Much is said about the difference between art and product, between creative motivation and monetary motivation. I think that perhaps no medium bridges those two worlds better than the book cover, a visual meant to entice a person to experience the art within. But what is strange about any art that touches the commercial side is that it is often, if not always, created by committee.

Book covers are no exception. A publisher tells a designer to come up with a few concepts. The designer turns those over to the publisher. The publisher returns to the designer with some changes. The process repeats until a sellable compromise is made. The author (the other artist involved) may have a say, but it’s a small one.

With my new novel, Stranger Will, I was put in a unique position. Not only was I given the opportunity to design some cover concepts, but my publisher agreed to let readers decide the final cover, essentially turning the audience into the committee. Here’s what they decided:

What do you think about the idea of creating art by committee?

Bruton Stroube is a photography studio composed of three photographers, Greg Stroube, Brandon Voges, and Eric Johnson (come on, Eric; change your last name to something crazy already). Most of the photography available on the Bruton Stroube website has commercial lean to it, but one series stuck out. Something strange is going on with The Upside Downy Face series, something almost imperceptible upon first glance. The reason is all in the execution: the subjects are photographed upside-down, but displayed rightside-up.

I credit the studio’s commercial background for this idea. Think, all the photos of food in advertising have been prepped in unnatural ways to get it to look beautiful and appealing. Basically, the idea is to create an end-product so perfect that the audience ignores logic in favor of idealism. The Upside Downy Face series invites the viewer to question the process (or at least be disturbed by the process).

Bruton Stroube webite

Upside Downy Face series

What drew me to this piece was the initial visual confusion of its medium. The acrylic paint is rendered so smoothly that that piece (when seen on the computer, maybe) appears almost three dimensional, clay perhaps. The implied depth is especially impressive given the relatively small color palette. The dark crescent shape at the base of this image initially distracted me, and perhaps it still does, but when I try to picture the piece without it, I can see the need for such an anchor.

Anyone else get Earthworm Jim flashbacks when looking at this?

The simple, single-word title informs the piece nicely, allowing the grotesqueness of the image to feed off of the simple body-part designation. Similarly, Steve Wilson’s complimentary piece, “Brains” (below) does the same thing, perhaps even more-so given the additional s on “Brains” (it sounds so much grosser with the s for some reason).

Visit Steve Wilson’s Deviant Art portfolio

When planning a cover design, one approach is to extract an image from the story and build upon it to reflect the narrative’s overall tone. With Shome Dasgupta’s forthcoming chapbook, i am here And You Are Gone, I felt as though I had no other option than to take this approach. The opening pages contain a very effective scene involving a dandelion and (possibly) un-reciprocated love. Therefore, when I happened upon the below image from artist Brent Watkins, the fit felt natural.

i am here And You Are Gone explores the schoolyard relationship between a young boy and a young girl, following their development through Junior High and beyond.

My first choice dealt with composition. Because the story focuses on individual characters, I framed the cover to highlight the individual dandelions. One weed being taller than the others also correctly implies much about the story (the female character is presented as more mature and less socially awkward than the male character). The drifting sees added to the effect.

As you can see, I didn’t have to do much to turn this image into a cover. The addition of the sun provided a necessary third tone to the piece, but basically I let the image speak for itself.

For anyone interested in either the artist or the book, here are a couple links:

“Dandelion Wish” by Brent Watkins

i am here And You Are Gone by Shome Dasgupta

Dan May’s work is soft. Truly, that’s the best word I can use to describe it. His fanciful depictions feel painted in thin layers to give the final image a glow, a technique called sfumato, which Leonard DaVinci often used. I don’t know that May actually uses this technique, but I doubt he would mind the assumptive comparison.

I choose The Hunter as the focus of this post because it highlights the contrast of his soft style with the harsh content. Here, a fluffy monster holds a knife, glaring menacingly over a hedgerow. These images take a childlike subject matter and make it creepy. Good work, sir.

Visit Dan May at his homepage.

Cigars are a Pavlovian seed for my writing. I see one, smell one, taste one, and immediately I want to write. A trip to the local humidor for me is like a trip to the library for most writers.

My standard make and model is the Drew Estate ACID line. But as prices continue to rise (due mostly to increased tobacco taxes, which I am okay with), I’ve been forced to be a bit more scrupulous with my choices. Yesterday, while perusing the lower shelves, I happened upon a brand called Ramrod. What struck me was just how aesthetically conflicted this stick of a cigar seemed. It’s ugly. But still it’s a cigar (re: it has an inherent beauty). It’s like Demi Moore’s kid, Rumer. The second surprise: this thing smells bathed in bourbon. Drunk uncle style just visited the local emergency cash loan stripmall shop, lacquered in vaporous, hot bourbon. But truly, Ramrod had me at “ugly.” I’m a sucker for the outsider.

