At Codex: Rethinking the Book as Object, Voice, and Resistance

Tacit recently attended Codex, organized by the Codex Foundation in Oakland, California—an international gathering dedicated to the art of the book. What unfolded over two days was not a conventional book fair, but a deep immersion into book arts as a serious, political, and craft-driven practice.

Nearly 100 artists and presses showcased works where the book was not merely a carrier of content, but the content itself. Many artists had even made the paper they printed on—revealing a level of material intimacy that felt worlds apart from large-scale publishing. The atmosphere was firmly rooted in craft, yet conceptually rigorous.

For us at Tacit—accustomed to designing books for broader readership and mass circulation—it was a powerful shift in perspective. Here, the book existed on an entirely different spectrum:from deeply personal expression to political critique,from intimate handmade objects to bold statements on identity, race, migration, place, and social justice.

Most artists were developing their own content and shaping every stage of production—from paper making to binding to printing—resulting in works that were cohesive, intentional, and uncompromising.

Book arts as critical practice

A recurring theme across talks and exhibits was the book as a tool of resistance and reflection.

Ana Paula Cordeiro shared insights into her personal creative practice—handmade books, photography, and letterpress printing—framing book art as a space for quiet reflection and community connection.

Anne Covell offered a striking presentation on how artist books can function as political commentary. Through works such as The Record, In the Dark, and Palpable Mass, she addressed themes of historical revision, erasure, and unchecked power in recent U.S. political contexts. Her books were not neutral objects; they were visual responses to cultural and political moments.

On the second day, Carole Texier presented her project Women in Printing, created in collaboration with Atelier du Livre d’art et de l’Imprimerie Nationale in France. Using traditional letterpress and historical printing methods, she foregrounded the overlooked contributions of women printers across Europe and North America since the 15th century. Listening to the struggles and resilience of women in the trade was especially moving.

In the keynote lecture, Natalia Lauricella spoke about her curatorial practice and the growing recognition of artist books within museums—tracing a lineage from 19th-century French livres de peintre to contemporary experimental and conceptual book forms. It was illuminating to see how institutions are increasingly treating book arts as serious cultural artefacts rather than niche craft objects.

Material devotion and collaborative excellence

Among the works that particularly resonated with us were the publications of Datz Press, known for handcrafted photobooks produced collaboratively with photographers and designers. The precision of material choice, binding, sequencing, and print quality elevated these books into tactile experiences—where every design decision was deliberate and meaningful.

Across Codex, one could witness a vast range of approaches: experimental forms, fine press printing, handmade paper, intricate binding techniques, sculptural book objects, and powerful visual storytelling. Each artist treated the book as a site of inquiry—both materially and intellectually.

A welcome shift in scale and intent

For a practice like ours, often engaged in large-scale projects and broader audiences, Codex offered a refreshing recalibration. It reminded us that the book can exist beyond utility or distribution—it can be intimate, fragile, confrontational, slow, political, poetic.

Oakland itself felt like the right backdrop—deeply rooted in art and activism. Walking through galleries and neighborhood art spaces added another layer to the experience, reinforcing the sense that books, like cities, are vessels of layered histories and voices.

Attending Codex was not simply about viewing beautiful objects. It was about re-encountering the book as a living art form—capable of craft, critique, devotion, and dissent—all bound within paper and thread.