May we get personal for a moment?
We were doing research on our own presses, planning to work blurbs about them into our history lessons, and we discovered that our little friends have been holding back some good stories from us. Our presses have fascinating histories of their own – fascinating enough, in fact, that we think they deserve more than blurbs. We think they need their own article. So, given that, here are the life stories of the Chandler & Price New Series and the Heidelberg Windmill, as told to us over glasses of wine and axle grease in the wee hours of Gilah.
May we introduce you to the Chandler & Price New Series.
Harrison T. Chandler and William H. Price essentially got their start copying earlier designs from a press called the Franklin Jobber, which was the brainchild of one George Gordon.
Gordon was one of the first people to release a jobbing press after the Card & Billhead press (first-ever jobber, 1851) arrived on the scene. The Card & Billhead was an inspiration to many inventors, and Gordon was among those who tried their hands at one-upping it. His first effort was called the Alligator, which was rather apt given the press' tendency to snap shut on the fingers of its operator. It did not catch on.
The Alligator was followed by several moderately-successful designs, then in 1854 Gordon struck gold. His Franklin press, named after his hero Ben, was a huge hit.
Gordon took out over 50 patents on various components of his press between 1850 and 1875. As the patents started expiring towards the end of the century, other manufacturers started releasing presses modeled after the successful Franklin. Chandler & Price, founded in Ohio in 1881, was one of those manufacturers.
The New Series press, which was a sturdier and more user-friendly improvement on their original model, was impressive enough that by 1930 about 90% of presses operating in the U.S. were manufactured by Chandler & Price.
As offset lithography started butting into jobbing press' territory, entering the field of small runs and cards and the like, Chandler & Price fell out of relevance, and their last New Series platen press was manufactured in 1964.
Now we'd like you to meet one of our other presses, the Heidelberg Windmill.
Andreas Hamm started his company in Heidelberg, Germany in 1850 to make engines. In 1856 he met up with a man named Andreas Albert, who was something of an expert in letterpress manufacturing, and the two put their heads together and came up with some reasonable and moderately-successful designs. Albert ended up leaving the company in 1873 and the two became competitors, which undoubtedly led to a lifetime of regret on Albert's part.
In 1912 a man named Karl Georg Ferdinand Gilke came on board and invented what would become the trademark of the Heidelberg company: the rotating feeder arm.
The arm rotates in quarter turns. First it picks up a sheet of paper with little vacuum suckers, then it continues holding on while the platen presses the paper against the text, then it drops the printed paper off on a receiving tray. The fact that the arm is double-sided means an instant doubling of sheets per hour, because as one page is being removed another is already being inserted.
The Heidelberg Original, featuring this iconic rotating arm, was released in 1913, and it was such a runaway success that in 1924 Hamm created the first-ever press factory assembly line, which completed 100 new presses every month.
One major factor in the success of the Heidelberg press was the creative marketing of the new management board director, Hubert H.A. Sternberg. Sternberg mounted one of the presses to a car and drove around the continent, visiting print shops and giving live demos. He would pull into a shop's driveway and print their own work right then and there, proving the superior efficiency of his product to anyone who cared to watch.
During WWII the shop cut back on its press manufacturing and started also producing metal lathes and hydraulic devices, so that the government wouldn’t have any excuse to draft its skilled workers – if they're already contributing by making war-necessary products, you don’t have to drag them away to battle, right? In this way the company managed to retain most of its trained workers through the war.
Once the war ended the Heidelberg company started up where it had left off, doing major business internationally and continuing to innovate. In 1957 they opened the largest printing press factory in the world in the town of Weisloch (near Heidelberg). They started producing offset presses in 1962, but unlike most press companies, they continued making their platen machines as well.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
The History of Letterpress, Part 2
Gutenberg's press design was pretty much unchanged from the 15th century until 1800. Our old friend here:
…kept that up for a good three hundred years, until a man named Earl Stanhope made three significant improvements that made our pressman friend's life much easier.
