When I was a little girl I used to play a game with my friends. If one of my eyelashes fell out they would hide it between their fingers and give each finger a name of one of our friends. If I guessed correctly under which finger the eyelash was hidden, the boy it was named after would fall in love with me. We were building our hopes for love around one little eyelash. And I love how Wimper builds itself around the same subtlety.
And yet one of our jury members says, quite convincingly: “If you take this eyelash out, it is not much.”
Indeed, the design is not ground-breaking, but anything more than simplicity would make the book too heavy for its delicate contents. Each one of the many lashes spread among the pages of the book is treated with respect. The typography moves out of the way to let the delicately printed impression of a ‘wimper’ take its space. That effect works especially well considering the publication is intended as an intimate extension of Alex Farrar’s exhibition. Essentially, it is a poetic object that holds the soul of a long-vacated space. Or perhaps just another book that tries to enter the simple = poetic category.
When I was a little girl I used to play a game with my friends. If one of my eyelashes fell out they would hide it between their fingers and give each finger a name of one of our friends. If I guessed correctly under which finger the eyelash was hidden, the boy it was named after would fall in love with me. We were building our hopes for love around one little eyelash. And I love how Wimper builds itself around the same subtlety.
And yet one of our jury members says, quite convincingly: “If you take this eyelash out, it is not much.”
Indeed, the design is not ground-breaking, but anything more than simplicity would make the book too heavy for its delicate contents. Each one of the many lashes spread among the pages of the book is treated with respect. The typography moves out of the way to let the delicately printed impression of a ‘wimper’ take its space. That effect works especially well considering the publication is intended as an intimate extension of Alex Farrar’s exhibition. Essentially, it is a poetic object that holds the soul of a long-vacated space. Or perhaps just another book that tries to enter the simple = poetic category.