Graham Moss : Memento Mori : Memento Vivere

Some months ago I discovered Incline Press, a fine press publisher in the UK, and its founder Graham Moss, who found his way to printing through the same Adana press that I did:

Spine labels are the unlikely start point for what is probably the finest maker of books in Britain. Graham Moss’ background in teaching History led to paper conservation, turning in to a book repair business. Understanding how a book comes together meant a short step to binding, and binding needs those tiny printed slips — labels, book-plated, binders’ tickets. Graham got hold of a small Adana press in 1990 to print these components of the books he bound and repaired.

Later joined by librarian Kathy Whalen, Incline Press grew to become an estimable printer and publisher of lovely editions.

The press attracted my attention when I read, in a late 2024 blog post, of its plan to move to Scotland:

Incline Press has been working for the last 30 years in Oldham, England; and housed in a former cotton mill in Bow Street since 2001. We now have an opportunity to live the dream and move to beautiful, rural Scotland.  As well as printing, we will be able to develop a practice teaching the whole craft of book making, and open a seasonal gallery space which the current building cannot accommodate. But we need help to make it happen.

Having some experience with the challenges of moving printing presses, I felt a kinship. 

I felt even more kinship when I learned of the book that Graham crafted, following Kathryn’s death in 2020, Memento Mori : Memento Vivere. 

It is a heart-livening memorial-in-print, stunning in its detail and craftsmanship:

I was so moved by it that, in mid-May, I sent Graham an email:

Hello Graham,

We don’t know each other; I’m a printer in Prince Edward Island, Canada. I came across your Instagram, and then followed that to your website.

You and I, it turns out, are members of a very small club, that of letterpress printers whose longtime partners died from metastatic breast cancer in early 2020, who subsequently published a book in memoriam.

In my case, my late partner Catherine, a textile artist, died in January 2020 after living with cancer for 6 years. The next year I published Using Her Marbles, a chronology of her illness and death that had started as a series of email updates to friends and family.

I am in awe, in this light, of your Memento Mori : Memento Vivere, perhaps because I can imagine some of the topsy-turvyness that led you to create it.

This email is simply a tip of the hat your way, a small act of solidarity.

Peter

PS: Having now moved my behemoth Golding Jobber No. 8 twice in 14 years, at great expense, complexity, and with several unintended acts of damage to property, I also share not inconsiderable awe at the logistics of your recent move. 

I never received a reply from Graham. 

Today, in an Instagram post, sadly, I learned why:

Graham died today at 12.30pm in Dumfries hospital.  Kidney cancer, out of the blue. This photo is only 6 weeks ago.

No regrets, he said.

Memento Mori : Memento Vivere.