First, he built his press entirely out of iron, which made it much stronger and allowed for larger images. Second, he invented a series of clever levers that reduced the pressman's efforts by about 90%, allowing him to work faster and more efficiently. Third, he added a moving carriage—so instead of raising the platen (the surface that presses the paper onto the type, i.e. the top piece of sandwich bread) high enough to ink the type every time, he only needed to raise it an inch or so and the type bed would slide out from under it for inking.
Taken together, these improvements increased the speed of the printing press fourfold, to 480 pages per hour.
But the real innovation was to arrive several years later, when Freidrich Kroenig invented the first automated press, powered by steam.
He'd spent a decade of his life trying to put together a mechanized printing press, and the final concoction was not only the first press powered by steam, it was also the first to use a cylindrical platen–so instead of being impressed by a flat surface coming down all at once, the type bed went under a roller that would press the paper down an inch at a time.
Nobody in Kroenig's native Germany wanted to buy one of the presses; they were too weird. He tried instead in England, and found his first customer in the London Times. Once all the kinks got worked out, and Kroenig added a new invention called a "perfecting machine" that allowed for both sides of the paper to be printed at once, the steamy press was churning out over 2,000 pages per hour. Stanhope's 480, which had been a major breakthrough only a decade earlier, suddenly looked sad, and his press became obsolete.
Many historians credit Kroenig's invention with the spread of newspapers, and with an increase in literacy generally.
But meanwhile, in America! A Bostonian named Daniel Treadwell had seen Kroenig's steam-powered press and was not impressed with its impressions. Kroenig's press did have its drawbacks: its prints tended to be sloppy, with blurred text, and it was extremely difficult to register accurately. Treadwell saw that old-fashioned platen machines produced better work, and he sought to make a mechanical version that used the same basic principle (no cylinders here, thanks), but would be powered by steam and would be fast enough for industrial applications.
In 1824 he unveiled the "Bed and Platen" press. It was somewhat slower than Kroenig's machine, and it took three people to run, but it produced much finer work making it suitable for fine book editions (i.e. lots and lots of Bibles).
Treadwell's press could be rigged to run off of steam, waterwheel, or horse-whim. If your press was horse-driven, though, you would have a problem because at the moment when the platen actually pressed into the paper the horse would get a sudden lurch. As a result, you would need to employ a horse-restarter to kickstart the animal once per cycle, as it would usually stop walking at this point.
Treadwell's presses, and others modeled off his, had a good run in America (they never really made it across the Atlantic), but by the 1880s improvements to cylinder presses like Kroenig's made the bed-and-platen obsolete. Once the cylinder press, which had always been faster, dealt with its sloppiness problems, Treadwells fell out of favor–except, oddly, with one stalewart Bible maker in Tennessee who owned twelve Treadwells and refused to give them up until finally he was forced out of business around the turn of the century. The rest of humanity, though, moved on. [Correction by Doug Charles: The Bible printer may have been using the famous "descendant" of the Treadwell, the Adams press. It is most unlikely—verging on impossible—that any examples of the wooden-framed Treadwell would have survived so long. On the other hand, his ownership of Adams presses would not have been so unusual, as many were running after the beginning of the 20th century.]
In other innovations:
In 1857 Richard M. Hoe invented a rotary press that could print on rolls of paper, removing the need to feed individual sheets and greatly speeding up the process.
The linotype machine was invented in 1887. It allowed an operator to type an entire line of text that would then be cast as a single piece of metal, removing the need to reset individual letters. It was mainly used for newspapers, which had to be printed fast. The main drawback, clearly, was that if the operator made one mistake, the whole line would have to be recast.
The monotype machine, also from 1887, was similar to the linotype machine except that when it cast the letters they weren't actually attached to one another. This way a single letter could be replaced without having to redo an entire line.
So if Kroenig, Treadwell, and Hoe were the godfathers of modern industrial printing, Stephen P. Ruggles was the spiritual ancestor of today's small press movement. As he himself unambiguously put it, "In 1830 or 1831, I invented and built, in New York, the first card or job press, I believe, ever constructed in any part of the world."
A job press is a press designed specifically for the printing of small items, such as cards, billheads, envelopes, and stationery. While Ruggles claims to have built his first "jobber"–as the presses came to be called–in 1830, his design wasn't patented or put into use until 1851. It was called the "Card & Billhead" press, and it's the basic design of all the platen presses being used by craft shops today.
