Originally published on eyeondesign.aiga.org
—
Reminisce with me, for a moment, about all the fun of the book fair. A meadow of tabletops unfolds across a large hall, and the scent of new books is infused with the sweat of the trendiest nerds. You’ve approached a table having judged a book by its cover and find yourself face-to-face with the book’s publisher, or perhaps its author. It’s part-speed date, part-vegetable market, with all the thrill and awkwardness of both interactions. You buy the book. It’s a series of photo portraits of eggs and you love it. Hours slip by following the same pattern as your eye is caught by Mexican zines, queer chapbooks, revolutionary journals, minimal magazines, whimsical catalogues and feminist anthologies from publishers down the road and others across the globe, elbow-to-elbow with thousands of other paper hoarders…
—
Originally published on eyeondesign.aiga.org
George Kafka 