Saturday, May 8, 2010

Oh how receding hairlines would be so Vogue


     One nice thing about running a linecaster, or in this case my Intertype, is that you have a boundless supply of type to print with, limited only by your ability to spell and typemetal on hand.   With that however, is the need for the mats to be in reasonably civil shape.   Old mats get beat up on the sides and eventually this gets into the casting cavity, causing metal to go where it oughtn't and creating what are called (and look like) hairlines.  

      Now there are a lot of reasons why hairlines appear, but it usually is a terminal condition that can only be cured (at present) by finding a font of mats in better shape and treating them very nice.   The best way to treat hairlines is to not let them get started in a font, and that requires taking care of spacebands and making sure that the vise on the first elevator is in tip top shape.  Also, and this might pain you, but if you see a dented or dud spaceband in the box---out it goes--don't wait a minute.

     What gets frustrating is that all of these things are made of unobtainium.   Now, I think it is possible to make new spacebands--and there are plenty out there still in good shape, but nobody has quite figured out how to cut new matrices--yet.   Hoping they hurry up, or it may well wind up as one of my future projects.

     I'll put a scan of the job that brought this essay about, but my scanner can't do the hairlines justice.  Now whether others might just say that such artifacts are quaint (just like beat up wood type is considered rustic) has yet to be seen, though it would be handy. (click on image to see enlargement and pick out hair lines in "Show and Swap Meet"

     For those curious, SEPTEMBER is 14pt Vogue Med Condensed, the 19 is 6 line (1 inch) wood type, the rest of the form is 14pt Futura Medium with "Show and Swap Meet" in 18pt Vogue Medium.    The paper is actually a die-cut window from another project (1000's of 'em, waste not!).  Overall size is 1 3/4" x 4"   Will have to talk about those die-cuts later.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Not Tripping over the Perfect Machine

    Perusing the equipment listings on Ebay and thinking: "Everybody want's that "perfect" press, the one that has easy impression, runs smooth and always keeps whatever settings you set it for.  Sort of a set up job, especially for somebody new to letterpress. This is because there is no perfect letterpress--not even the vaunted Vandercook's or Heidelberg cylinders. Do they do good work? Oh yes they do, but you pay for them far differently than some tired old C&P found in a barn....and we're not talking the cash you paid for it either.  


    The more precise the machine, the greater need to maintain it, the more refined materials need to run it and the more often you have to run it. Yes, the nicer the machine, the more you have to run it. Take a Heidelberg cylinder and run it once a year and you'll be spending a lot more time getting it going than you would were it a C&P that you've run once a year. The same will go for an Intertype against a Ludlow.

    Does that mean you shouldn't get the Heidelberg Cylinder, or Intertype? No, but you should look at how much work you have when you reach your printing goals and figure out if you really need that "perfect" machine.

   The "perfect" machine quest can also be a grand excercise in being afraid to really get down to work and put yourself out there.  Yeah, doing your own business is scary as all get out, but here I am and there I go.   I really can't use my machinery as a crutch for what I do or don't do, because they're not doing the work--I am!

Ok, A Little Closer to Topic

    Well, I guess I ought to get to the meat of this thing, and that's printing, or rather selling printing, or the real gist, getting people to buy my printing.  If you're reading this, it's probably because I've finally put word out that this blog exists.   So, the Internet is very much like the tree falling in the forest:  if you can't find the tree, you won't know it fell, and will never know what sound it did, or didn't make.