The Card & Billhead was run by a foot-treadle and required just one operator. Unlike larger industrial presses, it had a fast setup time, and it was actually remarkably efficient–a practiced pressman could turn out over 1,000 pages per hour without needing a steam engine or a horse.
Incidentally, Ruggles was also the inventor of a machine that produced Braille Bibles for the blind.
The descendants of Ruggles' press are the platen presses mainly used by craft pressmen working today.
In our next installment, we'll look at the very first movement to refer to itself as the "Private Press Movement," which arose in opposition to the mechanical fist of the Industrial Revolution.
…kept that up for a good three hundred years, until a man named Earl Stanhope made three significant improvements that made our pressman friend's life much easier.
First, he built his press entirely out of iron, which made it much stronger and allowed for larger images. Second, he invented a series of clever levers that reduced the pressman's efforts by about 90%, allowing him to work faster and more efficiently. Third, he added a moving carriage—so instead of raising the platen (the surface that presses the paper onto the type, i.e. the top piece of sandwich bread) high enough to ink the type every time, he only needed to raise it an inch or so and the type bed would slide out from under it for inking.
Taken together, these improvements increased the speed of the printing press fourfold, to 480 pages per hour.
But the real innovation was to arrive several years later, when Freidrich Kroenig invented the first automated press, powered by steam.
He'd spent a decade of his life trying to put together a mechanized printing press, and the final concoction was not only the first press powered by steam, it was also the first to use a cylindrical platen–so instead of being impressed by a flat surface coming down all at once, the type bed went under a roller that would press the paper down an inch at a time.
Nobody in Kroenig's native Germany wanted to buy one of the presses; they were too weird. He tried instead in England, and found his first customer in the London Times. Once all the kinks got worked out, and Kroenig added a new invention called a "perfecting machine" that allowed for both sides of the paper to be printed at once, the steamy press was churning out over 2,000 pages per hour. Stanhope's 480, which had been a major breakthrough only a decade earlier, suddenly looked sad, and his press became obsolete.
Many historians credit Kroenig's invention with the spread of newspapers, and with an increase in literacy generally.
But meanwhile, in America! A Bostonian named Daniel Treadwell had seen Kroenig's steam-powered press and was not impressed with its impressions. Kroenig's press did have its drawbacks: its prints tended to be sloppy, with blurred text, and it was extremely difficult to register accurately. Treadwell saw that old-fashioned platen machines produced better work, and he sought to make a mechanical version that used the same basic principle (no cylinders here, thanks), but would be powered by steam and would be fast enough for industrial applications.
In 1824 he unveiled the "Bed and Platen" press. It was somewhat slower than Kroenig's machine, and it took three people to run, but it produced much finer work making it suitable for fine book editions (i.e. lots and lots of Bibles).
Treadwell's press could be rigged to run off of steam, waterwheel, or horse-whim. If your press was horse-driven, though, you would have a problem because at the moment when the platen actually pressed into the paper the horse would get a sudden lurch. As a result, you would need to employ a horse-restarter to kickstart the animal once per cycle, as it would usually stop walking at this point.
Treadwell's presses, and others modeled off his, had a good run in America (they never really made it across the Atlantic), but by the 1880s improvements to cylinder presses like Kroenig's made the bed-and-platen obsolete. Once the cylinder press, which had always been faster, dealt with its sloppiness problems, Treadwells fell out of favor–
In other innovations:
In 1857 Richard M. Hoe invented a rotary press that could print on rolls of paper, removing the need to feed individual sheets and greatly speeding up the process.
The linotype machine was invented in 1887. It allowed an operator to type an entire line of text that would then be cast as a single piece of metal, removing the need to reset individual letters. It was mainly used for newspapers, which had to be printed fast. The main drawback, clearly, was that if the operator made one mistake, the whole line would have to be recast.
The monotype machine, also from 1887, was similar to the linotype machine except that when it cast the letters they weren't actually attached to one another. This way a single letter could be replaced without having to redo an entire line.
