and rhythm through which Ruscha conveys his view of the surroundings. Its unassuming appearance is part of the overall effect.[8]
Ruscha is an important figure in the development of the modern artist’s book in the 1960s. At the time, a number of artists were looking for ways to share their ideas beyond the usual gallery setting. A book could be reproduced and distributed among readers.[8]
Does an artist’s book have to be rare?
An artist’s book can be a unique object or exist in multiple copies. Part of its modern history is closely connected with an effort to bring art to a wider audience through affordable printed editions. This is also a tradition emphasised by the French Bob Calle artist’s book prize, the Prix du livre d’artiste.[1, 2, 3] Equally, a book — including an artist’s book — need not be the work of one person. Váchal’s and Koudelka’s versatility reflects their particular ways of working. Other artists collaborate with printers, publishers or fellow artists. The Xerox Book of 1968, for example, brought together the work of seven artists.[9]
Artists’ books often overlap with fine editions intended for bibliophiles, where particular emphasis is placed on artistic design and craftsmanship, paper, printing and binding. But an artist’s book and a bibliophile edition are not the same thing.[10]
It is worth asking: is this book interesting in its own right as a work of art, or am I holding a rare copy? A small print run, a signature or an exceptional binding does not, on its own, explain the artistic intention. That intention needs to be apparent, or we need to discover it. When we do, we recognise a work of art worth collecting and engaging with just as we would any other artwork.
Is it a little clearer now than it was at the beginning? Perhaps — I hope so. Encountering an artist’s book is rather like encountering a painting. You can walk past hundreds upon hundreds of paintings before coming across one that speaks to you, makes you pause and affects you differently from all those you hurried past. The same can happen with an artist’s book. You notice it, and it often touches you the moment you pick it up. You have not even started reading, and it already has your attention. Then it draws you in whenever you return to it. Again and again. That is when it becomes precious to you.
Where can we encounter artists’ books?
First of all, in exhibitions and in museum and library collections. There, however, an artist’s book may be behind glass. In that case, it is worth visiting the gallery’s or institution’s website to find out more about the work. Another possibility is an art book fair. In the Czech Republic, there is GHMP Art Book Fair, or Tabook in Tábor. In Slovakia, there is BraK; in Norway, Bergen Art Book Fair offers a place to browse and buy publications from independent publishers from different countries.[11] In all these cases, “art book fair” describes a broader field: you will encounter other kinds of art publications too. For someone just beginning to explore, the opportunity to compare them and ask how they were made is particularly useful.
So now you know a little more about artists’ books. If, when you come across an unusual book, you find yourself asking, “Why does it take this particular form?”, you already have a good starting point for thinking about it. And I’ll continue exploring the phenomenon of the artists’ book or “author’s book” in my next post. If that’s taken your interest – see you then!
References:
1. RENOTIÈRE, Gina. Autorská kniha – střet tradice a experimentu (Autorská kniha ze sbírek Muzea umění Olomouc), 2009. Brno: Vysoké učení technické v Brně, Fakulta výtvarných umění. Dizertačná práca.
2. ASSOCIATION BOB CALLE POUR LE LIVRE D’ARTISTE. Qu’est-ce qu’un livre d’artiste, 2026. Online. Dostupné z: https://www.prixdulivredartiste.com/le-livre-d-artiste/qu-est-ce-qu-un-livre-d-artiste/ . Citované 3.10.2026
3. ASSOCIATION BOB CALLE POUR LE LIVRE D’ARTISTE. Prix du livre d’artiste, 2026. Online. Dostupné z: https://www.prixdulivredartiste.com . Citované 26. 9. 2026.
4. ZÁPADOČESKÁ GALERIE V PLZNI. Josef Váchal. Napsal, vyryl, vytiskl a svázal, 2014. Text k výstave 2014–2015; autorka výstavy Marie Rakušanová. Online. Dostupné z: https://www.zpc-galerie.cz/cs/josef-vachal-napsal-vyryl-vytiskl-svazal-0 . Citované 27. 9. 2026.
5. VÁCHAL, Josef. Z rituálu toledských haeretiků, 2024. K vydaniu pripravil Lukáš Jiřička. Jičín: Balbineum. Reprint diela z roku 1911. ISBN: 978-80-908-777-4-0
6. KAL (Knihkupectví a antikvariát Lege artis). Koudelkova knihtiskárna, 2026. Bibliografia autorových diel. Online. LAW, Copyright © Lege artis® web. Praha. Dostupné z: https://lege.cz/koudelka.htm Citované 3.10.2026
7. VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM. Book as Idea. 2024. Online. Dostupné z: https://www.vam.ac.uk/articles/book-as-idea . Aktualizované 17. 4. 2024. Citované 26. 9. 2026.
8. THE MUSEUM OF MODERN ART. Edward Ruscha. Twentysix Gasoline Stations. 1963, printed 1969. Záznam diela. Online. Dostupné z: https://www.moma.org/collection/works/146929 . Citované 26. 9. 2026.
9. THE MUSEUM OF MODERN ART. Various Artists. Untitled (Xerox Book), 1968. Záznam diela. Online. Dostupné z: https://www.moma.org/collection/works/11400 . Citované 26. 9. 2026.
10. ŽIŽKOVÁ, Zuzana. České bibliofilie na počátku 21. století. 2017. Praha: Univerzita Karlova, Filozofická fakulta. Diplomová práca.
11. BERGEN KUNSTHALL. Bergen Art Book Fair 2026. 2026. Online. Dostupné z: https://www.kunsthall.no/en/exhibitions/bergen-art-book-fair-2026/ . Citované 27. 9. 2026.
Festival and book fair websites: