Goudy, not Gaudy

It's time for confession: I have yet to design and compose and print a project of my own.

In the Introductory Workshop, back when it was Press Club, I designed and set the type for a quote to put on a postcard. I finished late in the semester (way back in Freshman year), so I did not get a chance to print it. However, I have had plenty of experience in designing within a group, composing composing composing (and distributing x 3), and printing.

A few weeks ago, a certain notion thundered its way into my skull: I have access to the most rewarding form of vanity publishing. Hooray! Over the course of a month or so, I'll be scraping together my free time to design, compose, and print one of my very own poems. Did I mention I'm an "aspiring" poet? Or that I feel that "aspiring" is a rather frustrating term. I am a student poet who aspires to publication, but I am still a poet. And an artist. But that is a rant for another day.

What's strange is that by writing about the project here and posting a picture of the finished product, I'm sort of publishing the same work twice. As far as distribution of the physical product... if my family reads this blog, I'm spoiling their Christmas surprise. But in all sincerity, the project is primarily an exercise, a portfolio piece, and the expression of a desire to see my own writing in print.

I kick-started the process several weeks ago. I chose the poem, and then set about finding a font for the body.

It's absolutely useless to begin setting text only to later find that you've run out of the letter 'e,' or similar. My poem contains almost one hundred 'e's. So I limited myself to type cases that were brimming with letters.

This meant that my selection was essentially restricted to the more famous, well-stocked typefaces. I went with the standard 12 point size for two reasons: we have more variety in the 12 and 14 point ranges, and 14 felt too big for an already bulky poem of 35 lines. Italic would make it too delicate and bold would again be too bulky.

But here, elegance and readability, my next two essentials, were on my side. Most of the popular fonts are popular for good reasons. What took effort was the search for a font that was a little more unique. Caslon and Goudy found themselves neck and neck in the race for my favor for the simple reason that I could find neither in the font list of my copy of Microsoft Word. I considered in particular the Old Style forms of each font family because "Old Style" sounded fancier, an assumption that proved true.

Pacing the cramped basement for the fifteenth time, I told myself I could not afford to spend three hours on the selection of a font, and since I already had, I certainly could not afford a fourth. I brought the Goudy up to the Print Shop to examine directly against the Caslon. The letter 'g' sold it. Caslon's has a little serif that looks like a bulbous nose; Goudy's sweeps up and comes to a delicate point.

[Picture of g's here]

The next step is to set the type.

Mandrakes and Materials

Today, Oni Buchanan gave a reading and demonstration of her poetry at the Literary House. She is highly attuned to form, and many of her poems play with her ideas of form and how the letters of the poems she writes can birth further, connected poetry. Many of her poems are actually two poems layered in such a way as to create a third, or poems inside poems.

In her Mandrake Vehicles, she takes form to a whole new level. She presents a poem in three parts, three large blocks of text, and, through flash animations, lifts "light" letters from each block poem to reveal further poems.

What I find particularly inspiring is the way Buchanan sees her poems - they are constructed word by word, letter by letter, and letters have vitality. They have the ability to move around on the page, to condense and speak further.

Even though she has taken her poetry into the digital format to give it literal movement, each letter has purpose, even the "light" letters, which, in one layer of The Mandrake Vehicles, form what she calls "detritus words" that rest below the poem.

She said that she had trouble envisioning her mandrake work in book form that would retain the fluidity of the letters, I can't help but think that she just didn't find the right book artist to help her. The traditionalist in me - hah, I work with moveable type - wants to see her layers formed by physical pages, transparent and translucent as she described in her talk. I'm imagining more pages than just one for each layer - extra pages that somehow show the tumbling of the letters... something that might even end up like a flip book.

However, regardless of my impulse toward traditional form, I absolutely love the elegance of the Flash solution.

Turning Matter into Spirit

For our first project, we in the Advanced Workshop resolved to let the letters speak for themselves.

Our goal was to produce a broadside that could be sent to schools around Maryland (not just Kent County, as we had initially planned) to celebrate teachers and writing. We wanted to give teachers something that would make them smile, something that they might hang on their classroom wall.

We decided that the best approach would be to find a poignant quote - but not one that would have students rolling their eyes - and give it some graphic punch. Marian suggested that we incorporate the alphabet to that end.

Of the quotes we considered, most would have generated some serious eye-rolling. We probably would have indirectly sent some seniors to the hospital for eyeball lubrication and rehabilitation.

Then it clicked. Alphonse de Lamartine cried up from our notes: "Letters are symbols which turn matter into spirit!" and shook his fists at our thumbnail sketches of alphabet arrangements. What better saying to frame with an alphabet?

I love this broadside. I love the red alphabet that marches across in the bold yet elegant Solemnis font.