So if Kroenig, Treadwell, and Hoe were the godfathers of modern industrial printing, Stephen P. Ruggles was the spiritual ancestor of today's small press movement. As he himself unambiguously put it, "In 1830 or 1831, I invented and built, in New York, the first card or job press, I believe, ever constructed in any part of the world."
A job press is a press designed specifically for the printing of small items, such as cards, billheads, envelopes, and stationery. While Ruggles claims to have built his first "jobber"–as the presses came to be called–in 1830, his design wasn't patented or put into use until 1851. It was called the "Card & Billhead" press, and it's the basic design of all the platen presses being used by craft shops today.
The Card & Billhead was run by a foot-treadle and required just one operator. Unlike larger industrial presses, it had a fast setup time, and it was actually remarkably efficient–a practiced pressman could turn out over 1,000 pages per hour without needing a steam engine or a horse.
Incidentally, Ruggles was also the inventor of a machine that produced Braille Bibles for the blind.
The descendants of Ruggles' press are the platen presses mainly used by craft pressmen working today.
In our next installment, we'll look at the very first movement to refer to itself as the "Private Press Movement," which arose in opposition to the mechanical fist of the Industrial Revolution.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Welcome to the Team, Allison
Photo by Ellen Culpepper
We'd like to welcome Allison Fisher to the Gilah Press + Design team! Allison just graduated from the Maryland Institute College of Art with a BFA in graphic design. She played a big part in MICA's Friends of Globe organization where she helped secure a permanent home for Globe Printing's collection at MICA (more info here).
After learning and printing alongside Kat and Erin for the past couple weeks, Allison has made it obvious that she is the perfect addition to the Gilah gang. Yay, Allison!
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
The History of Letterpress, a Series
This is a guest post from Alexis, a friend of Gilah Press + Design. Thanks, Alexis!
I'm going to tell you the history of letterpress printing, slowly, one article every two weeks. I'm going to start with Gutenberg, who didn't invent the letterpress but did invent the movable type that makes the process possible.
Johannes Gutenberg invented movable type around 1440 in Mainz, Germany. He also invented a press based on the wine presses of his time, with a large screw that had to be turned manually by this guy:
While this seems stupid time-consuming by today's standards, it was a huge improvement over the hand-lettering that had been the standard earlier.
Not surprisingly, the first book that Gutenberg printed was a Bible. It had blank spaces for large letters, decoration, and illustration, which customers could have added in by artists after purchase. No one knows exactly how many were made, but only 21 survive today, and they're generally considered to be the most valuable books in the world – no one knows for sure, though, because none have changed hands since 1978. This is the New York Public Library's Gutenberg Bible, the first to be brought to the United States:
The rapid spread of Gutenberg's design was actually due to a legal mishap: one of his investors managed to successfully sue him and he lost the rights to his invention. The investor let the schematic secrets out, and Europe started casting letters and building presses like crazy. By 1500 – about 50 years after Gutenberg printed his first Bible – there were over 1,000 presses that had printed over 8 million books.
Gutenberg's timing would turn out to be impeccable. He invented this tool for the rapid dissemination of information right before Europeans started opening major trade routes with the East and the Americas. Missionaries enthusiastically adopted the new technology and would print Bibles on board ships bound for America, then when they arrived they would be armed and ready for their holy takeovers. The first press to begin running outside of Europe was set up in Mexico City in 1544, and was used by missionaries to facilitate the distribution of holy literature.
(This is a random 17th-century illustration of Europeans arriving in America; note the meal preparation in the lower left.)
Some people weren't as pumped for the press as the Europeans. It was completely banned in the Ottoman Empire until the mid-1700s, on penalty of death. Two reasons: Muslim legal scholars weren't sure that the process was in accordance with Islamic law, and manuscript scribes had a lot of influence. European scribes had also tried to battle the spread of the press, but had less power and thus less success.
Ottoman rulers who found printing presses made this face:
Next time: the invention of the automated letterpress during the Industrial Revolution!
I'm going to tell you the history of letterpress printing, slowly, one article every two weeks. I'm going to start with Gutenberg, who didn't invent the letterpress but did invent the movable type that makes the process possible.
