Showing posts with label Prints and Printmaking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prints and Printmaking. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

Got Religion?

Get yours at the Church of Type in Santa Monica. Some great work goin' on there by owner, printer, illustrator, typographer, Kevin Bradley; formerly of Yee-Haw Industries in Tennesee. I'm guessing the racoon cap designates Bradley as an ordained fundamentalist printer in LAs only Church of Type. 
::Thanks Steve, for passing the good word along!

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

The 19th Century Book Plates of D.M. Dewey



Title page for one of D.M. Dewey's specimen books.





Dellon Marcus Dewey (1819-1889) was a bookseller, publisher and art patron in Rochester, NY before he became one of the 19th century's most enterprising businessmen, printing and selling colorfully stenciled book plates of botanical illustrations "for the practical use of nurserymen, in selling their stock." He employed teams of immigrant artists and colorists in the mid-1850s to paint and stencil several thousand botanical plates of various ornamentals, trees, shrubs, fruits and vegetables. By 1859, Dewey's price list contained some 275 different plates. Once completed, the colorful book plates were assembled into handsome octavo catalogs and portfolios customized for the traveling salesmen known as "plant peddlers" of the floral and nursery trade. Dewey was not the first to devise this practice of providing botanical illustrations to sell seeds and plants, but he was the first to expand the process by relying on the time-honored stencil production process which came to be known as "theorem paintings." Prior to the development of chromolithography, this multi-layered stencil process was the most striking and effective method of producing colored multiples at the time. Although quite rare now, Deweys' polychromic watercolor artworks can still be found in complete book sets, and continue to be valued for their exquisite beauty. This 1875 plate book of 91 images shown below was sold on eBay a year ago for about $400.





To produce each stenciled image, artists would use transparent watercolors to build up areas of tone and color. Stems, tendrils and small details such as the small, red paint strokes seen on the peach above, were painted freehand for added effect on many images. The stencils were most likely made of paper, but brass could easily have been used and would have endured much longer. Paint and inks were carefully applied through these stencils using a brush or dauber of sorts—creating vivid color tones and values as layers were added. A similar process to this, called porchoir, was later popularized in Europe in the early 20th century, however that process relied upon a printed "key plate" to which stenciled color was applied. Greater detail of the "theorem" stencil and brush process can be seen in the grape images below. 



In the wake of Dewey's successful enterprise, the nursery trade flourished in Rochester, NY, bringing with it many imitators of botanical plate books. Skilled craftsman and printers soon followed and by 1871, the first chromolithographic company opened in Rochester, which forever changed the landscape of the nursery business in the US.

Small newspaper ad and advertising envelope for D.M. Dewey's "colored fruit and flower plates."




 

This 1872 D.M. Dewey plate book shown above appears to be stenciled plates. Later editions, such as this handsome edition below were entirely printed with chromolithographed plates. This stenciled book happens to be in reasonably nice shape and still available here for a rather large sum. I just have my eye on that sweet grape arbor below.



By 1881, Dewey's company offered over 2400 varieties of book plates of plant specimens. In the wake of his successful enterprise, the nursery trade flourished in Rochester, NY, bringing with it many imitators of his botanical plate books. Skilled craftsman and printers soon followed and by 1871, the first chromolithographic company opened in Rochester, which forever changed the landscape of the nursery business in the US. Confident that chromolithography was the solution to "a greater variety and better plates," Dewey consolidated his nursery supply business with the Rochester Lithographing and Printing Company in 1888. One year later he died, "but the demand for plate books did not" according to Tim Hensley of the Urban Homestead, and "no less than a dozen Rochester printing companies would follow in his wake." Hensley points out that each printer had a style uniquely their own as they each employed their own team of individual artists. Some particularly stood out such as the work of the Stecher Lithographing Company (1887-1936) who went on to produce posters, labels and trade cards for seed companies. The Stecher plates of the Salway peach and Le Conte Pear below from Hensley's site, Rood Remarks, are so exquisite, I find it difficult to believe they are chromoliths. I'm fairly certain they are a combination of chromo and stencil artwork of the tendrils and leaves. The last image of the Greensboro peach printed by the Vrendenburg & Company of Rochester is most certainly a chromolith plate. They are all mighty fine fruit plates. 





