MAKERS | EUROPE | ITALY | PAPER
Crizu | Paper Sculptor
At some point in beautiful city flats or imposing country villas, curious sculptures made of paper began to appear, placed next to antiques, vintage furniture and other tasteful objects. These are the highly original creations of Anna Bonino, made from books that take on hypnotic shapes but remain readable, because no page is cut out.
How did you begin?
Our business is now 10 years old, but it started quietly from an idea of my mother, who treated it as a kind of hobby and gave her creations as gifts to friends. After my studies I worked in a workshop specializing in old paintings, after which I joined the Master Paintings section at Christie’s in London.
It was after my return to Italy that I ‘rediscovered’ the potential of the idea of folding old books, seeing how many elements actually matched what I wanted to do: a manual activity, handling old and possibly neglected objects, and with a creative component capable of giving vent to my craving for beauty.
We started presenting our creations at Maison et Objet, the famous design fair in Paris, and the business somehow exploded in our hands. It was very gratifying to realize how much of a hold the ‘book’ still has for people of all ages and backgrounds. We realized that taking over old books abandoned in cellars and giving them new life was the right direction for us.
How did you learn?
According to the myth, one day when we were still living in the United States, my mother glimpsed inside the window of a closed shop selling oriental antiquities and saw a book with the pages engraved in the shape of ideograms. The effect was sculptural and the pages had probably been cut or burned to achieve it, thus using a very different method than what would become ours. But somehow the idea took root in her imagination, and my mother began to experiment to see how she could reshape old books and turn them into art objects.
We had a centuries-old house in Genoa filled with dusty, and these became guinea pigs for experiments. From the very beginning, they were never cut, because the respect for these condensations of knowledge was too strong. My mother would just fold the pages. At first, she drew basic shapes, mostly cylinders, but gradually our research became more complex and reckless. The process of learning was all trial and error, and in truth not all experiments worked. I keep a small sentimental graveyard of books that ‘gave out’; that is, sculptural attempts that collapsed or sagged. I'd be too sorry to dispose of them.
How do you plan, prepare and create your works?
The first step is also the crucial one: finding the right book is what really guarantees the final result. The choice is very limited, considering that our preference is for books a few decades (if not a century) old and at least 600 pages. The former is desirable for reasons of patina and paper quality, the latter because we realised that it is the minimum number of pages for sculptural potential.
From this starting point, by folding the pages with precision and patience, many different effects can be achieved – but the customisations are not infinite, because the object itself sets limits, as does our choice not to cut or break the paper. The only thing we remove is the cover, and the only things we add are the brass finials. Besides being pretty and useful to make the sculpture look ‘complete’, they also serve to move the work without handling the pages. I have recently added a step: I like to color the pages to have a monochrome block, or decorate them later, when the silhouette is formed, with polychrome designs and patterns. A single book takes about a day and a half to complete.
Who or what most influences your work?
My inspiration comes directly from books. By handling them, one becomes more familiar with them than by simply reading them, and one realises their tactile component, and also their history. Wavy books have suffered from dampness, perhaps because they have been forgotten in a cellar, while other pages indicate a past of being too close to a fireplace or heat source. But ultimately, I must say that I am not attracted to perfection. I consider certain levels of flawlessness undesirable. The stain, the halo, the patina nuances are part of the ‘handmade’ apparatus.
What does a typical day look like?
I like to say that my work is ‘à-porter’, meaning that I can do it anywhere, as long as I have my books with me. However, as is often the case with manual work, it requires a great deal of concentration, so when I start folding I have to consider that I have at least six or seven hours of uninterrupted work ahead of me. It may sound like an exaggeration, but folding reflects the rhythm of the hands so much that, to a clinical eye like mine, even the interruption to receive a phone call ends up being visible.
Interview by Sara Pierdonà
Images from Crizu
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∼ Crafted In Italy ∼
