Three Practical Ways Book Arts Can Support Democracy Right Now
I was initially drawn to print for three reasons. First, I was a bartender working my way through art school, and the affordability of handmade prints made far more sense to me than the price of an individual oil painting (no hate to oil painters). Printmaking seemed like one of the few ways that making art might be a sustainable livelihood without pricing out working people from purchasing meaningful handmade art. Second, the radical history of printmaking—making ideas accessible to the masses—was something I wanted to be a part of. Third, the smell of ink, obviously.
My studio practice shifted during school toward larger, immersive work. Recently, though, I’ve found myself drawn back to the accessibility of the poster, leaflet, and zine for the same qualities that first caught my attention years ago. “From the earliest times the leaders among us have known that a good picture, song, sculpture, or building can get our attention and maybe change our minds. Art has been used to educate us, to mould our opinions, to confirm us in our nationhood and to persuade us of the existence of many gods.” [1] The printed matter around us communicates powerfully, especially in our times of flickering screens and unreal imagery.
These threads of thought led me to consider the role book arts communities play in the unglamorous work of sustaining democratic culture. The ideas below will not solve the structural challenges facing democracy or the arts, but they are practical ways our field can contribute to our communities during a challenging time.
Build Local Book Arts Communities
Local gatherings have long helped sustain both civic and print culture. For almost a year I’ve been sitting with the best intentions of bringing together a group of local makers I know who share an interest in different aspects of book arts practice. Writing this post became the push I needed to finally gather random notebooks with contact information scrawled on the backs of pages and send that invitation.
Local meetups are vital. They allow people to build relationships while sharing technical knowledge, exchanging materials, or sharing a meal outside of work and home. In our case, we’ve talked about skill sharing, bring-your-own project nights, and making postcards to send to legislators. None of these activities are revolutionary on their own, but together they help build the kinds of networks that have always supported collective power.
Organizations like Studio Two Three in Richmond, VA offer the opportunity to connect with local and national print and book arts community regularly. Is there one in your town? Could you start something more informal?
Photo taken at “Everything is An Experiment: Poster Printing” workshop with Amos Paul Kennedy, Jr. at Studio Two Three, 2024.
Empower Workers in Your Institution
If you have some institutional stability in higher education or nonprofit arts spaces, there is a good chance that highly skilled people around you are struggling to earn a living wage. Across many institutions, staff roles that sustain studios, archives, libraries, and workshops are often undervalued compared to faculty research or administrative leadership.
Yet facilities technicians, studio coordinators, archivists, and program staff are frequently the people who maintain equipment, train students, manage materials, and keep creative spaces functioning day to day. They are the infrastructure that allows the field of book arts to exist. Advocating for fair compensation, stable employment, and professional recognition for these workers is not separate from supporting the future of the field; it’s part of it.
Mentor and Support Your Network
Creative communities are also sustained by relationships. Many of us work in relatively small professional circles spread across institutions and geographic regions. Mentorship and informal support networks play an important role in helping emerging practitioners enter the field.
The book arts folks I’ve met have been generous with their time and expertise when I’ve asked, but many young makers and educators may not ask. When we share spaces, reach across age and experience groups. Welcome the next generation in, or ask your elders to share their experiences. Swap numbers and stay in touch. These small gestures help people grow professionally and remain engaged in vital creative work during draining periods.
The long traditions of book arts teach us that cultural change is rarely dramatic or immediate. It often happens through the accumulation of small acts of making, sharing, teaching, and caring. Progress is present and powerful in the protest posters on the streets, and also present in a crowded room that smells like ink.
Note
[1] Moore, Colin. Propaganda Prints: A History of Art in the Service of Social and Political Change. A&C Black Publishers Ltd., 2010, p. 7.
Caitlin Adair Daglis is a visual artist exploring layered histories embedded in Southern domestic spaces and culture. Working with paper, print, and fiber, she draws on craft and book arts traditions, using pattern and language to complicate cultural hierarchies. She serves as the Book Arts Studio Manager at the University of Richmond.