Johannes Gutenberg invented movable type around 1440 in Mainz, Germany. He also invented a press based on the wine presses of his time, with a large screw that had to be turned manually by this guy:
While this seems stupid time-consuming by today's standards, it was a huge improvement over the hand-lettering that had been the standard earlier.
Not surprisingly, the first book that Gutenberg printed was a Bible. It had blank spaces for large letters, decoration, and illustration, which customers could have added in by artists after purchase. No one knows exactly how many were made, but only 21 survive today, and they're generally considered to be the most valuable books in the world – no one knows for sure, though, because none have changed hands since 1978. This is the New York Public Library's Gutenberg Bible, the first to be brought to the United States:
The rapid spread of Gutenberg's design was actually due to a legal mishap: one of his investors managed to successfully sue him and he lost the rights to his invention. The investor let the schematic secrets out, and Europe started casting letters and building presses like crazy. By 1500 – about 50 years after Gutenberg printed his first Bible – there were over 1,000 presses that had printed over 8 million books.
Gutenberg's timing would turn out to be impeccable. He invented this tool for the rapid dissemination of information right before Europeans started opening major trade routes with the East and the Americas. Missionaries enthusiastically adopted the new technology and would print Bibles on board ships bound for America, then when they arrived they would be armed and ready for their holy takeovers. The first press to begin running outside of Europe was set up in Mexico City in 1544, and was used by missionaries to facilitate the distribution of holy literature.
(This is a random 17th-century illustration of Europeans arriving in America; note the meal preparation in the lower left.)
Some people weren't as pumped for the press as the Europeans. It was completely banned in the Ottoman Empire until the mid-1700s, on penalty of death. Two reasons: Muslim legal scholars weren't sure that the process was in accordance with Islamic law, and manuscript scribes had a lot of influence. European scribes had also tried to battle the spread of the press, but had less power and thus less success.
Ottoman rulers who found printing presses made this face:
Next time: the invention of the automated letterpress during the Industrial Revolution!
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
trying our hand at handkerchief printing
A couple months ago we had some fun printing on handkerchiefs sent to us by a client for a surprise party invitation. We've only ever printed on fabric twice before for our "ten postcards" line, so we thought it might be a bit of a struggle.
In the end it turned out to be time-consuming, yet manageable. The easiest part about printing on the handkerchiefs was that they were all the same size, but it was a very custom job. Whitney, our senior letterpress printer, said, "We didn't turn the press on once." She worked together with Erin (Whitney's printing partner-in-crime) hand-cranking the press for each impression to make sure every print turned out perfectly.
The end result was stunning, and because of the girls' amazing patience, not one of the handkerchiefs were lost due to messy printing. We've since taken on another job that required printing on handkerchiefs.
If you're not sure if something can be letterpress printed, just shoot us an email (info@gilahpress.com) and we'll let you know if we can do it. We're more than happy to take on any and all challenges, so bring it on!
Friday, June 10, 2011
Father's Day Greeting Ideas
When's the last time you contacted your dad? It's been that long, huh? Well, why don't you surprise him this Father's Day (coming up Sunday, June 19th) with a handwritten note straight from the heart?
Here are a couple Father's Day card suggestions from our own letterpress printed greeting lines that would work perfectly for your sweet message. To purchase the card, just click the image!
Two colors on 100% cotton paper. Measures 4.875” x 3.5” and comes with a gravel colored envelope.
One color on 100% cotton paper. Measures 5.5" square and comes with bright red envelope.
Two colors on handmade seed paper that grows wildflowers when planted! Measures 4.25” x 6” and comes with a khaki colored envelope.
Two colors on 100% cotton paper. Measures 6.25” x 3.5” and comes with a white envelope.
And for those stylish dads:
Both of the above: Two colors on 100% cotton paper. Measures 3.5" x 6.25" and comes with a gray envelope.
You could even consider sending him one of these manly postcards:
Two colors on 100% cotton paper. Eight cards per pack, two of each design. Measures 4.5″ × 6.25″ and comes wrapped in a belly band.
Whatever you do, just don't forget!
Here are a couple Father's Day card suggestions from our own letterpress printed greeting lines that would work perfectly for your sweet message. To purchase the card, just click the image!