Friday, April 18, 2014

A Toy Story Legend


Via Silly Putty History

Peter Hodgson, Sr., (1912-1976) who starred in this 1951 Silly Putty TV commercial, was just another ad man down on his luck, writing copy for a small toy store catalog in New Haven, Connecticut when he first launched the idea of marketing a blob of silicone goop as a toy. The plastic goop was actually a failed experiment from General Electric scientists in New Haven who were looking to develop a synthetic rubber. Soon the non-toxic goo became the topic of conversation at a cocktail party where Mr. Hodgson first learned of it. 
     "Everybody kept saying there was no earthly use for the stuff, but I watched them as they fooled with it. I couldn't help noticing how people with busy schedules wasted as much as 15 minutes at a shot just fondling and stretching it" Hodgson later recalled. 
     After placing his first ad in the 1949 toy catalog, Hodgson borrowed $147 to package and fill orders. Silly Putty soon became an overnight success. Sales of the seemingly useless goo packaged in a plastic egg quickly expanded into 22 other countries, reaching over $5 million in annual sales. Mr. Hodgson was living the dream. 


Via Click Americana

"The Real Solid Liquid" as Silly Putty came to be known, was an American toy story legend simply because Mr. Hodgson viewed the useless silicone blob through a new set of eyes. From trash to treasure—he didn't see it as a failed experiment—he saw it as "fun for the whole family." It's all just context. With a logo of putty-like lettering, and packaging of a faux wood-grained television set, Silly Putty was ready for prime time. 
     For many of us, it was also our first introduction to printmaking. Who couldn't resist pulling impressions of favorite comic characters and stretching them until they snapped? This toy was magic—it could do anything!



Via 4|CP

Though seemingly harmless...it was not. I'm sure I wasn't alone to find I was the victim of another bad haircut after falling asleep with Silly Putty—only to wake up with it embedded in my hair. Or to leave it to rest on a desk in the sun, and return later to find it in a melted puddle of putty on the floor. 


Via Flickr

If you find yourself off to an Easter egg hunt this weekend, I hope you find a brightly-colored plastic egg with a blob of goop inside. Just don't eat it.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Now Playing: The American Sign Printer

Letterology is typically not in the habit of making product reviews, but I'm making an exception today, and giving two thumbs-up for this dramatic production of the American Sign Printer kit by the Superior Marking Equipment Company of Chicago. Originally staged in the 1940s, the colorful art direction and cast of characters built a suspenseful yet familiar plot: young child with lofty ambitions of becoming a successful sign maker, quickly has hopes dashed by diminished expectations. "This American troupe's patriotic production must have been directed by the 'Inferior' Marking Equipment Company", cried some of the blistering reviews. In comparison to the mighty opening credits in the first act, the shrinking performance was considered uninspired and featureless. Unfortunately, even with its large cast of 26 characters and a parade of extras (along with one lone star), nothing could save this play from a short shelf life. Now, nearly 70 years later, the revival of the American Sign Printer is a real sleeper of a hit. It's now playing in limited release. Get one here and here while supplies last!  

Disclaimer: Letterology receives no funding nor commercial loot from independent dealers, and only offers reviews and recommendations as a public service ;)
  



Okay, they deserve one gratuitous star for casting an outline face. Done!



Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Letterforensics 101

In my last post about the mid-19th century alphabet, I gave acknowledgement to the printer/publisher, Charles Joseph Hullmandel and the likely British artist of these rustic landscape letters, who is known simply as "L.E.M. Jones". I even asserted that this Jones character was a man, which in retrospect, was rather presumptuous of me. It maddens me somewhat when artists of this caliber and standard can fall into relative obscurity, yet their work has survived in at least two of the world's leading art museums. My curiosity of L.E.M. Jones lead me to do some further sleuthing, and I located another similar work to those I posted yesterday. This single "graphite" drawing of the C&K is from the Metropolitan Museum of ArtJones is listed as "active" from 1800-1870, and the image is described as "Alphabet Book Design (Letters C and K)". The only distinguishing mark on the sheet is a blind stamp appearing on the lower right corner with the word "Bate" above a crown. 


Can you spot the differences?




Pardon my redundancy to repeat the last two images from yesterday's post again, but I wanted to draw a comparison between the two versions. On closer examination, it appears this C and the K from the British Museums' archives is just slightly different than the "graphite" CK drawing from the Met Museum seen at the top of this post. In addition to the ever-so-subtle differences, the CK version is drawn in two or more colors of grey it appears, and I am wondering now if this had anything to do with Hullmandel's invented method of adding "tone" to his lithographic prints, as I mentioned yesterday. This largely depends upon what his method was, but maybe the Jones CK drawing was a master guide to indicate where to add the 2nd color for the final print. If someone has further insight to add or correct me, I would love to hear it. I am not a lithographer or printer by any measure, but just have a curiosity about printing processes. All of this brings me no closer to identifying Jones, but I like to think that I am connecting a few of the dots here. Below, are two macro images of the graphite CK drawing for a much closer view. 