But will its audience? Will my favorite English teacher from high school run her hand across the letters, a slight smile on her face? Well, she'll smile, because she'll get a note from me along with the broadside. Will the rest of the teachers appreciate the unpersonalized, yet sincere, gesture? How many of the 336 broadsides will find homes on the walls of English classrooms?

This broadside has to compete with all of the pseudo-inspirational "Achievement" and "Perseverance" posters of intimidating mountains and patriotically planted flags that tend to cover the walls of schools. I hope that it will catch eyes for its comparative simplicity. If it does its job, it will make teachers feel appreciated, and it will give students, particularly writers, something to think about.

Oak Knoll Bookstore Titles

Some interesting titles of books I found in the Oak Knoll Bookstore:

Anatomy of a Typeface, Lawson.
- Note: Mike already has this book. He has two.

Adventures in Editing, Towne.
- An older work by a man who describes his calling to and delight in editing.

Illustrated Library of Travel, Exploration, and Adventure: Central Asia, ed. Bayard Taylor.
- This one was quite old, with delicious tooling in the cracking leather cover.

Book & Folks, Teall. With chapter titles including:
- "Memoirs of an 'Omniverous Reader': Pre-college Years"
- "Memoirs of an 'Omniverous Reader': College & After"
- "His Majesty the Book"
- "A Little Weeding in the Garden of Books"
- " 'Style' "
- "Freedom in the Kingdom of Books"

The Bric a Brac Series: Personal Reminiscences by Constable & Gillies, ed. Stoddard.
- With the quote tooled in the cover "infinite riches in a little room"

A Snuff-boxful of Bibles, Wilbur Macey Stone.
- With pictures of snuff boxes fitting two small and two teensy Bibles.

Oak Knoll - Initial Response, Part II

Unfortunately, I did not end up with enough time to properly explore each display in the main room. One press of note is Warwick Press, headed by Carol J. Blinn, a good friend of Mike's.

In fact, Mike knew almost every person in attendance. This is only partly because Mike is a warm, genial guy who manages to befriend everyone he meets. It is a result of the attitude of the book and letterpress community. Most of the exhibitors attend this same festival annually, but more importantly, they all collaborate, exchange notes, visit each other's presses, attend workshops, and help each other start new programs. They are all in this together, and most are not there to turn a large profit. They just love to make books, print, and generally keep these traditional arts alive.

Warwick Press has a great collection of Duck books, like A Poultry Piece, which recounts Carol's memories of raising ducks and geese in her hometown in Massachusetts. She also publishes poetry and fiction, such as Smitty's Cocks, so named because it elegantly presents a collection of eight cuts of roosters.

Sherwin Beach Press had two books that caught my eye. Ballet for Opening Day tells the story of the 1919 'Black Sox' Scandal from a point of view sympathetic to the players (and critical of the owner). It has gorgeous 'baseball card' type etchings that are actually stitched into the paper with red thread. The red thread also runs in curves along the pages like the stitching in baseballs. Saving His Life by Lee Sandlin is the story of a Russian immigrant, who is actually the father of the author. The book has not been printed yet, but the prototype leather cover is supple and flexible, as it is not wrapped around chipboard or similar. It lies flat when you open it, and the proposed paper is soft but strong. The book will come not in a box but in a bag, a silk drawstring bag, which emphasizes that intimate, handle-me feel established with that welcoming leather cover. For some reason, the bag sells the book to me - or it would, if I could afford the listed $2k, that it is definitely worth.

Red Howler Press from Pennsylvania had books of energetic engravings by David Moyer, who has a knack for capturing the character of a face with the feel of a da Vinci sketch, except with more emphatic use of line and a more disturbing tone. On the sample card I took, a creased face stares up at me with uncertain wide eyes framed by large ears and wild, wispy hair. A large, exuberant hat rests its disk-shaped brim just above those ears. This one is from a book entitled Ratio et Vanitas.

The Press on Scroll Road from Carrollton, OH had a book by Edward Lear called Nonsense Cookery that was approximately two inches by three inches. It paired intricate etchings with nonsensical recipies.

And Ninja Press was notable primarily for its name, although I quite like Carolee Campbell's work as well.

Back in the University Press room, Josh Shenk, the Director of the Literary House had finished his extensive rounds and returned to man the table with Mike. I think Josh got a really good idea of how other presses, especially the University Presses, compare to ours. I know I did - I think for our size, we were well-represented.

Mike, Marian, and I headed back home just before 5:00 p.m., early, thanks to the Washington College Dining Hall's early weekend hours. It would not have been fun to miss dinner, although I was very sad to leave the exhibition. I left with a sense that I now have a real place in this community, that even if I don't pursue this art in graduate work (but I'm considering it), I "have ink under my fingernails," and I like it.

