What started as a Zoom call on a rainy, damp October evening ended up feeling like accessing a different frequency of life — something that often happens to me when I talk to people who work in the realm of books and art. Esther de Vries does book design with the eyes and the heart of an artist looking for new perspectives. Her books have often been awarded Best Dutch Book Designs, while her intuition ebbs and flows in a process she has been honing for the past 20 years or so — a joyful, inquisitive exploration of thoughts and their visual representation.
What follows is a flow: a conversation spanning her design practice, her vision and the questions she keeps finding in and out of herself. Think of it as a warm-up for the Design Sessions talk she’ll be holding at the Glitch Library on October 31st. Register here!
(This interview has been edited for length and clarity.)
Emilia Barbu: How did you end up designing books? Was it more of a straightforward process, something you always knew you wanted? How did it happen?
Esther de Vries: Well, I knew that I wanted to make things and I didn’t really think about being a book designer. Both my parents are artists and doing a type of free, spontaneous work, but I felt like I needed something to react to. So I did know that I wanted this kind of design role, because it often comes with a question that you have to answer as a designer. So I went to Art School (The Gerrit Rietveld Academy in Amsterdam, to be more precise) with the idea to do graphic design. I think I also thought about posters or exhibitions, but somehow every time I made something it was all out of paper, even if the project was not asking for that.
So it was sometimes this tactile thing that drew me in, also probably because it was easy and I could do it myself. Then I noticed that when I was in the graphic design department, the project I’d be working on would often turn into a book, but I was not really conscious, it happened that I reacted in that way. So it just became sort of a natural thing for me to do, and I didn’t plan to do my graduation with books only, but that also just happened and I graduated with five books in the end.
So it’s almost as if books have chosen you and vice versa.
Yes, more or less, yeah. It was not on purpose, but it happened.
Do you remember the first book you designed for a commission?
I think that was also one of my graduation projects because it was a teacher who actually gave me this assignment and it was for a photography exhibition for a new building. And since it was a new space opening, I also designed the book as if it was a space. I made drawings of the space, the rooms in this exhibition venue, and that was part of the catalogue in a way. And I also think that seeing the book as a space was something that was always kind of there and still is in a way. Other books that I had made for this graduation project were also mixing this idea of having a space in a book or the other way around. For example, I took pictures of a certain book in a space and then they ended up in a book.
So to have this idea of architecture, of space somehow connected to books, is something that feels very natural to me somehow. And even now if I help design an exhibition, I’m more there for the graphic layer, but I also do the other thing around: I see the exhibition as a book. So I start wondering: what do we need to know to start a book? Or how can we maybe make a trailer out of images in the beginning of the exhibition like you would sometimes do in a book before it actually starts?
So it’s almost like an exploration, like an adventure.
Yeah. You walk this road, it’s a mix between these mediums, these two things inspire each other somehow.
Did you always have a passion for books?
Well, actually, I’m looking at my library right now and growing up we also had a similar one at home, it was quite big. And so there were always books around. And I think that might have helped start it — at the very least it didn’t stop it. But because my parents had a lot of books with images as well, I could just look at the images, even when I couldn’t understand the writing. And I also enjoyed looking in encyclopaedias, for instance, and just looking something up. And the first actual book that I could read when I was 6 years old or something happened to be Alice in Wonderland and it was quite a nice book to read because it was so weird, of course. And yeah, I think that got me interested in reading anyway.
Was there a book that had an impact on you or that you really enjoyed?
I remember that in my parents’ library there was one book that I always read, or that I read a lot of times, either way. It’s called Goodbye Picasso and it’s from a photographer, David Douglas Duncan. And I enjoyed this book a lot: it was about Picasso, but it was mostly with pictures of him being at home and eating a fish, for example. And then, in the next picture you saw him painting the plate where the fish would be on. So it was sort of a mix of work and life that I was very attracted to.
Is this process mixing work and life something that you also strive to get through your own creative practice?
Yeah, I think so. Because I really enjoy it when a topic is somehow related to daily life and even when it’s not, I try to do it sometimes, to create this connection.
For example, sometimes I work on projects for children. And in the very beginning of my career I had to design questions for children for the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam. And then I started to change the questions a little because I didn’t find them so nice, so I started pointing around: look around you, everything is designed, your ticket for the entrance, your shoes, the cup in the canteen, to let them become aware of the fact that everything has been made and decided upon.
Whilst the previous questions were more about formal things like, “look at the painting – is the red coming towards you or the blue?” and had these answers that were right or wrong in a way. And I felt we should not go there, we should go to the experience of these children and understand it could be different depending on who was answering this question.
When you design books, do you go at it trying to answer questions or get the reader question more? Do you push for answers or for more questions, more curiosity?