Two colors on 100% cotton paper. Measures 4.875” x 3.5” and comes with a gravel colored envelope.
One color on 100% cotton paper. Measures 5.5" square and comes with bright red envelope.
Two colors on handmade seed paper that grows wildflowers when planted! Measures 4.25” x 6” and comes with a khaki colored envelope.
Two colors on 100% cotton paper. Measures 6.25” x 3.5” and comes with a white envelope.
And for those stylish dads:
Both of the above: Two colors on 100% cotton paper. Measures 3.5" x 6.25" and comes with a gray envelope.
You could even consider sending him one of these manly postcards:
Two colors on 100% cotton paper. Eight cards per pack, two of each design. Measures 4.5″ × 6.25″ and comes wrapped in a belly band.
Whatever you do, just don't forget!
Friday, June 3, 2011
New/Old Machinery Calls Gilah Home
Before the Stationery Show we obtained a new Chandler and Price press! Unfortunately we weren't able to get an old press out of our hair in time, so with the help of some friends the old press was moved to another place in the studio to make way for the new one.
Chris, Jessica's boyfriend, was up on the truck getting the new press secure enough to be rolled into our studio...
...while we all stared and worried ourselves to death (from left to right: Jessica, Erin and Whitney). Was the truck's bed close enough to the door? Would the press fall over? Would it go as smoothly as we were hoping?! Only time would tell.
After what seemed like an eternity, the new press was finally rolled into place. Quite easily, at that. Yay!
Just a couple weeks later, Jessica and Chris purchased a retro General Electric fridge from a local antique shop. Jess and Chris didn't have the ability to bring it into their current apartment, so we decided to let the fridge live at our studio for now.
We were really excited about the built-in wine rack and the fact that all the shelves turn outward and all the way around!
There's nothing quite like gorgeous new/old machinery to brighten our day.
Chris, Jessica's boyfriend, was up on the truck getting the new press secure enough to be rolled into our studio...
...while we all stared and worried ourselves to death (from left to right: Jessica, Erin and Whitney). Was the truck's bed close enough to the door? Would the press fall over? Would it go as smoothly as we were hoping?! Only time would tell.
After what seemed like an eternity, the new press was finally rolled into place. Quite easily, at that. Yay!
Just a couple weeks later, Jessica and Chris purchased a retro General Electric fridge from a local antique shop. Jess and Chris didn't have the ability to bring it into their current apartment, so we decided to let the fridge live at our studio for now.
We were really excited about the built-in wine rack and the fact that all the shelves turn outward and all the way around!
There's nothing quite like gorgeous new/old machinery to brighten our day.
Friday, May 20, 2011
National Stationery Show 2011
Phew! We just got back from the whirlwind that is the stationery show. It was our 6th year and, as usual, we had a great time. Our set up on Friday night took quite a bit longer than expected, but it all came together in the end.
This is the disaster zone our studio turns into every year when we get ready:
Here we are during one of our late-night assembly parties:
And a couple more shots of the booth in New York:
We were pleased to come back from the National Stationery Show to quite a bit of online press! Here are some of the sites we've written for or have been featured on, not to mention all the Twitter mentions we got:
- Fantabulously Frugal Weddings
- Martha Stewart Weddings: The Bride's Guide
- Design*Sponge
- HOW Design
- The Present Perfect
Monday, April 18, 2011
Birthday Party for Pica
Okay, so we didn't actually throw a party for our studio cat Pica, but it looks like we could have. The amazing folks over at Blow Up! posted photos of a birthday party they threw for their own cat, Mr. Humperdink, who happens to look just like Pica! So cute. Check out the rest of the photos here.
Below: The real Pica is on the right.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Hatch Show Print Visits Baltimore
This is a guest post from Alexis, a friend of Gilah Press + Design. Thanks, Alexis!
Gilah Press recently took an educational field trip to a lecture by Jim Sheradden of Hatch Show Print, the legendary Tennessee letterpress shop whose posters have influenced a generation of graphic designers even if they don't know it.
