Another book rolled off the Caseroom production line recently. Sewing Secrets is another collaborative edition by Philippa and Tamar MacLellan. They originally began working on this book in 2009 under the title of ABC of Stitching and Sewing, however the project didn’t get far and was shelved for 8 years, until recently, with the Bristol Artists Book Event looming, it seemed an appropriate time to resurrect it. The book uses a collection of old dress patterns that were scanned, reduced then printed and made into small envelopes, a short story is encased within each of the 12 envelopes.
Archive for the ‘book release’ Category
Although Fond Farewells, the new pair of books by Philippa and Angie Butler won’t be officially launched until Small Publisher’s Fair in London on 4/5 November, Angie managed to submit them it time for the Stroud Letterpress Celebration curated by fellow LENventioner Lucy Guenot. The exhibition opens 29 October-20 November.
One of the nicest things about being part of The Caseroom Press is the larger community of people that it brings you into contact with. We’ve met so many wonderful people at book fairs, and, on occasion, got to work with them here at the University of Lincoln too. Angie Butler has become a regular collaborator with Philippa on her books, and runs (fantastic) book arts workshops with our students every year – and of course there’s Stephen Fowler, the go-to-guy for all your rubber stamping and primitive printing needs.
Stephen has now taken some time out from printing things to write a book on that very subject – and very good it is too. It made Barrie want to quit this crazy typography lark and start stamping.
With an introduction by Rob Ryan (praise indeed), the book covers all the materials and techniques you’ll need to start your own independent primitive print workshop.
The book is full of beautiful examples, experiments and suggestions as to how you might develop your own practice and is awash with delights. The Illustrations include some very nice ‘freeform repeat patterns’ by none other than Jantze Tullett too.
The book is available from Laurence King, or of course Amazon. We’d suggest that if you’re only going to buy one book this year, buy Typewriter Art: A Modern Anthology, but if you’re going to buy two books, buy Rubber Stamping as well.
By comparison to Barrie’s recent blog post and the nine year saga of Utopian Tales, the collaborative project between Philippa and Angie Butler of ABPress has been a mere 18 months in the making, but nonetheless it is with a sigh of relief that their limited edition artists’ book has finally rolled off the production line. Fond Farewells is part of an on-going project called Endangered Species, this particular edition is a pair of books that examines lost language.
One of the collaborative projects that Philippa has been involved with recently has been Meeting in the Middle. In January this year she started working with Tamar MacLellan, to research the 88 mile Jurassic Way. Taking a 44 mile section each, they both explored 18 villages, with a focus on social history. In the final book, a person from the past is used to represent each of the villages, their story is re-told in postcard format on the reverse. The individual A6 pages were produced as single pieces of artwork and then stitched together to become one book, with the sections literally meeting in the middle.
After more years than Barrie would like to admit to, Utopian Tales/Utopische Märchen is finally in print, and copies are now in the post to the contributors.
The never-ending story starts in 1987 – at the Chelsea School of Art, whilst he was learning the joys of typography, magazine design and letterpress. The Chelsea School of Art opened his eyes to a great many other things too – music, dance, literature, theatre. It was an education in the arts in the broadest sense. Through the recommendations of his tutors, particularly Frances Corner, Rob Mason, Jon Newman and Dave Strickland, he discovered (amongst many other things) the work of Kurt Schwitters and the writings of Jack Zipes, which have led directly to the blog post that you are just about to read.
Some ten years after graduating, he was living and working in Edinburgh, and was lucky enough to freelance for Polygon Books. As part of getting to know the imprint, he was allowed his pick of their back catalogue, including Polygon Sigma – which according to the intriguing blurb on the flyleaf was ‘a series of books which challenge the barriers between disciplines. It will include weird fictions, half-truths, plagiarisms, anarchisms, aphorisms and…’
He never found out what the ‘and’ was, as that was where the statement finished, but one of their books in particular caught his eye. It was called Utopian Tales from Weimar and was edited and translated from the German by none other than Jack Zipes. What’s more, it contained two fairy tales by Kurt Schwitters. It just couldn’t get any better.