I hope the last thing, I’m not sure if it always turns out like that, but I do enjoy it when the book feels at least, well, inviting or human in a way.
…like you can have a conversation
Yes, exactly, and that maybe you won’t get it immediately, but you can look in it and see new things every time you dive in. And maybe at first it can be a bit different than the usual setup, but then maybe you get to build a relationship with it in the end, if you want. I strive for that space.
So what does your design process look like?
Well, that depends a little. For instance, an artist or a designer can come to me saying “I want a book, but I really don’t know what it should be”. So then it’s really open and it starts with conversations about their work or visiting their studio, things like that. And then we can have an idea of what we could make, for example if we decide to do something about the whole or just about a certain part.
I think two weeks ago I was with somebody who wanted me to make something about an archive she had full of papers from her parents, but she also had a cabinet and she talked about this a lot. And I thought, well, maybe that’s the book you need to make, because that sounds really interesting for this moment. So why not think about a book about the cabinet? So it can change.
Other times, for instance, a museum comes to me asking for a design of an exhibition catalogue and they already know where everything should be, so then it’s a different thing, of course.
But what stays the same for me, regardless of the situation, is my own experience with the topic, the way in which a topic resonates with me — and this is something I noticed recently, in the last five years maybe. And I try to figure out what that is exactly, almost in a conscious way now. I used to do it unconsciously, but now I’m so aware of it that, when I analyse what happens with me, I can use that or sort of distil a concept for the design out of it. And maybe that’s very common, I don’t know. But for me, it was sort of really nice to figure that out, that that’s actually what I’m doing.
So it’s like you’re unpacking your intuition and translating it into design…
Exactly. For instance, in one case I was walking backwards and towards the work and stepping back all the time, having this movement where I could see the whole installation, but when I came closer, I could see all the details. And then something happened with me, I felt this sort of enthusiasm and started getting really interested in it. So the book ended up having this overview of the work, but also a detail at the same time. This is an example of how this experience was translated. It can also come out of a feeling that things should be done in a different way, like in the case of the Stedelijk questions. It can also come out of confusion: I made a book about Kusama, the artist, and it was very confusing that every essay wanted to show more or less the same images about her work every time. And I also got irritated a little bit, seeing the same image again. So I thought “oh, I have to solve it because the reader will also have this experience”. How can I do that in a different way?
So that ended up my design problem that I had to fix or to solve in a way.
It’s like a puzzle.
Yes, I gave myself an assignment out of this, in a way.
How do you feel design should work with the message of a book? What role should good design play, ideally, at least?
That depends a lot on the context, the relevance of the book, the topic and other things like that. If it’s a book that should work as a dictionary, then it’s different, of course, than if it’s almost a piece of art. But as far as I’m concerned, I’m most interested in books where the design and the topic are sort of intertwined, they’re not separate. Where all these decisions about grids, and style, and order are really very connected to the actual story that is being told in the book. So we are a part of the story: if you would have it in a different design, then it would also mean something else.
How do you feel once a book is completed? How do you go through this process —is it like after a relationship, do you need to have a moment?
Sometimes, yes. Sometimes clients often become friends and we sort of start to miss each other because we emailed all day or we saw each other a lot. And then, all of a sudden it’s finished and then we feel sort of, well, hmm…what do we do now? But on the other hand, we do have a work relationship. I just turned 50 actually and I was thinking, who am I going to invite? And I almost never celebrate my birthday, but this time I wanted to and it ended up being a mix of friends and working relationships because they felt as a big part of me somehow. And with every person there was a different relationship, so, yeah, it can be like that sometimes.
Other times we’re also completely done and happy we got it over with. And then we also don’t want to look at the book too much anymore. Then, for instance, a year later I have to move it and I think, oh, quite nice actually. Or I see this detail that I still think is terrible, but I can think a little bit better of it.
Did you ever have moments when you doubted your path?
Well, at the beginning when I just graduated, I was wondering whether to buy a computer or a photocopy machine. Because we used to have computers at school and I did work a little bit with them, but I was not so good and also not so interested. I actually used to design everything with the copy machine at that time, but in the end I did buy a computer.
So sometimes I still wonder what would have happened had I bought the copy machine and been that designer that does everything with it, still. And I think about that because I enjoy doing physical, tactile things so much, instead of looking at a screen all day. And at the same time, I forget that I could print much more and cut things up. It’s like you’re in this screen somehow, and you don’t get out anymore. And I sometimes wish that I didn’t have a profession where I had to do that so much.
Speaking of screens, how important do you think visual education is, especially in our image-obsessed and (sometimes oppressed) society? Do you think interpreting images should be taught in schools, just like we learn how to read?
