About the Kenneth Baker Library
Welcome to the Kenneth Baker Library.
This project celebrates the memory of a generous man with a remarkable intellect.
One’s books are a window into one’s soul, and Kenneth Baker’s books say a lot about him. Kenneth’s curiosity was unquenchable, and it made him all the wiser. As a professional art critic for half a century—much of that time at the San Francisco Chronicle—Kenneth had an encyclopedic knowledge of art history and the art world. Many of the books in his collection reflect this, from weighty volumes on European masters to newer titles exploring the works of emerging artists around the world. Kenneth’s catholic tastes are evident in an insightful artnet interview in which he says, “I see wonderful work being done everywhere, all the time. Some of it’s very slight, but that doesn’t matter. That only matters if you’re interested in ranking, rather than the surprise and experience and cogitation and humor and so on that actually come out of the experience of making stuff and looking at it.”
One can get a good sense of Kenneth’s philosophical frame of mind and his critical approach to art—as well as his cheery nature—in this presentation in which he brilliantly speaks at length, without notes, about the work of the Irish painter Patrick Graham. Of the work, Kenneth says, “It requires you to go downward into yourself, into memory, into past associations, into experiences of art, into layers of awareness that you may wish to disavow or be numb to. It’s an art of awakenings. And the question, ‘awakening to what,’ is exactly meant to be unanswerable, I think. That’s part of its provocation, that you can’t give a definite interpretation of this work. I would feel cheated if I felt that someone had adequately explained what I see—even the artist himself.”
***
Kenneth bought his books at local independent bookstores and during his many travels. Some came with their original bookmarks—from City Lights, Dog Eared Books, Alexander Book Company, and Green Arcade in San Francisco; McNally Jackson and 192 Books in New York; and the London Review Bookshop. Others were sent to him by publishers.
Kenneth’s interests went far beyond art. He was exceptionally well read, keeping up with current fiction, learning about scientific advances, delving into philosophical texts, and deepening his understanding of foreign cultures. He grew up in a blue-collar suburb of Boston, but he quickly expanded his horizons. His fondness for Japan was expressed in his devotion to the martial art of aikido, which he taught for decades.
As Lawrence Rinder, the former director of the Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive, said about Kenneth, “He was a true intellectual, and his critical frame of reference was extremely broad.”
***
I was lucky to know Kenneth as a friend. We worked together for fifteen years, and I wrote about him here. Kenneth was a fatherly figure to me. He didn’t have children, and years ago, long before he died, he let me know that he'd like me to inherit his books. He wasn't sentimental about them—do with them what you wish, he told me with his Zen insouciance.
Inspired by Kenneth’s generosity, I decided to donate most of his books to others. Kenneth’s library will grow over time as I continue to donate his books. I like to think of the books as taking on a new life in the community, cultivating minds as they circulate among readers—not unlike wildflowers that grow hither and yon after their seeds have been broadcast freely across a landscape.
At the front of each of Kenneth’s books is a stamp of a QR code that takes you to this website. Perhaps that is why you are now reading this: you came into possession of one of Kenneth’s books. If so, I encourage you to share your comments on this site: How did the book become yours, and what do you make of it? I hope this project stirs conversations about these books and their ideas. Also, if you live in the Bay Area and are interested in acquiring some of Kenneth's books—or know of an organization that could make good use of some of them, feel free to get in touch on this site or email kennethbakerlibrary [at] gmail [dot] com.
This project has been a labor of love for years. Any donation you can make would be most appreciated—and would help the library thrive. If you would like to contribute, you can do so here.
***
Each of Kenneth’s books feature a bookplate of this library. My wife, Leah Mahan, drew and carved its image of a crane, seen below, basing it on a 19th century Japanese painting. I chose this graceful creature for what it has long symbolized in Kenneth’s beloved Japan: longevity and good fortune. This is a fitting image for Kenneth’s library, I believe, as I imagine a part of Kenneth living on through his books, the wings of the bird keeping him in flight.