I parked in my hammock, opened a beer, and settled into Ramrod and a notebook. First, the cigar is a bit lengthy, feeling more like the Virginia slims of cigars than the Marlboro ruggedness it promotes. So, considering the physical rigidness of the wrapper, I manned-up the situation by simply snapping the stick in half and lighting the resulting frayed end.

The taste is not nearly as potent as the scent suggests, which is probably a good thing. The liquor bite still stings the back of the throat, even if the taste is flighty. I wouldn’t call this a comfortable smoke, though to people looking to wear that ‘down in the gutter’ persona for a half hour or so could do well by Ramrod. That time, thirty minutes, is comparatively long for a cigar of this size. Ramrod has a surprisingly slow burn (most discount cigars are made with “filler” tobacco, which allows more air for a faster burn).

I think I could habitually carve out a few pages with a Ramrod.

While most of Fouquet’s photography relies in equal parts on the people and settings of New Orleans, with a oft-nod to the romanticized flapper-era persona she herself portrays, this particular piece, “Two Birds,” disregards setting in favor of rare intimacy. The classy female profile directly opposite the disheveled raven imply more than it literally states.

Perhaps it is Fouquet’s fiction writing which has drawn me to this photo in particular. Her collection, “Twenty Stories,” which I review in more depth at Outsider Writers Collective, is filled with similar character sketches, wherein the implication of relationships is often more important than the literal stories themselves.

Visit:
Kristin Fouquet’s gallery
Rank Stranger Press (“Twenty Stories” publisher)

Buy “Twenty Stories”:
From the Author
From Amazon.com

Take Jason Heuer’s Perforated Heart design, in which he takes the literal interpretation of the title to create an image with a perforated stroke. His original concept, which called for die-cutting the individual perforations, was deemed too expensive. But the compromise – a negative relief style to imply perforations – still intrigues. Had the cover been full of holes, the brilliant red cover color would have been all the more justified. Still, as seen here, the concept works.

Perforated Heart, with it’s recessed perforations, is as close as a cover design can get before it transcends the 2D format. And when that happens, we get legitimate book art objects.

Read more about the design from Jason Heuer himself, here.

This work succeeds as part of the caricature genre, where failure depends almost entirely on how poorly the depicted persona renders on the canvas. Here, as you can see, the abstracted elements of Waits’s forehead, his lanky frame, his seemingly physical dependence on the microphone, and his wardrobe all lend glorious credibility to Allen’s rendition.

And just for the fun of it, here’s a video of my favorite version of “Christmas Card From a Hooker in Minneapolis” (the song from which this piece’s title comes):

Visit:
Scott Allen’s Blog Studio page
Scott Allen’s Portfolio site

During the presale of my (Caleb J Ross) chapbook, Charactered Pieces, I vowed to fill each preordered copy with the sweet smell of ACID cigars. Luckily, the other artjerks were there to step up, as I surely would have crumbled had I attempted to stink up the books on my own. Unlucky for the buyers of the books, the pages ended their bath smelling more like pre-smoking-ban dive bars than ACID cigars. Lesson learned, I suppose.

The art here is two things: 1) performance and 2) audience connection. While the former is easy to grasp, the latter is something all to often forgotten in the world of books and art. As agent representation for artists and authors dies the way of New Wave cocaine parties, it is becoming more and more the responsibility of the creator to ensure that his/her pieces are appreciated by as wide an audience as possible. It is my hope that the fake Lungs for Readers program (and this site, obviously) helps to facilitate audience connection in a way that is both increasingly necessary, and always a fucking blast for all parties involved.

Want to buy the book?
from OW Press (the publisher)
or from Amazon.com if you must

He uses a mix of film-set props and still photography to set literal scenes, which allow a physical, yet surreal style. Since no photoshopping is used, the resulting images have an intimacy that compliment the horror themes beautifully. Much of what disturbs about these images is the very real, very tactile presentation.

This particular image, when set against his other work, stands out because of the blood’s  implied movement. Hoffine doesn’t use a lot flowing liquid in his work (as he relies on still sets), but here’s hoping he does more in the future. The institutional set–all tiles and and grime–contrasts the relaxed lower figure, allowing the floating figure to seem strangely relevant and appropriate.

For more about Lady Bathory, visit Hoffine’s blog post.

Visit Joshua Hoffine’s website

I’ve always liked the enlarge-it-until-it’s-interesting approach to composition. Finger = boring. Full-frame cuticle = interesting. So, taking the content of a specific story in Charactered Pieces—a woman who has a fetus-in-fetu foot protruding from her gut—I enlarged a sketched fetus foot to crowd the frame. I then worked in a color scheme that hints at comfort (motherhood also plays an important role in the story), but shocks with just enough contrast. Finally, I top and bottom the pane with solid bars to keep the image from spilling off the canvas.

