If you’ve already had one of these in the post then you’ll know what it’s all about, if not — here’s a sneak peek at the invites we’ve printed for the opening evening of the Leeds Print Festival on 27th January.
032 Red & Black on 700gsm GF Smith Colorplan.
Picture robbed from @LPF2012, thanks.
Morris ‘Golden’ was designed by the furniture designer, printer, and active socialist William Morris in 1891. At the time he was working towards setting up the Kelmscott Press. For 8 years he had been involved in the writing and printing of socialist newsletters, something he could only afford to do because of his day job designing and selling home furnishings to the wealthy.
Morris knew that he was only able to create art because his business was successful, and struggled to right his conscience against this. Millions were too exhausted by their own day jobs to have anything left to create or gain pleasure from art. “What business have we all with art unless all can share it?”, he wrote. His aim in setting up the Kelmscott Press was to produce beautiful books that could be afforded by the many.
The press had a lengthy setting up period. Morris was exacting about the type of paper he wanted to use, the inks, and the typeface. During this period he spent a year learning to print, make paper, and bind books. A second-hand Albion was installed on the premises, and Morris set about designing a unique typeface.
He collected 15th century ornamented letters (‘incunabula’), to study, and worked from enlarged photographs of typeface from printers working in 15th Century Venice: “…as to the fifteenth century books, I had noticed that they were always beautiful by force of the mere typography,” he wrote.
He was keen that the typeface should be solid and square, and that letters such as the n and u, and p and d, should not be mere inversions of one another – they should have details that make them distinct. He worked on the project for a year, and took to walking around with a matchbook in his pocket containing specimens of the latest letters.
The typeface, which was in 14 point, was intended for printing the Kelmscott Press’ first book, a reprint of Caxton’s Golden Legend. Ultimately, though, it was first used to print Morris’ own story, The Legend of the Glittering Plain. When push came to shove, they didn’t have the right size of paper to print the Golden Legend. Morris had originally meant to only print 20 copies for friends, but public interest in the press had grown so much that he ended up printing 200, and they sold out within a few days.
Things printed using 8 point recasting of Morris Golden at The Print Project:
Inner text on “A Stranger Came” — a 5-page short story chapbook.
Available to buy: here
Here we present the first in a series of posts from our friend in the “Norf”, Dr Peter Good of The Cunningham Amendment.
Letterpress set-ups don’t respond well to being moved. The cabinets and the type weigh a ton and over the years any press shop will accumulate boxes of things that will one day “come-in”. But I’ve now moved from my cosy Bradford cellar into large Norfolk garage. Never mind that the move nearly killed me I’ve ended up with lots more desired space. I no longer have to perform ballet movements between cabinets and boxes of things that will “come-in”.
Oh but it’s freezing! The cruel zyphers sweep in from the North Sea unremitingly. The morning frost sticks to my overcoat and it’s not even winter yet.
Setting type and using the hand press is a pretty stationary affair. Hence, the only exercise my body gets is restriced to my fingers and shoulders. I now dress like a Russian lumberjack. Two pairs of socks and fleece-lined wellingtons. A hat pulled down over my ears and some fingerless gloves. I’ve lost much of my sexual appeal.
The increased space means the garage has a central area of cabinets. Every fifteen minutes or so I begin a few circuits around the island in an attempt to regain some body heat. To an outsider peering in from the outside it would look like someone doing a Pythonesque silly walk. Knees raised up, arms outstretching, shoulders swinging from side to side. I’ve called these movements “Mitsubuti”. Perhaps if I take them up to combat speed they’ll be useful the next time I get mugged.
But the printing continues. Aside from the heat I’ve got lots more useful space to gather more things that will come-in. The sound system I’ve rigged up is great and there some kind of birds beneffiting from the paltry heat rising up into the roof from my radiator.