Yeah, I do think that’s really important.
It actually reminds me of a thing I’m doing sort of on the side. I took a course in Visual Thinking Strategies, something that was invented by people who worked at the MoMA Museum in New York a while ago. And it’s a process where you look with other people at one image or work of art or whatever it is, and then there’s a very simple question being asked, like “what happens in this picture?”. And you invite people to put it into words and the nice thing about it is that the role of the person asking is not to explain what happens in the picture. But to invite everybody to say what they’re actually thinking, what they think when they hear others and get different ideas from that; to become aware of the fact that we do not see the same thing, there’s a variety of possibilities in what people associate or think or feel about it.
And I think it’s also very valuable to notice that even simple images can trigger so many different things. And that feels freeing as well, to know that there’s no right or wrong interpretation, but there are many ways to see. Then it’s very good to be aware of this, because you think you might be communicating something, but it could actually turn out completely different. I think there are many aspects to it because, luckily, we don’t see the world in the same way. Also, when you do this process, it feels very enjoyable and enriching because so many different people say so many different things and now we all know this instead of our own experience.
We do need to embrace so many perspectives and especially with things getting so polarised, with one or two visions of the world tending to get all the traction and the attention…
And also becoming aware of your own perspective in a conscious way is very valuable.
When we were children, we didn’t go to museums all the time or things like that but there was one thing. When we went on holiday, we always went to the same house and there was a walk to the village and in the middle there was a bench overlooking the valley… And every time we’d sit there for a few minutes and every time my father would ask “what do you see?”. So it was sort of similar to the VTS course, I realised. And, of course every day we could mention something else because we saw more, and more, and more and this was maybe the kind of “training” I had as a kid.
And that also leads you to constantly look at the world with curious eyes and not get used to something just because you see it all the time.
Yeah, you start to notice things, it’s sort of a natural thing to do. I think that’s maybe my luck, that I had this question being asked.
Can you imagine yourself doing something else, professionally?
Well, there are two little things that come to mind. As a kid I really enjoyed placing things in different ways: so every Sunday morning I would change my room, I would rearrange it and also start rearranging the living room (which my father really didn’t appreciate that much). This was something I enjoyed: seeing how it feels moving things, doing things differently, I enjoyed that sort of variation and I still like to do that. Sometimes there are pages you have to design and you have to put things in a certain way that just feels right, to look for this moment that feels right. Almost like somebody making a window shop – I never did that, but I imagine that it’s something I’d enjoy doing.
I’m also thinking about cooking: I didn’t cook much as a kid, but my mother always did and now I enjoy it a lot. And normally I know what I’m going to make, but sometimes it happens that I actually start cutting the onions and the garlic and I think I’m going to make something Italian, and then it becomes Chinese in the end because halfway through I start changing things. So to be able to play a little bit or improvise, I think the improvising element is something I like. But sometimes that doesn’t happen with work.
Maybe you should rearrange your room on a Sunday again
Yeah, then I’d have to go back to that first sort of freedom again.
Do you have any recommendations for our readers, to conclude? Some things you enjoy and you’d like to share
This record my husband Richard Niessen bought (and that we played a lot lately while doing the dishes) that I find really beautiful, called Bright Future by Adrianne Lenker (Sadness as a gift and Free treasure are my favourite songs).
And although I am not a great singer or anything, I do like being part of a small choir where we’ve been rehearsing this song by a Dutch composer, Louis Andriessen. I like it because the four choral voices sometimes pass by each other so closely that it almost feels uncomfortable, but at the same time that brings a nice tension… maybe there is a design related thing in it after all?
Lately I am also starting to become a little bit more interested in pop songs that are actually sung in our own language since there are more and more interesting women singing in Dutch lately. I never listen to the whole album but I do sometimes go to this one song by Eefje de Visser, it’s called Ongeveer which is a bit hard to translate… it means something like ‘approximately’ or ’more or less’ and this in between-ness is what I like about it, I think, because the ‘not-defined space’ makes it possible for me to enter the song…maybe the ’not defined’ elements also play a role in design?
Just maybe!
Esther de Vries talk is part of Glitch Library’s Design Sessions. Be sure to also catch Richard Niessen’s presentation hosted by our friends at Rezidența9. More details here or subscribe here.
- The Responsive Nature of Book Design: An Evening with Esther de Vries
- Design Sessions #8: Books & Motion with Liza Enebeis
- Fully Coherent Plan: For a New and Better Society by David Shrigley, book review
- Libraries with Stories: Ana Rubeli on Cultural Heritage and the Poetry of Books and Buildings
- Design Side Paths: Exploring the Library of the Palace of Typographic Masonry with Richard Niessen at Rezidența9