— John McMurtrie, curator of the Kenneth Baker Library
This project celebrates the memory of a generous man with a remarkable intellect.
One’s books are a window into one’s soul, and Kenneth Baker’s books say a lot about him. Kenneth’s curiosity was unquenchable, and it made him all the wiser. As a professional art critic for half a century—much of that time at the San Francisco Chronicle—Kenneth had an encyclopedic knowledge of art history and the art world. Many of the books in his collection reflect this, from weighty volumes on European masters to newer titles exploring the works of emerging artists around the world. Kenneth’s catholic tastes are evident in an insightful artnet interview in which he says, “I see wonderful work being done everywhere, all the time. Some of it’s very slight, but that doesn’t matter. That only matters if you’re interested in ranking, rather than the surprise and experience and cogitation and humor and so on that actually come out of the experience of making stuff and looking at it.”
One can get a good sense of Kenneth’s philosophical frame of mind and his critical approach to art—as well as his cheery nature—in this presentation in which he brilliantly speaks at length, without notes, about the work of the Irish painter Patrick Graham. Of the work, Kenneth says, “It requires you to go downward into yourself, into memory, into past associations, into experiences of art, into layers of awareness that you may wish to disavow or be numb to. It’s an art of awakenings. And the question, ‘awakening to what,’ is exactly meant to be unanswerable, I think. That’s part of its provocation, that you can’t give a definite interpretation of this work. I would feel cheated if I felt that someone had adequately explained what I see—even the artist himself.”
***
Kenneth bought his books at local independent bookstores and during his many travels. Some came with their original bookmarks—from City Lights, Dog Eared Books, Alexander Book Company, and Green Arcade in San Francisco; McNally Jackson and 192 Books in New York; and the London Review Bookshop. Others were sent to him by publishers.
Kenneth’s interests went far beyond art. He was exceptionally well read, keeping up with current fiction, learning about scientific advances, delving into philosophical texts, and deepening his understanding of foreign cultures. He grew up in a blue-collar suburb of Boston, but he quickly expanded his horizons. His fondness for Japan was expressed in his devotion to the martial art of aikido, which he taught for decades.
As Lawrence Rinder, the former director of the Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive, said about Kenneth, “He was a true intellectual, and his critical frame of reference was extremely broad.”
***
I was lucky to know Kenneth as a friend. We worked together for fifteen years, and I wrote about him here. Kenneth was a fatherly figure to me. He didn’t have children, and years ago, long before he died, he let me know that he'd like me to inherit his books. He wasn't sentimental about them—do with them what you wish, he told me with his Zen insouciance.
Inspired by Kenneth’s generosity, I decided to donate most of his books to others. Kenneth’s library will grow over time as I continue to donate his books. I like to think of the books as taking on a new life in the community, cultivating minds as they circulate among readers—not unlike wildflowers that grow hither and yon after their seeds have been broadcast freely across a landscape.
At the front of each of Kenneth’s books is a stamp of a QR code that takes you to this website. Perhaps that is why you are now reading this: you came into possession of one of Kenneth’s books. If so, I encourage you to share your comments on this site: How did the book become yours, and what do you make of it? I hope this project stirs conversations about these books and their ideas. Also, if you live in the Bay Area and are interested in acquiring some of Kenneth's books—or know of an organization that could make good use of some of them, feel free to get in touch on this site or email kennethbakerlibrary [at] gmail [dot] com.
This project has been a labor of love for years. Any donation you can make would be most appreciated—and would help the library thrive. If you would like to contribute, you can do so here.
***
Each of Kenneth’s books feature a bookplate of this library. My wife, Leah Mahan, drew and carved its image of a crane, seen below, basing it on a 19th century Japanese painting. I chose this graceful creature for what it has long symbolized in Kenneth’s beloved Japan: longevity and good fortune. This is a fitting image for Kenneth’s library, I believe, as I imagine a part of Kenneth living on through his books, the wings of the bird keeping him in flight.
— John McMurtrie, curator of the Kenneth Baker Library
