For five glorious Tuesdays in the summer of 2011 I walked from our apartment on Graefestrasse and walked through Kreuzberg to Druckwerkstatt where I would design, set, and print something.
I would arrive in the print shop with an empty mind and a blank canvas, and emerge, 6 or 7 hours later, with a thing. It the annals of my creativity it was a summer to bookmark.
I woke up this morning to an email from a friend that was so full of light that some of it spilled over into me. And it is Tuesday. So I rousted myself up earlier than has been my pandemic habit, and got to the print shop by 9:30 a.m. With a blank canvas.
As I stood in front of the type cabinet, wondering what to do, I looked over at a collection of bits and bobs yet to be sorted and saw T, Y, and R, three wood letters that were a gift last summer from my friend Martin.
T Y R.
T R Y.
Go!
I squirted a squirt of yellow ink onto the platen, such a pleasure, as it’s an intense yellow, the kind of yellow that you could live inside if you had to:
I flipped the motor on the letterpress on and let the rollers quietly do their work turning the squirt into a sheen:
While this was happening, I took some letter-sized card stock and cut down each sheet into four to make postcard-sized cards:
And when that was done, I set the type; not hard to do with just three letters:
I mounted the chase in the press, put in a piece of scrap paper, and made my first TRY:
This is always the most uncomfortable time of the printing process for me: imperfection. The T and R are too close together. The T and the Y are heavier than the R. And there’s not enough ink. This purgatory makes me nervous, and I set quickly to work to get closer to heaven through the makeready.
First, I buttressed the R with a rectangle of tissue paper taped underneath:
I added a shim between the T and the R to add some air, added a squidge more yellow ink, and added some additional packing to get a more satisfying print. The evolution was more satisfying:
Even more so on a postcard:
It’s hard to shoot video and to print at the same time while also staying safe, but here’s a glimpse at what printing a TRY looks like:
I was ready to print in earnest!
I zeroed the counter:
And I printed. When I was done I had 50 TRYs to dry:
Would you like a TRY? Email me your name and postal address and I’ll put one in the mail as soon as they’re dry.
Comments
TRY to stay well, my friend.
TRY to stay well, my friend.
I love when you write about
I love when you write about your printing processes. I find it fascinating.
I’m calling that yellow
I’m calling that yellow “ochre” but you win for poetry
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