Artists’ books are a vastly underappreciated genre. They have so much to offer, to viewer and maker alike: portability, affordability, reproducibility, tactility. In the hands of Mary Rezny, who has been making them for about a decade, they have something else besides: all four dimensions. In her explorations of the charms of the natural world, Rezny employs photographs to show what a blue sky looks like; pop-up techniques to suggest how a field of Queen Anne’s lace takes up space; and movement to demonstrate the fall of a Ginko leaf in time. “Entwined Nasturtiums,” my favorite of her books, can only be read by a viewer willing to untangle the cords that bind up long accordion-fold pictures of the colorful, spicy flowers. Second to being in an actual garden and attempting this with a real plant—that’s how they grow, after all—would be to do it while sitting indoors in a cozy chair, the garden under a blanket of winter snow. How else than with Rezny’s paper translation?
—Lori Waxman 3/24/17 7:28 PM