“. . . what differentiates the artist’s book from normal books is that the artist’s book always transcends its subject matter, including its own text. Within the category of artists’ books there exist many varieties of book-related works. One subcategory is the ‘bookwork,’ usually a one-of-a-kind or multiple which comments through its very existence on the question: ‘what is a book?’ For example, there is Alison Knowles’s Big Book (1967), which was discarded when it wore out but which had pages, a spine and copyright notice, a fold-out page, a telephone line to the outside world, a grass tunnel in which one could sleep, and many other features not usually found in books or other works of art. Less literally a hybrid of environment, book, and perhaps residence, one could cite a piece by Susan Share, Stream of Consciousness (1979), in which the pages were cut and folded so as to form a paper spring, not unlike a child’s ‘Slinky’ toy. When the work was allowed to move from one space to another beside it, it suggested a paper waterfall. Stream of Consciousness had no words. The fold used was a ‘leporello,’ a zigzag fold found in many oriental books and some Western ones. If I ask myself, ‘Is it the text which makes a book a book?’ I must answer ‘No – its bookness comes from its shape, from the experience of moving from page to page – that is what gives a book its identity.’ This work defines its physical space and reality neatly and efficiently. It may be art but what gives it its meaning is its relationship to the living and interactive world around it.”

(Dick Higgins, in Sculpture Magazine)