And of course, it didn’t. The book was originally published in America and it was photo typeset. It appeared to have been designed between the end of paste-up and the beginning of the Macintosh revolution. The text was quite dense, a condensed sans-serif, on a tight leading, and no matter how many times he picked it up to read it, something about the typography and design defeated him. Utopia always remained out of reach.
At various points when he was teaching in Edinburgh and Glasgow, Barrie would lend the book to students as research for their projects, but whoever the reader, it always seemed to be a hard book to engage with. Wonderful though the content was, the typography and layout just lacked readability.
In 2005, Jantze and Barrie had moved down south and he was teaching at Lincoln School of Art – making Artists’ Books as part of The Caseroom Press, as well as continuing to freelance. One of his clients was the Scottish Poetry Library, and at the time he was working on a series of books for them. One book in particular, How to Address the Fog: XXV Finnish Poems 1978–2002 seemed to be going through an endless series of corrections (which in turn led him to make to another book, The Ghost in the Fog, but that’s another tale). During a particularly trying set of alterations – as he recalls, it included an argument between two translators as to whether a series of ‘o’s should have a ‘^’ or not – he looked up to see, on his bookshelf, his copy of Utopian Tales from Weimar, and he thought, ‘now that I’m working as part of an Artists’ Book collective, I could maybe make a new version. A better version.’
So, Barrie searched the web for Jack Zipes, found an e-mail address and wrote to him to ask if he’d consider working on a new edition of it. Much to his surprise, Jack wrote back, said that he was going to be in London and asked if Barrie fancied meeting him for lunch?
So they met, discussed Utopian Tales, Kurt Schwitters, Gianni Rodari and many other things, and as a result, Philippa Wood, Brian Peacock and Barrie started working on a number of projects based around Jack’s translations – these became Lucky Hans and Other Merz Fairy Tales (published by Princeton University Press), Tales to Change the World, The MerzBox, The Good Man, The Onion MerzPoem No. 8 and Fairy Tale, all published through The Caseroom Press.
But of course, what he’d really wanted to publish was Utopian Tales.
The first problem was that none of the text matter existed digitally. Jack had originally researched the book in East and West Germany back in the early 1970s and had photocopied the stories at the time, ready to translate when he returned home. These were quite ‘soft’ copies, often from poor quality photocopiers and had hand written notes where the copied text was illegible.
The only copy for the English translations was that in the Polygon Sigma book itself.
So. The first task was to scan the entire book, run it through Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software and create a new clean digital file. This was time consuming, but fairly straightforward. The text matter was good enough quality to be picked up fairly well and required very little editing.
The German texts were a different story. The tales published after 1941 were usually set in sans serif, but those before that tended to be set in blackletter. The scanning software had a language option, so it could recognise German words, but even the sans serif stories were only partially successful. The age and poor quality of the copies often meant that the OCR didn’t pick enough information up and the stories needed to be transcribed letter by letter (Barrie doesn’t speak German) and typed in to form the final digital copy (He can’t touch type either, so this took a while).
The blackletter script was impossible to scan at all and each of those stories needed to be typed in, in their entirety, letter-by-letter, word-by-word. And, to add to his woes of not speaking German and not being able to touch type, the forms of blackletter script are fairly unfamiliar. As Zuzana Licko said back in 1990, ‘you read best what you read most’.
So, there were many, many nights of slowly typing in texts, half of which barrie could read, and half that he couldn’t. Luckily Jack was very happy to re-proof-read his original translations, and Ken Cockburn, a long time collaborator, proof-read, amended and – on occasion – completed the missing parts of the German stories, working back from Jack’s English texts.
Finally, the text matter for the book was complete and all the illustrators and artists began to produce varied and delightful works for each of the English and German versions of the stories. He really cannot thank them enough, both for their contributions and their endless patience.
Eventually, in the Summer of 2007, Utopian Tales/Utopische Märchen was ready to go to press.
The project had been given the go-ahead by the University; it was deep in the middle of the Research Assessment Exercise and, although the Head of Research at the time seemed to have had little truck for Graphic Design as a viable source of ‘research’, it was grudgingly agreed that Jack and Kurt carried the day and the book would be ‘reffable’.