Oak Knoll - Initial Response, Part I

At 8:30 a.m. I stumbled out of my suite to meet Mike Kaylor and Marian, a fellow student in the Advanced Workshop, just outside, in Mike's truck. The cabin of said truck was crammed with boxes of poster tubes, John Barth books, and a massive poster display book. I managed to fit in the back seat with all the merchandise (barely), and after a brief stop for sustenance, we were on our way.

We reached New Castle, Delaware by 10 a.m., despite a detour in Frog, DE (mostly because it has a fun name). New Castle itself is a small river town that is very much like Chestertown in its obsession with brick, its historical buildings, and its steamy weather. The morning waffled between rain and sun, and instead left us with overcast skies and heady humidity.

After organizing our third of a display table in the basement of St Peter's, we meandered along the crumpled brick-paved sidewalks to the Oak Knoll Bookstore. The books occupy two of three floors in a brick row house [EDIT: As Shereen from Oak Knoll corrected me, it is "in the old Opera House created by the Masons," which explains the grand staircase. It's a unique building, the tallest in town. See Shereen's comment below for more about this building's history].

After poking around for more than an hour, Marian and I poked did not even reach the back of the first room. We tore ourselves away from the tooled and gilded bindings of typography manuals and murder mystery bibliographies with considerable reluctance.

At 12:00 p.m., the exhibition room was brimming with exhibitors and visitors, all cozied in beneath blocks of fluorescent lights. Marian and I manned the table first and fielded questions about the Print Shop and Press. Generally, our visitors, especially our fellow exhibitors, were thrilled to see college students with an active interest in letterpress.

At 2:00, The Book Guys interviewed Mike about the Literary House Print Shop and his interests in letterpress printing! The Book Guys is a radio show hosted by Allan Stypeck and Mike Cuthbert. In Maryland, it airs on WBJC-FM 91.5 on Sundays from 8:00-9:00 p.m. They had a table set up with all their mysterious equipment so they could record two hours worth of programming to cover the Oak Knoll Fest and the key players in the letterpress and book arts renaissance.

Thrillingly enough, Mike was kind enough to mention this blog in his interview! If he makes it on air, that's fantastic advertising - and it might even get to NPR. Keep your ears perked if you're an NPR listener...

Composing Stick Photos

The images are a little dark, but here they are to supplement your understanding of composing sticks, and the title of this blog. The one pictured here is smallish, but larger ones in the print shop are larger in length, not width or depth.

The type set in this first image is about 12 points, and says "wow," not "mom." Type is set upside down in a composing stick, but not backwards.


At this angle, you can see that another name for composing stick is "job stick."



This is derived from a type of press shop often called a "job shop" or "job press" that does mostly odd jobs, like broadsides, cards, pamphlets, and small books, for various clients. Jobs require a wide variety of type, whereas a press that publishes a newspaper or large books requires an awful lot of only a few different kinds of type. The print shop here at the college has type from both kinds of shops, so we have mountains of a few classics like Garamond, Palatino, and Caslon, in many sizes and styles, but only a handful of sizes and styles of hundreds of other fonts, as wild as Jokerman.

A Book of Magnitude

On Saturday, authors from all genres and categories gathered on the Mall in Washington, DC for the National Book Festival.

I'm a book nerd so I had to attend, especially since Terry Pratchett, one of my favorite authors, was going to speak and sign books.

The event was thrown by The Library of Congress (and Laura Bush), so they had a tent set up with plenty of relevant resources and interactive displays. A big graffiti wall stretched across a whole side of the tent and volunteers stood before it offering sharpies to the masses. Said masses were guided by three questions (here paraphrased): What books have influenced you or shaped your life? What would you preserve at the Library of Congress? What will you write?


Hundreds of adults and children have signed the wall. For the question pictured above, I scribbled "books about books" and "hand-bound art books," because I was in an artsy mood.

A display at the other side of the tent contained a large, naked book. Its leaves were poster-sized sheets of foam covered with sharpie signatures from visitors of all ages. One folded sheet made a signature, although normally a signature is made up of several folded sheets. The signatures are sewn together at the fold to form the pages of the book. Along the spine, white rope represented the thread used to sew each signature together. Thick brown rope formed bands around which the "thread" was sewn, creating raised bands that, were the book to be given a cover, would show up as the thick raised bands of leather on the spine. The leather on books with that feature is actually fitted over the thicker thread that the thick rope represents.

Here you can see the scale of the book:


Here you can better see the stitching:


The top three signatures are not sewn into the rest of the book, yet.

The Library of Congress lugs this book around for demonstrations about books and book binding. It's nice to know that they save some of their attention for the restoration and preservation of books as well as the digitization of them.