Feb 13, 2026 [Book] Artist Talk: Barbara Beisinghoff

Dear Rare reader,

We hope this February finds you well.

What follows is a love story. Not a love story about people, but about the written word, the movement of paper, and the creative act. We hope you find it as inspiring as we did.

All our love,
The Rare Books Team

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“You may say it’s just an accident, this masterpiece, and so it is! But then, so is the twenty third psalm. Every birth is miraculous—and inspired. What appears now before my eyes is the result of innumerable mistakes, withdrawals, erasures, hesitations; it is also the result of certitude.”
— Henry Miller

In 1930, American novelist, Henry Valentine Miller, moved to Paris where he embarked on a decade-long sabbatical filled with scandal, poverty, romance, and obsessive creation. It was during this stint that Miller developed his unique literary style that so seamlessly blends the autobiographical with the imagined, the real with the make-believe.

By the end of the decade, Miller had published three books, Tropic of Cancer (1934), Tropic of Capricorn (1939), and a lesser-known work titled Black Spring (1936), the first edition of which is held within the University of Utah’s Rare books Collection.

Like Tropic of Capricorn and Tropic of Cancer, Black Spring was initially published by Obelisk Press and was immediately banned in the United States for its sexually obscene content.

It wasn’t until 1963 that Black Spring was published in the states. It was a decision made following a court case heard by the Supreme Court. The purple cover proudly claims to be the first paperback printing, completely disregarding Obelisk’s 1936 publication of the same title.

Black Spring
Henry Miller (1891-1980)
New York : Grove Press, [1963] PS3525.I5454 B6 1963b

Unlike Tropic of Capricorn and Tropic of Cancer, Black Spring took on the form of a collection of ten short stories rather than a cohesive prose novel. Nearly all of the ten begin with an epigraph summarizing a general theme from the story, apart from The Angel is my Watermark — a title followed by nothing other than a seemingly unfounded exclamation mark.

Black Spring
Henry Miller (1891-1980)
Paris : Obelisk Press, [1938] PS3525 .I5454 B6 1938

Years later, in 2009, Barbara Beisinghoff reprinted Miller’s words in her artists’ book that shares the same name as Henry Miller’s forgotten short story. The project was a result of Beisinghoff’s residency at Women’s Studio Workshop (WSW) in Rosendale, New York.

The Angel is my Watermark
Barbara Beisinghoff
New York:Women’s Studio Workshop, [2009] N7433.4.B437 A54 2009

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Please note that the interview has been edited for conciseness and clarity.

Q: When did you first encounter Henry Miller’s “The Angel is my Watermark!”? What stood out to you about the story upon reading it for the first time? 

A: When I heard the title, The Angel is my Watermark, it was immediately my story. I have scooped watermarks for 30 years. Nobody else works in this technique. I was enthusiastic to find a text with a watermark in the title. Henry miller wrote about the creation of a body of art. At first, pretty much everything goes wrong. He uses too much paint and washes it off under the tap. But then it starts to work out. “Every birth is miraculous—and inspired. What appears now before my eyes is the result of innumerable mistakes, withdrawals, erasures, hesitations; it is also the result of certitude.”

Q: What do you the angel within Henry Miller’s story represent? How did that significance manifest in your own interpretation of the story?

A: I think Henry Miller didn’t give the angel and watermarks in paper a chance in the beginning. But after successfully completing his painting, he wrote: “The angel is there to drop sprigs of parsley in your buttonhole. The angel is my watermark.” By watermark, Miller means a trademark, a distinguishing feature, and by angel, he is referring to a lucky charm. The angels in Paris, where Henry Miller writes his story, are not supernatural beings. But they are bearers of hope. First of all, he has no money. He is cold and hungry and hopes to earn some extra money with his paintings. And then Hitler occupies France. It is war in Europe. He has to return to the USA. Many Europeans are fleeing to the USA with him.

Q: Clearly there is a connection between the watermark in Miller’s story and the various watermarks you included in your book. Can you expand upon that connection?

A: Watermarks permeate the paper. Just as Miller describes the creation of his artwork with carefree abandon, I treat the material in an experimentally playful manner. I have invented a type of watermark that, in addition to its transparency, also leaves impressions. And beside of Henry Miller and Father Imberdis’s Song, the book has a third voice, my own (in Century typography). I describe the emancipation of the little watermark angel. Making paper for each page of a book with a print run of 47 copies with watermarks is incredibly labor-intensive. When the paper which I had made in the morning had just the right moisture content in the afternoon, I then printed the etchings.

Q: There are various types of paper being used in the construction of this book. Why did you want to incorporate different textures? 

A: I am the only artists in WSW who ever made every paper myself for an artist’s book. I think that was the reason that I was invited 2018 for Paper/Print: American Hand Papermaking, 1960s to Today, together with Tana Kellner. Everything should be experienced acoustically and searching between the visible and the invisible, between deep and very delicate. The margins are wavy. Angel wings are also beautifully curved at the edges. It should be a body of art, a creation like in Miller’s description. It should be joyful and yellow and radiant.

Q: Most of the book is composed of Henry Miller’s words, but the last bit includes a poem about paper translated in many different languages. When did you come across this poem? What is the significance of its many translations throughout your book? 

A: At the same time as Henry Miller’s text, I read the old poem Song of Paper by Father Imberdis from 1693. It is a long poem about papermaking. However, I only focused on the stanza about watermarks. The poet Father Imberdis is relatively unknown. He had lived in a monastery in France and wrote his long poem in Latin. It was not translated into German until 1945. Just as he describes the effect of watermarks, my translucent images should appear in backlight. I have many paper-loving friends in international paper and printing workshops. I let them write this verse down for me in their mother tongue. No other poems were written about papermaking in 1693. I think it’s a discovery. “Song of Paper” also implies that you can hear something. The paper is beaten for a long time in the Hollander beater, so that it becomes hard, strong, and at the same time delicate. If you strike it with your knuckles, it makes a sound.

Q: The book includes a various textures, colors, materials, and styles. What inspired this kaleidoscopic tone?

A: The kaleidoscopic tone is drawn from many different fibers. And the watermarks are created from many small, sewn-on and embroidered filigree objects. This is how, in the bestcase scenario, a democratic society could be composed. Not from the top down, but from the bottom up. Diversity represents life itself. Rich textures emerge when different perspectives are given a voice. Mobility is also important to me. The angel book can be pulled apart widely, allowing it to breathe. The pages can also stand upright, turning the capsule inside out and outside in.