Update: Mystery Solved

Friend of Letterology, and face behind the scholarly Circuitous Root, Dr. David M. MacMillan has helped to solve the mystery behind the artist and the printing of Hullmandel's Landscape Alphabets. He sent me a text image from Michael Twyman's recently published book, A History of Chromolithography: Printed Colour for All, which explains much about the story. According to Tywman, Hullmandel found himself in a public spat with an associate of printer, Charles Engelmann, who was said to be the inventor of chromolithography in 1837. This rivalry between the two printing firms lead to some fierce competition. Engelmann published "an inventive little alphabet book with the title The Landscape Alphabet (Paris, 1830), each letter being drawn in a more-or-less contrived way within a landscape setting." Using the very same title, Hullmandel then published his own, more elaborate version of a landscape alphabet the very next year. It was for a charity publication using the beautiful crayon-drawn letters by a Miss L.E.M. Jones. (She was indeed a woman artist, as I second-guessed.) It would make sense then to believe that this 1831 edition, with the grey tone letters doubled up on each page, was Hullmandel's first printing. His second edition with just one letter per page printed black only, came later. I am grateful to Dr. MacMillan for bringing Michael Twymans' findings to light, and connecting all the dots.

Friday, September 13, 2013

Making Copies

This odd little book structure may resemble an artist book, but it's actually a very rare Victorian portable copier device made by Sampson Mordan & Co. in England, and is designed to make a copy of a handwritten letter with the application of pressure, ink, paper and water. Typically referred to as a copying press, they were often found in homes and offices in the second half of the 19th century before the rise of the typewriter. I must have blinked when this rare portable copier press sold on eBay recently, and I hope it found a happy home/office. 
     Sampson Mordan (1790-1843), the maker of this copier book, was actually a British silversmith and co-inventer of the first patented propelling mechanical pencil in 1822. Mordan later formed a partnership with Gabriel Riddle, an established stationer, and together they sold silver mechanical pencils resembling figural objects, animals, and other novelty shapes, which were (and still are) highly prized. In addition to their wildly successful pencils, they manufactured inkstands, letter balances, cedar pencils patent locks, fire proof cash boxes, deed boxes, seal presses, and these unusual leather bound portable copying presses.






A copy was made by dampening a single sheet of tissue-like paper and placing it on a newly inked original. After bookending each with a sheet of oiled paper to prevent further ink penetration, the moist tissue paper could easily absorb the ink from the freshly written original once pressure was applied. The newly made copy was thin enough to be read from both sides and it could then be sandwiched between blotter paper for drying. A successful copy was directly dependent upon the amount of time and pressure applied to each impression, and how freshly inked the original had been. Office Museum, the definitive site on antique office equipment, claims "the quality of the copies made on letter copying presses was limited by the properties of the available copying inks." The first aniline dye was invented in 1856, which roughly coincided with the earliest importation of thin papers from Japan, and this set the stage for the rise of bound letter books for safekeeping of documents.   

Making multiples of any business documents and letters in the 19th century was a persistent challenge, but this began to change after the introduction of the typewriter and the improvement of greaseless carbon paper around the 1880s. Up until this period, copying presses of all shapes, sizes and styles were being developed. This advertisement for a foot lever press from a London dealer appeared in 1886. 
Source: British Library  



More familiar to bookbinders is the heavy iron screw press which was also used for copying office documents in the 19th century, using the same principles of water, ink and pressure. Less portable maybe, but far more industrial strength.
Source: Pinterest


Then again, this more portable iron book press which stands about 3.5 inches tall and weighing just over one pound, must have been dreamed up by some really small business owner, bent on usability. 
Source: Letterology Archives 

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Grumpy Cats and Children

Cats have always gotten a bad rap. Grumpy cat is no exception. In fact the original grumpy cat dates back to the late 19th century when these sourpusses were portrayed on Staffordshire transferware dishes. These scarce pottery dishes with their hand-lettered alphabet borders were commonly presented as gifts and rewards of merit to good little children. 


Transferware takes its name from the printing process first developed in England in the later 18th century. A dampened tissue paper is placed on an engraved and inked copper plate, and then run through a press to reveal the design. The printed paper is then carefully peeled away from the copper plate, and the freshly inked design is transferred onto a piece of pottery. Once this pottery is glazed and fired, it becomes a permanent design. Multiples of any design could easily be made by this method, making it far more affordable than much of the hand-painted pottery of the day.




Some of the transferware pottery for children often had an impression of an alphabet around the rim, as in this rare child's tea party plate which also includes a signing alphabet for the deaf, and two grumpy little children. Just a cautionary tale kids; be good, clean your plate, and learn your ABCs, or you'll be living with the grumpy cats! 



::All alphabet transferware dishes featured here are sourced from the Childhood Antiques Rubylane shop, where you can find more of this nature.