Library Ink Stamps: Brought to you by the Exile Bibliophile
Background Illustrations provided by: http://edison.rutgers.edu/
Reblogged from prairielights  1,154 notes

Expired by Kerry Mansfield

Statement:

In elementary school I spent many lost afternoons hiding in the library nook reading while settled deeply into a green vinyl beanbag chair surrounded by the scent of musty paper. The first rite of passage upon learning how to write one’s name was to inscribe it on a library check-out card promising the book’s safe journey and return. I remember reading the list of names that had come before me and cradling the feeling that I was a part of this book’s history and it’s shared, communal experience exposed by curly-Q handwritten names and room assignments revealing repeat customers devouring the book beyond it’s deadline. An act of declaration that’s dissolving faster than we can see as cards are removed permanently and bar codes take their place.

The Japanese term “wabi-sabi” is described as the art of finding beauty in imperfection and of accepting the natural cycle of growth, decay and death. But unlike the American culture focused on spectacle, wabi-sabi is underplayed and modest, the kind of undeclared beauty that waits patiently to be discovered. It’s found in time-worn faces of expired library books that have traveled through many hands, and across county lines until they have reached their final resting place at ex-library warehouses where safe harbors are found in Costco-sized rows of “discards” and “withdrawns” rising within inches of the ceiling. 

The volumes documented in “Expired” serve as specimens akin to post-mortem photography in the Victorian Era when family members only received the honor of documentation upon their demise. Each picture serves as an homage calling out palpable echoes etched into the pages by a margin-scrawled note, a yellowed coffee splatter or sticky peanut butter and jelly fingerprints. It’s easy to feel a sense of abuse and loss, but they say much more. They show the evidence of everyone that has touched them, because they were well read, and often well loved. They were not left on shelves, untouched. Now they have a new life, as portraits of the unique shared experience found only in a library book. We must take time to celebrate the swiftly disappearing, unique communal experience offered by library books as it’s quickly replaced by downloads, finger screen-swipes and plastic newness. If you listen carefully you can hear the aching poetry calling from tattered pages that carry the burden of their years with dignity and grace.

Reblogged from newseum  384 notes

The speculative fiction almost writes itself.

todaysdocument:

Richard Nixon’s application to be an FBI Special Agent, April 29, 1937

From the series: Official and Confidential Subject Files, 1924 - 1972. Records of the Federal Bureau of Investigation

Upon graduating from Duke Law School in 1937, future president Richard M. Nixon submitted this application to be a special agent in the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI). After his interview with the FBI, he never received a response. Assuming he didn’t get the job, Nixon returned home to California, passed the bar, and began practicing law. It wasn’t until Nixon was Vice President of the United States that he learned what happened with his application. Director of the FBI J. Edgar Hoover told him that he had been accepted as a special agent, but that due to budget cuts, his appointment was held back.
(via the “Making Their Mark: Stories Through Signatures” eGuide)

Nixon’s application is among the featured items at the “Making Their Mark: Stories Through Signatures" exhibit now on display at the National Archives Museum.