Not very moveable type

It's been nine years since I blogged about rescuing a quantity of letterpress type and Adana printers from being skipped. Back then it was all crammed into the tiny cottage and I never had the space and time to go through it or use it. When Andy and I made the big move in 2012, it was stored in someone's shed and in 2015 I had it moved here. And it all went into another shed. 

There it has remained. Not the best place for it; as you can see, there are quite a few gaps in the shed walls, the roof leaks and next door's ivy continuously invades any crack it can find. So recently, to prevent it all deteriorating any further, I moved it into the cottage. 

I did it bit by bit. The cabinets, being full of metal type, are a little bit heavy. After a couple of hours, I had nearly all of it inside. For the moment it is in our main 'den' until I can sort it out properly. 

It's not exactly convenient, but I need to sell a fair bit of what I have, and it has to be in a dry place. The printers and other sundries are now jamming up the little front room we recently sorted out.

So I'm gradually sorting through the bits and bobs, deciding what can go to help with the mortgage. It feels like selling off the family silver, but I have far more than I need and at this point in my life, I still don't have the time to play with it. I have enjoyed cleaning things up though, such as this old lead cutter. Transformed from this...

 ...to this. 

It went off to a new home yesterday.

Little Flourishes

A few years ago I was able to rescue a small letterpress studio - which caused a little bit of a problem with where to put it in our tiny cottage. The type cases ended up stacked up various walls and the printers are safely wrapped and stashed in my kind neighbour's stone shed, all waiting for the day when we move somewhere bigger and I have more space.

Anyhow, I was cleaning the spider webs from our front bay window and was idly looking through some type chests when I found an undiscovered stash of decorative flourishes.

Aren't they lovely? And I didn't even know I had them!

Christmas Greeting!

A couple of months ago I was given a quantity of letterpress equipment and two small presses (well, one was given, and I exchanged a painting for the other). A lovely gentleman wanted shut of it, but it needed to go to a good home. I heard about it through the grapevine and within minutes had bagsied it. Andy's parents were kind enough to lug it all down from the North, and their car just about survived...we unpacked the two presses, one 8x5 Adana, one (phenomenally heavy) hand proof press, four full size trays of typefaces, (Gill San and Times) and some empty ones, a little cabinet of small type, (more Gill, Times, Spartan and some yummy 14pt Rockwell Shadow) a bundle of print magazines, various vital odds and sods, boxes of this and that, quoins, chases and other mysterious gizmos and I looked at it all and thought - oh dear...

It may seem somewhat reckless, considering that we live in an already overcrowded small workman's cottage - but I have waited a long time to be able to have my own printing studio, even if that means fitting it into the everyday fabric of our limited living space...I soon had it tidied away and part of the 'furniture', if you will pardon the pun (nerdy type joke). Actually, if I am in confession mode, I have been collecting random bits of type and woodblock for some time, with the vague dream that I might be able to use them eventually. Some people have a shoe habit. I have a letterpress habit. It's cheaper and more fun.

Actually, I think my Adana looks rather picturesque sat in the window, next to the slow ripening tomatoes. (On the elm table which is also in the window because I bought it for a tenner and then didn't know where to put it...)

But I have not had time to play with my toys - it's the usual thing of making time, and I haven't done any typesetting since 1993. Last night I realised that Andy's late shifts were the perfect time to take over the downstairs room, where my bits and bobs are stored. So I began hauling it out from various hiding places...although the proof press, on the table, is now a permanent fixture and when it is not in use, we put two bowls of fruit on it. (Seen here on the hearth in the background).

I intended to start something simple. Maybe some Christmas tags for my Etsy shop, using these newly acquired blocks, one of the best bargains I have ever had on eBay.

So I started with an easy 2 bit design which took mere minutes to be locked in and ready to go...(in case you were wondering about the rather poor joke earlier, the blocks which fill in the gaps are called 'furniture)

For a couple of hours I fiddled about with the Adana, but couldn't get a clean print. I stuffed bits of card under different bits, wedged the platen with extra wadding and rearranged the blocks. But for whatever reason, although the press was working sweetly, I couldn't get a decent result. So I moved on to the proof press, which, unlike the Adana would give me indentation as well as printing.

Using an old catalogue as a pad, I finally got an acceptable result. The only drawback is that the blocks have to be hand inked with a roller. However I seem to have retained a few basic skills from my younger days, and this proved to be no problem after a few gos. There is something rather wonderful about bringing dormant type back to life. By the time Andy was home, everything was put back to bed and the room smelled vaguely of white spirit.

Today, when they were dry, I snipped, sliced and clipped until they resembled more or less respectable tags. Then I realised I hadn't got a good hole punch...I have since found one on eBay, but with rampant postal strikes bringing small businesses to their knees, I don't expect it to arrive for over a week. (I have also learned not to use the Adana on the coffee table, because it gouges big scratches in it...oops...)

