I'm reading Metaphors of Memory by Douwe Draaisma just now. I was excited to hear about it. I had been reading a couple of other vaguely related books about consciousness and media: Guy Claxton's The Wayward Mind is about how the changing consciousness of humans can be reconstructed from the various artworks (including books) left behind by particular cultures. Claxton look at the various ways people have addressed the idea of 'the unconscious' (to use the general term that Claxton employs), so I might describe Claxtons work as relating to Metaphors of Memory by renaming it Metaphors of the Unconscious. The other book is Francis Spufford's The Child that Books Built, which is an examination of the formation of certain aspects of contemporary consciousness (as exemplified by the expressed contents of Mr Spufford's head) through reconstructing the child's passage through the books they grow up with. As one might expect, various psychological references emerge, amongst the most telling being those to Bruno Bettelheim's The Uses of Enchantment. Both books include material about how books themselves affect and reflect consciousness. For Claxton, books contain material that are the expressions of Romantic or Freudian (to give two examples) images of the unconscious. For Spufford, learning through books of the concept of the city or the forest, they are the building blocks in fathoming an extended understanding of the world. In both Spufford and Claxton's works, books are channels through which new ways of understanding the world and the mind are expressed.
Draaisma's Metaphors and Memory is a history of the ways in which memory has been expressed and explored through different metaphors. These metaphors are often linked to the emerging technologies of the time, be they wax tablets, books, the discovery of phosphorous with its 'light-recording' properties, or those of photography, and so on. Perhaps the most useful areas for me are the sections on Draaisma's approach to metaphor itself and the section on The Book as Memory, the Memory as Book.
In his section on metaphor, Draaisma explores various definitions of what metaphor is, starting with classical definitions and moving towards more contemporary definitions that describe metaphors as the combining of two semantic fields. (Ironically giving us new ways to think about metaphors by employing new metaphors for their description). Draaisma also pays attention to the heuristic properties of metaphor: that is, how the modelling of metaphor gives us clues in the production of hypotheses. This is how, for example, metaphors used to explain neurological functions set up models that inform hypotheses bridging gaps in our knowledge about the positively observable mechanisms of neurological function. My interest in Draaisma's work has been to see if I can use any of his ideas to inform my own about artists' books. It seems to me that the heuristic function of metaphor- its tendency to form useful structures that can enable further hypothesis- has something in common with the heuristic function of working-with-books. In my view, this doesn't simply stop short at being a comparison between two heuristic tools. I think that there are further correspondences too. I have written at other times about how artists using books are using them to solve problems of practice, amongst which is the problem of the representation to oneself of what one is up to, what one's work means. It seems to me that the form of the book as an enclosure, as a narrative, as a structure, is not only a physical medium with certain properties, but also a condition of practice that artists could employ as a metaphor for their work, with the heuristic benefits that accompany metaphors. The identity of being a book artist, then, sets up the possibility of structures of identity that belong to the metaphorical structure of the book. What do I mean by these 'metaphorical structures'? Briefly, and obviously, the book is a physical enclosure, but it is also an enclosure for ideas. It is a sequence of pages, but it is also a sequence of metonymic and metaphorical relationships- a plot both physical and temporal and narrative- that the artist can exploit. It is possibly a form which combines different media, and which combines different roles for the artist, and these too have internal echoes where the artist can compartmentalise and cross-fertilise different parts of practice. I've characterised Claxton's book as Metaphors of the Unconscious, Draaisma's work is entitled Metaphors of Memory. I might characterise my interest in artists' books as an interest in them as a Metaphor of Practice. Artists frequently discuss their practice in terms of strategies: ways in which they see their work, organise their work, challenge themselves. I think that each of these strategies will be found to be explained via a metaphor, whose mechanisms and heuristic potential are exploited to some extent by the artist.
Draaisma also includes a section on the book's own heyday as a metaphor for memory. Memory's place in terms of what was regarded as intelligence is discussed as well. In St Augustine's day, memory is regarded as the wellspring of intelligence, with imagination taking a back seat- a reversal of our contemporary evaluation. Nowadays we depend to a great extent on external means of capturing and organising memory and prize flexibility , quickness of mind and 'inspired genius' most highly. It was not always thus, as Draaisma's extensive quotes of people praising the memory of St Augustine attest. Contrasted to this, the intelligence Einstein exhibits is far more to do with originality and imagination. Succinctly, Draaisma puts the difference in views of memory thus; in St Augustine's day we would say 'I must remember this so that I can write it down.' Today, we would be more likely to say that we would write something down in order to remember it. Draaisma notes the transience of human memory. The magnificence of St Augustine's mind would have died with him if it were not for his writings and those which attest to his brilliance. Books harbour and preserve that brilliance to an extent. In an age where generations succeeded one another far more quickly than is today the case, a book- most likely a family bible, would span many generations and form a link between one's ancestors and one's own time. The book is a metaphor of continuity, and a very real ark through time for the intelligence of the writer. Draaisma tracks the decline of the book's cachet too, as they became more widespread and less valuable, and as the wilderness of writings became vaster and vaster, more secular and more various. I don't entirely agree with the simplicity of this diagnosis. There is still something about books which gives one cause to believe their contents will be preserved somehow, even if only temporarily. This accompanies the physical setting-aside that enclosure within covers gives, and, I think, cannot be wholly explained by the book's physical seperateness. They are still arks of intention to some extent, an idea I hope to examine in greater detail as my research progresses.
Draaisma's other chapters (so far- I'm about half way through) deal more explicitly with various metaphors of memory that occur as new technology and paradigms of though sweep through culture. I think that my main interests in his book have already been addressed, and that further reading will only inform my ideas about memory, rather than about books. I've also benefited from his early discussion of metaphor. However, I will continue, since there are chapters on, for example, the metaphor of memory as photography that will be of interest simply for their relevance to visual culture at large.
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