The result is (hopefully) an initially discomforting image that slowly draws some sympathy, and eventually empathy from the viewer. At least enough to get the viewer to open the book.

Also, if you cover up the lower third of the image (to just below the ball of the foot) the figure kinda looks like a chick with a dick.

Visit the artist
Caleb J Ross

Buy the book
from OW Press (the publisher)

I received this print as part of a contest put on by the photographer for his newsletter subscribers. It was the best $0 I ever spent.

Visit Travis Eckert at Anti-Paradigm Productions.

Nabokov was a passionate butterfly collector, a theme that has cropped up on some of his past covers. My idea was also a play on this concept. Each cover consists of a photograph of a specimen box, the kind used by collectors like Nabokov to display insects. Each box would be filled with paper, ephemera, and insect pins, selected to somehow evoke the book’s content.

Read the rest/See the rest here.

I’ve long believed that our behind-the-scenes dvd-extras culture is placing more and more importance on the artist behind the art. This series of Nabokov covers exemplifies that idea.

Personally, I am a sucker for the caricatured innocence that seems to be all the rage lately. The large heads, cartoonish color palettes and styles, the enlarged eyes; all of it works for me. With this piece in particular, I think it is the colors that are the most striking element. And that is saying a lot considering the cardinal nesting in this subject’s throat. Quite a skill, to create such a visceral image, but still have it dominated by something as seemingly simple as color.

Visit:
Caleb Morris (the artist)

Also, the firm lines in this piece are fantastic. The solid black hat and coat set against the flat brown back, separated by a definite line furthers dreamlike quality.

Links:
Tom Keating’s page

When dealing with books, the main objective is sales. So, already, a particular piece cannot be approached from aesthetics or concept alone. But because of this apparent conflict, I think book covers can be approached in a way that many artists should approach their own work: how can I be an artist and make some money at the same time?

(end exposition)

This cover struck me immediately, and stayed with me for days until finally I post about it here. Simple. But immensely intriguing. The job of a book cover is to 1) catch a reader’s attention, 2) get him/her to pick up the book, and 3) turn the book over to read the back. This book does that. But as far as the design itself, the chewing-hair image is striking due to its nearly universal connotations: that of the young tease. The pink lips and the fair skin further this idea. As a reader, I imagine this book to deal with Lolita-like themes. This summary over at Publishers Weekly indicates that I am probably not close…maybe I’m just a pervert. Or, maybe I am simply reminded of this cover by John Gall:

(Mike thought it proper to admit that “the painting is an almost total rip off of a larry clark photo.” I still love you, Mike)

Links:
The artist’s MySpace page
The artist’s Tumblr page
The artist’s Facebook page

Here, a simple profile of a gun with a very direct anti-war statement: “No to Militarization. No to Lisbon.” I won’t claim to know the details behind the statement–that’s not what I do here–but the heavy contrast, visceral image, utilitarian san-serif font, and heavy dripping (meaning the person putting this up had to act quickly) cut right to the artist’s point. Overall, a successful stencil.

Also, would this be a collaboration piece? I’m sure the same artist didn’t lay the political stencil and later decide to surreal-itize it with a winged eyeball. But then again, I admitted to not knowing much of the Lisbon/Militarization statement, so maybe flying eyes make perfect sense.

The final image in the gallery below, belonging to Jyoti,  is Magdaline during flowering season. It just isn’t as striking as the Winter version. Too romanticized, I think. The Winter version has a very harsh, rigid feel that works with the metal to contrast against both the implied movement and the feminine figure.

I was lucky to catch this piece during the Winter, February 14th of 2009 to be exact. Valentine’s Day. I’m not looking into that coincidence.

Links:
Dessa Kirk (the artist)
Jyoti (the blogger from which the flowering pic below comes)

The intent is obvious: men become monsters when voluptuous women flaunt their wares. So with subtleties nonexistent (both in content and the strokes themselves) we’re able to appreciate the piece on a superficial level.

Links:
Jeff Filipski official site
Pressure Press gallery
OWC gallery

The pieces cohere in theme (motherly roles), presentation (anthropomorphic design), and material (fabric, primarily cotton and wool), while never exhausting any individual element. The stretched dress (“Everyday Dress”) is as striking as the the flowing gown (“Rag Rug”) is as striking as the creeping legs (“Pressing On”)

Details about many of the pieces included in this exhibition can be found at Betsy Timmer’s homepage.

Photo credit: Arts Incubator’s Cocoon Gallery Flickr stream