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“Semilla de Sol” (English translation: Seed of the Sun) by Santiago Robles (b. 1984 in Mexico City) is about so many things—the conjugation of confrontation, juxtaposition of two ancestral figures related to the feminine and the masculine, multiple meanings of the seed and the sun as the origin of life and the ideal of civilization, and pre-Hispanic magical-mythological thought and overwhelming intervention of American culture in Latin American society and imagination. In “Semilla de Sol,” Mexico appears as an ambiguous, contradictory and amorphous community, without a legible face or voice, and corn appears as a transvestite in Virgin Mary, War Granada, Cosmic Uterus, Transgenic Machinery, Seer Hand, Ixcamacuane and Death.

Just as water is associated with the earth, the wind is associated with the sun; here is the permanence of life; copulation, agriculture and miscegenation; the fertilization of a people and the cultivation of a destiny: water man, earth man, wind man, fire man, corn man, sun seed. (Summarized from Texto publicado originalmente en la versión impresa de la revista Tierra Adentro, agosto 2015, página 67).

Weaving many stories between imageries and texts, Robles invites the viewers to take all that in to process and investigate all these multiple meanings.

Grrr!

Guillermo Deisler (1940-1995) was a Chilean artist who worked in stage design, woodcut printing, visual poetry, and the early global mail art movement.

Deisler was born in Santiago, but spent most of his life in East Germany. In 1973, he was arrested during the military coup in Chile and was forced into exile. He lived in France and Bulgaria, but eventually settled in East Germany.

He created artist books and unique mail art using rubber stamps and poetic imagery, blending word and picture. In 1987, he launched UNI/vers(;), also known as the Peacedream project—an international mail art publication with 35 issues, bringing together visual and experimental poets from around the world.

This publication entitled “Grrr” is an invitation to create meaning of this word on your own.

The note from the publisher in Spanish is translated as below:

“Grrr grrrr gr grrrrrrr gr grrrrrrrrr gr……

We invite readers to create their own translation of this message.”

This publication is a facsimile reissue of Guillermo Deisler’s artist’s book made in Antofagasta, Chile in 1969, under the aegis of Ediciones Mimbre (1963-1973). The facsimile publication was produced by Naranja Publicaciones after 50 years of its first publication. 500 copies were made that maintain the narration of the original and different printing techniques such as risography, letterpress, screen printing and stamping have been mixed.

You will find this and other artists’ publishing collections in our Reading Room.

For the last day of National Oceans Month.

These vintage postcard images are from our Postcard Collection. We wish you were here!

June is also National River Month.

Basia Irland is an American artist, environmental activist, writer, and educator whose work and career focus on rivers and watersheds, water scarcity, climate change, ecological restoration and waterborne diseases.

In “What Rivers Know: Listening to the Voices of Global Waterways,” Irland asks, “What if rivers could talk and tell their stories?” and writes their stories as the voice of a river. Below text is one example from the publication, and the last image is the accompanying image for this river.

“According to geologists, I am one of the oldest rivers in the world, having flowed for millions of years. As an old-timer, I have a low gradient with slow erosion, whereas younger cousins flow more quickly, tumbling down to the sea carrying lots of sediment. My waters flow south to north for 218 miles and helped shape the Appalachian Mountains. I am the French Broad River, named by French settlers in the region centuries ago at a time when I was one of the two broad rivers in western North Carolina.

The Cherokee have a variety of names for me: Agiqua in the mountains, Zilicoah above Asheville, and Tahkeeosteh after Asheville. As with most indigenous groups around the world, the Cherokee go to the river to pray and perform submergence ceremonies. The phrase “going to water” in the Cherokee language is synonymous with the words for bathing and submerging. Historically, the tribe recognized my floods as a natural part of any river’s cycle and did not attempt to dam or divert my waters. They knew, too, that I brought rich soil for agriculture when I flooded, and fresh sand for floors of their dwellings.” (from “What Rivers Know” – p.57)

Irland, Basia, Lucy R. Lippard, and Sandra Postel. 2025. What Rivers Know : Listening to the Voices of Global Waterways. First edition. Texas A&M University Press.

June is National Ocean Month. Here are some close-ups from an artists’ book entitled There is an ocean by Joshua Beckman.

In the words of the artist, this book portrays the high stakes of letting oneself go, of the inherent tension and displaced youth of the young, especially young gay men.

Check out the books for Pride Month in the Reading Room!

This display doesn’t concern itself with categories or labels that we often use to describe the boundaries of our identities. Queerness defies definition, boundary, and convention. How can we categorize in a single display that which defies easy categorization–that which often defines itself and contradicts its own determination in the same glorious breath?

Instead, our display invites you to explore the books here, think about how labels overlap, contradict, and how people categorize themselves, but more than anything come together in love. Some of the books here contain images of self-harm and accounts of violence. Queer history is at times violent and painful, but it bears that pain alongside great love and joy. The art surrounding queerness reflects this.

Books in this display are available to borrow for Harvard ID holders.

“When I went to art school, a neighbor said, ‘Some of the people in the art school just don’t work at all. Lazy buggers.’ And I said, ‘Oh, I am going to work, don’t worry.” And I did. “I knew when I was very young that gay people hid things and I didn’t want to do that I thought: ‘Well, I’m just going to be an artist, I have to be honest.” “Love is the only serious subject.” “Drawing makes you see clearer and clearer, and clearer still.” “I draw flowers every day on my iPad and send them to my friends so they get fresh blooms every morning.” “Artists, even when they’re dead, are alive in their work.”

Quotes are from “The World According to David Hockney”

In remembrance of David Hockney, who passed away at the age of 88 on June 11th, 2026, the Fine Arts Library is showcasing selected publications about his work in the Pride Month Books display in the Reading Room. Elsewhere in the Reading Room, you will also see what is featured in the video—an accordion book entitled “David Hockney: A Year in Normandie” that we have spread out for viewing.  

David Hockney (July 9, 1937 – June 11, 2026) was a British painter known for his vivid and stylized portraits, sunny scenes from his time spent in Los Angeles, and bold landscapes. His subjects were deeply personal—often his friends, loved ones, parents, and later, his dachshund friends Stanley and Boodgie. Hockney was openly gay. He painted his lovers and naked young men, but also imbued male desire in various other images and celebrated gay life—intimacy, love, friendships, beauty, and desires—without explicitly describing them. In his work, they were felt as a constant presence in the air, and he captured them with love.

Since the beginning of 2019, Hockney made his home in Normandy, France. He had been using an iPad for a decade in his work, but during the pandemic, he focused on the surrounding countryside, creating more than 100 images on his iPad in just a few weeks.