I often read the Blog of James Gurney, a very traditional North American illustrator that is mainly known for his Dinotopia books.
In one of his topics he describes how he simply limits the text on each page of his books to the space that is available next to the pictures.

[...]With words and pictures balanced in this way, there isn’t the novelist’s luxury to indulge in rich layers of motivation, backstory, and extended conversation. 
It’s a sacrifice I gladly make in exchange for the glories that only pictures can provide.

A very modest use of text I thought, and what a contrast with the prefaces and text that often fill up art books.
So I wrote the following reply to the topic.


Perhaps it's an advantage not being a novelist. 
The urge to write a rich lasagna can be kept in check.
I admire writers of prefaces - mainly of art books. 
I am jealous at their seemingly unlimited ability 
to write pages and pages full of interesting sentences.
Yet at the same time I am embarrassed 
as I often fail to understand the meaning of their proze. 
I therefor often skip the narratives and focus mainly 
on the pictures and surprizingly I find the reading 
experience as full as can be. 
A limitation of my cerebral sponge I fear.