Sheradden's visit was timed to correspond with the official public announcement of MICA's Globe purchase, and hundreds of letterpress enthusiasts showed up to learn and to celebrate. Sheradden, for his part, arrived confident, goateed, and vaguely un-PC, and explained the history of his shop with affectionate zeal.
Sheradden began working for Hatch after his dream of becoming a songwriter had quietly deposited him in Tennessee, jobless. The shop had already been in continuous operation since 1879, and when Sheradden arrived it was in danger of going under due to the advent of faster, cheaper printing methods. What Sheradden realized was that letterpress' historical interest and homespun appeal could be combined with contemporary technology to make a new business model, and rather than trying to update the shop, he chose to celebrate its oldness.
These days, a lot of Hatch's revenue is produced not from the physical prints themselves, but from the scanned images of them. Usually, the shop will receive a commission from someone music-industry affiliated (sometimes a venue, sometimes an agent, sometimes a merch company) and produce a small run of posters which are then sent off to be scanned and reproduced using the modern methods. The hand-printed posters are sold as collectors' items, and the shop also receives payment for the right to copy its images onto t-shirts and mass-produced advertisements. Everybody wins.
What was really interesting was hearing Sheradden talk about how he sees his shop – he doesn’t really see it as "his" shop at all. He calls himself the "steward" of the Hatch collection, and says that he feels a responsibility to the heritage of the shop. For this reason, he's never added any type to the collection, though his employees do still produce original linoleum cuts for some prints. The phrase he kept repeating, his favorite soundbite I suppose, was "preservation through production." He also kept referring to the shop as a "working museum."
Hatch's aesthetic has become so tied to the visual history of country music and rock and roll that most people simply take the look for granted without realizing where it came from. As Sheradden's introducer (a novelist whose name I wish I could remember) put it, "Hatch has put an idea in the reptile brain of designers of what a poster should look like." That horrifying digital font that's supposed to look like old wood type? Nobody ever would have bothered inventing that if Hatch hadn't made hand-done cool.
Gilah Press recently took an educational field trip to a lecture by Jim Sheradden of Hatch Show Print, the legendary Tennessee letterpress shop whose posters have influenced a generation of graphic designers even if they don't know it.
Sheradden's visit was timed to correspond with the official public announcement of MICA's Globe purchase, and hundreds of letterpress enthusiasts showed up to learn and to celebrate. Sheradden, for his part, arrived confident, goateed, and vaguely un-PC, and explained the history of his shop with affectionate zeal.
Sheradden began working for Hatch after his dream of becoming a songwriter had quietly deposited him in Tennessee, jobless. The shop had already been in continuous operation since 1879, and when Sheradden arrived it was in danger of going under due to the advent of faster, cheaper printing methods. What Sheradden realized was that letterpress' historical interest and homespun appeal could be combined with contemporary technology to make a new business model, and rather than trying to update the shop, he chose to celebrate its oldness.
These days, a lot of Hatch's revenue is produced not from the physical prints themselves, but from the scanned images of them. Usually, the shop will receive a commission from someone music-industry affiliated (sometimes a venue, sometimes an agent, sometimes a merch company) and produce a small run of posters which are then sent off to be scanned and reproduced using the modern methods. The hand-printed posters are sold as collectors' items, and the shop also receives payment for the right to copy its images onto t-shirts and mass-produced advertisements. Everybody wins.
What was really interesting was hearing Sheradden talk about how he sees his shop – he doesn’t really see it as "his" shop at all. He calls himself the "steward" of the Hatch collection, and says that he feels a responsibility to the heritage of the shop. For this reason, he's never added any type to the collection, though his employees do still produce original linoleum cuts for some prints. The phrase he kept repeating, his favorite soundbite I suppose, was "preservation through production." He also kept referring to the shop as a "working museum."
Hatch's aesthetic has become so tied to the visual history of country music and rock and roll that most people simply take the look for granted without realizing where it came from. As Sheradden's introducer (a novelist whose name I wish I could remember) put it, "Hatch has put an idea in the reptile brain of designers of what a poster should look like." That horrifying digital font that's supposed to look like old wood type? Nobody ever would have bothered inventing that if Hatch hadn't made hand-done cool.
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