And a singular Christmas Greeting to you too. (No, I don't know why the left creator of this block the 's' off either).

Printer's pie

'Printer's Pie' - a jumble of spilled type.

I took my graphic design degree for all the wrong reasons - I barely knew what it was, but I was in one of THOSE relationships where at the time you would walk down the street with a sock on your head singing 'la-la-la I'm a banana', just to please someone who's main concern was where the next pint and smoke was coming from, especially if I were paying for it. And he wanted to move to Newcastle because he had once played drums at a pub there and thought he 'might' like it there. And if I didn't go, (I had been about to apply to Central St Martin's in London) he was going to leave me - again. For the hundreth time in two years...*

So instead of the fine art or illustration BA I had aimed for, I found myself confronted with projects about leaflet design and biscuit packaging with the odd illustration brief thrown in. I hated it. I loathed it. And then I found the type room. It was in the early 1990's when the print and design industries were changing over from hot metal to Apple Macs, and all over the country trays of old lead type were literally being skipped, and melted down for scrap. Tales of colleges clearing out entire studios, and students in tears scrabbling in dump bins to salvage what they could.

But my college, in a city with a proud tradition of industry, made a point of keeping its type room, complete with vintage presses and oily smellng inks. Before any student was allowed on one of the tiny, precious new Macintoshes, we had, at the very least, learned the basics of typesetting, leading and spacing using the old composing sticks and chases, getting our hands dirty and kerning by using slivers of lead, not tapping a keyboard. Something clicked, and running my hands over a page and feeling the indentations in the soft paper, I knew I had found some small comfort in this strange, cold world of design.

I entered a magical kingdom and learned to discern the tiny differences between a dozen serif founts, where Gills Sans was the acknowledged king of typefaces and discovered that less is often more; ornate is tempting, but simplicity is tasteful. Later, when I had got to grips with computer typesetting, I would learn to love Quark Xpress for the same reasons; books. My gargantuan, bottomless obsession with all things bibliographic. I had done a little book binding in my foundation art year, using my own pictures and stories, and if I hadn't been walking down the street with a sock on my head (as it were) I would probably have developed this and who knows, I might even have had a decent career from the word go instead of crawling up the cold and treacherous mountain slope of freelance illustration. However. One of the biggest wrenches when I graduated was leaving the type room. I sniffed its dear, oleaginous air one last time, and waved bye-bye to that part of my life. By then I had an understanding of what design was, and doing that hated course turned into the most useful of learning curves.

Now I am glad that I have a decent grasp of layout, typesetting and composition, and it has shaped the way I illustrate. But I always dreamed that one day I would have my own type room and make my own little art books. It was always just that - a dream. Money and space - God, the space! I can barely fit in my studio to paint, let alone accommodate the paraphernalia that comes with the average printing set-up. And I realised also that I was in danger of spreading myself too thinly with all the techniques I was interested in. So reluctantly I packed away my lino cuts, my sewing machine, my needlepoint, my collage. I stuck to painting, which I was never that good at, but I had set out to be a children's illustrator and the rest seemed just a distraction. I knuckled down and devoted myself to being a half way decent painter. It took longer than I imagined. But in the last year I've been hankering to do a bit of printing again. I even picked up this old nipping press from eBay last year - the poor thing has been gathering dust while I waited for a spare moment.

And I think - I think - I finally have the discipline to juggle a few techniques at once. In between starting some new paintings and getting the new set of Red Flannel Elephant cards set up, I've been buying up tiny bits of decorative type, and even a whole minute set of Gills Sans. I cannot tell you - and only another type nerd would understand - the excitement this little block of letters gives me; EBay has become dangerous territory.

Next time the pennies flow in I am hoping to get an Adana desk top printer - Lord knows where it's going to go. (Who needs a bathroom anyway?) Ideas are filling my head for stationary sets and note cards. With a fresh pile of lino and inks, and a virgin roller just begging to be inked up, I am finally returning to my old love, albeit in a Lilliputian fashion. It's going to be good to get ink on my fingers again.

This week's horoscope for Cancer - I hope I can live up to it.

This time represents the culmination of your efforts to expand the domain of your activities. There is more and more that you want to do, and you resent anything that narrows your freedom and limits your scope of action. The challenge of this influence is to be conscious enough of yourself and of what you are doing so that you can plan intelligently and work effectively with enlightened self-interest as opposed to pure selfishness. As long as you stay within your own limitations - that is, your inherent limitations as a human being and the limitations of your situation or circumstances - you should be extremely successful. The sense of timing of your actions may leave others amazed and sure that you are lucky. But really you have succeeded because you have a complete understanding of the situation.

from Astrodienst horoscopes, the best I have found on the net - if you like that kind of thing.

*(it's OK, I dumped the rat a few months later and started walking out with my Andy, so in the end it was all for the best).