Berger on Drawing John Berger Occasional Press ISBN 0-9548976-0-9 paper, 160 pages £12

I’ve already mentioned how much I like John Berger’s writing (his novel To the Wedding is one of my all-time favorites, and his shorter pieces — essays, stories — consistent display a rich intellectual and emotional range). Berger is on my personal short list of writers whose every book I’ll try to track down.

Which is why my ears perked up when I first saw a reference to a recent collection titled Berger on Drawing, from the aptly-named Occasional Press in the UK (in County Cork, Ireland, to be precise). The press’s website informs visitors that

Occasional Press was set up by David Lilburn and Jim Savage, both visual artists living and working in Ireland. […] With Occasional Press they aim to publish art-related projects that they find of particular interest and value. As the name suggests, they publish as and when they have the means to do so.

They have three titles under their belts so far, and if we can judge from this one — richly illustrated, printed on a generously heavy paper stock, bound in a matte-finish cover with French flaps — they have high standards in production and design. In addition to triggering my standing “Buy” rating for Berger’s work, this book plays to my weakness for small-scale publishing endeavors in general (my spit-in-the-wind opposition to media conglomeration) — it’s always encouraging to see what can be accomplished by a couple of people with determination (and, I suspect, an ability to be successful with their grant applications for funding).

Those already familiar with John Berger and his work will know that he studied art in London as a young man, working as an art critic (publishing essays and reviews) before turning his attention to writing fiction. His novel G. was awarded the Booker Prize in 1972, the same year that his television series Ways of Seeing — was broadcast by the BBC to wide acclaim. The book of essays which accompanied that series would later be widely adopted as a college art textbook in North American and in the UK.

Berger on Drawing brings together the best of John Berger’s writings on the art of drawing, selected from many of his earlier essay collections, as well as from his fiction. The selection is edited by Jim Savage, who says that this was

something I had wanted to put together for many years — ever since I first read John’s essay “Drawn To That Moment” in New Society magazine way back in the 70s when I was a student at the Slade School in London.

That 1976 essay is included here, and while much of this material will not be new to Berger enthusiasts — for example, a version of “Le Pont d’Arc,” Berger’s essay on his encounter with the prehistoric drawings of the Chauvet Cave, can be found in Berger’s latest collection of stories, here is where we meet — I was pleased to discover several pieces I had not read before, such as “Distance and Drawing” (four letters from a correspondence between Berger and James Elkins) and an extended dialogue between Berger and his son Yves, entitled “Lobster and Three Fishes”.

In the book’s first essay, “Life-drawing”, Berger describes one of his own drawings as being “a vision from just one point of view,” and we could say something similar of this collection: that it is just one of the many possible cross-sections through the body — now quite extensive — of Berger’s work. What is valuable, though, with a thematic assemblage such as this, is the opportunity to see the evolution of Berger’s thinking on a subject which has been so central to his life and work, an evolution which is easy to lose track of when the writings have been spread out over forty-some-odd years.

I think that one key thing an attentive reader asks of any book is that it make him think; about its subject, of course, but also about the things outside itself, beyond the obvious boundaries of the text. A good book should make you want to read more, either “deeply” or “widely”; it should not be self-contained. Such a book will make its own position visible — as a single star is evident against the night sky; but it will also cause the reader to realize that it is only one piece of a larger whole — as the star reveals itself to be part of a grander constellation. This collection attains that goal: in addition to the obvious — Berger’s deeply-considered thoughts on the art (and act) of drawing — Berger on Drawing offers the attentive reader many useful insights into the art of writing as well. Who could ask for more than that.

Jim Savage says that they “tried to make the book, in its own small way, a celebration of John and his work” and I would say that they have certainly succeeded. This is a thought-provoking collection, which will help fans wait through the dry spell until the next new Berger book appears.