It just couldn’t get any better.
And of course, it didn’t.
In a Series of Unfortunate Events, the funding was lost, and that was that. The book was dead and Utopia was further away than ever before.
Barrie contacted everybody to let them know what had happened, to apologise for the setback, and to say that he would continue to try and find a way to publish the book. And to be honest, it’s been on his mind ever since. Every so often he’s tried to raise funding for it to go to press, or to make an ‘in-house’ edition, but my attempts always came to nothing.
Which is where we are now. In 2015 Barrie finally realised that he has the methods of production that he needed to make the books. After a few false starts with the Glue Binder and some dead-end format changes, he made a dummy that he could produce in a very limited edition. He contacted everyone to get updated biographies … and found out that a few folk had forgotten they’d ever contributed in the first place.
The first job – taking lots of big bits of paper and making them into…
… lots and lots of smaller bits of paper
The production line in progress.
It was quite a daunting, and time consuming task. Most of the Summer has seen Barrie trimming, cutting, folding, sticking and collating all the various elements that make the books up.
The books getting their last trim on the guillotine.
Ready to ship. Only 9 years later than expected.
But. Finally. Wonderfully. Thankfully. Here it is. Utopian Tales/Utopische Märchen. With a heartfelt thank you to all the illustrators for their work, their patience, and their support, here is the most ambitious book Barrie had never published. Utopia at last.
We shall leave you with a very apt quote from Jack Zipes himself.
‘Inevitably they find their way into the forest.
It is there that they lose and find themselves.
It is there that they gain a sense of what is to be done.
The forest is always large, immense, great and mysterious.
No one ever gains power over the forest,
but the forest posses the power to change lives and alter destinies.’
The Caseroom Press were at the Small Publishers Book Fair at Conway Hall on Friday and Saturday. We had a number of new books on display, plus posters and postcards, with Barrie giving a talk about Utopian Tales, ‘the most ambitious collaboration we’ve never published’, (although he’s hoping to change that quite soon).
We caught up with old friends, met some new folk and are very pleased to announce that our books were bought for a number of collections including the Poetry Library, UWE, the Slade, the V&A and The Tate.
One of the people we met worked for the University of Brighton on the Books Arts course, and it would appear that they were so impressed that they wrote this very succinct appreciation of us: http://blogs.brighton.ac.uk/hg2/2015/11/09/the-caseroom-press/
As if all that excitement wasn’t enough, a piece that Barrie wrote for COLDFRONT – Singular Vispo :: First Encounters – about his introduction into Visual Poetry, and the piece of work that changed the way he saw language (HN Werkman’s The Next Call) has just gone live. The forty responses will be rolled out in groups of five each over the coming weeks. Along with Barrie’s thoughts are Brian Reed on Mary Ellen Solt, Louis Bury on bpNichol, Aram Saroyan on Ian Hamilton Finlay, and Orchid Tierney on Alison Knowles & James Tenney…
And just to top it all off, long time Caseroom Press collaborator Ken Cockburn’s translation of Suche, by Christine Marendon is in The Guardian today. Ken’s translation received a commendation in the recently announced results of the 2015 Stephen Spender prize.
The second part of Alan Mason’s The Magazine (February) is finally here, hot off the press and printed by those nice people at Short Run in Exeter.
We would like to thank The Edinburgh College of Art for its support with this project.
The second edition off the press this summer was an artists’ book entitled The Lost Art of Filing. This production was basically an excuse to print some of the 200 blocks the we purchased last year from friend and printmaker John Richardson. The book looks at how we bring a sense of order and organization (or not) to a collection of objects.
Philippa spent some of the summer working on two small editions, the first was a book that was originally started in 2010 – (this seems to be a theme of the Caseroom Press although I can’t quite match Barrie’s nine year delay!). This artists’ book forms part of a series about personal collections – in this instance sunglasses from the 50s, 60s and 70s. The book reflects the idea of the paper dress-up doll, with lovely illustrations by fellow Caseroom Press collaborator Tamar MacLellan.