Much has been written about Ed Ruscha’s publications. Milestones in the history of postmodern artists’ books, they marked a decisive shift towards industrial offset printing and helped establish the artist’s book as an inexpensive art form. Ruscha’s publications of the 1960s and 1970s were conceived as conceptual propositions, characterised by the interplay of abundant imagery, minimal captions, and the use of “text-as-image” on their covers.

Published in an edition of 2,400 copies, Nine Swimming Pools and a Broken Glass embodies this approach. Its deliberately neutral photographs, typographic cover, and sequential format transform the ordinary into the subject of an artist’s book. Unlike the previous books in this series, however, it was Ruscha’s first publication in colour. Tautological in its composition, the book presents ten photographs: nine swimming pools, photographed by Ruscha as he scouted low-budget motels and hotels across Los Angeles and Las Vegas, followed by a broken glass of water set against an azure reflective surface. This visual pun not only reinforces the sequence established throughout the book, but also disrupts it by introducing an ambiguous narrative thread that Ruscha, in his characteristic wit, deliberately leaves unexplained.

While the book unfolds as a rhythmic catalogue of Southern Californian lifestyle, the square format of the photographs reveals a deliberate formal sophistication. For Ruscha, however, the subject matter was ultimately secondary to the form and production of the book. As he explained to John Coplans:

“Once I have decided all the details – photos, layout, etc. – what I really want is a professional polish, a clear-cut machine finish […] I am not trying to create a precious limited edition book, but a mass-produced product of high order. All my books are identical. They have none of the nuances of the hand-made and crafted limited edition book.” (Artforum)

This emphasis on uniformity, mechanical precision, and mass production is central to Ruscha’s conception of the artist’s book. Rather than treating the book as a unique or handcrafted object, he approaches it as a reproducible work whose meaning is inseparable from its serial form and industrial mode of production. In this context, the shift in colour between editions becomes particularly significant: the blues of the second edition, published in 1976, appear noticeably more mint-toned, reflecting the evolution of printing processes and techniques.