Just My Type

Last night at Letterpress class I was a bit nervous, as we were discussing (as a group) what projects we'd like to work on. On my list I had the following: Business cards (supported by the fact that the studio had a selection of business cards on hand we could use), poetry broadsheets or a couplet or excerpt of a poem. I had sketched out some possibilities for the business cards, with what I thought would be an easy enough logo/design element/doo-dad to incorporate with very simple, basic type. I'm not picky-I just want my name and contact info on a card so people will know how to contact me.

Other folks had come with sketches and ideas. Lisa and our aide for the evening, Mary Alice, were full of suggestions for how to flesh them out. After Lisa showed us how to mix ink, she set us to work. We were in a bit of a flurry, most of us not knowing exactly where to begin, but all of us eager to start. My business cards were simple, however, as far as spacing out my logo/design/doo-dad, it was a bit more complicated.

I chose an arrow motif, like this: -->-->-->-->
The '>' is supposed to be an arrowhead, but there was no arrowhead type in the studio. But, being flexible, I figured the 'greater than' symbol could be realized by placing the letter 'v' on its side. The lines I could do with the rule (type that has a line or variety of lines, straight, doubled, wavy, etc.).

But first I couldn't find three of the same types of rule. Or the same length. Given that I was making business cards, I needed the rule to be short so as not to dominate the card. Or my name. And if I managed to find even lengths and widths of rule, I'd have to add spacers below and above the sideways 'v' in order to have it centered with the rule. So naturally, my seemingly simple design turned out to be somewhat complicated.

I worked on this in a concentrated manner for the remainder of class. Setting the letters, the spacing, the rule on the composing stick. It was while I finally got to the name of my business that I hit another unforeseen hiccup: Sub type. My business is called STUDIO 110, with the '110' just under the line of 'STUDIO,' or as sub type. In order to make this happen in hand-set type, I had to arrange the lines and spacing accordingly. Manually.

I troubleshooted by putting a thinner slug between 'STUDIO' and the next line and using a smaller font for the '110.' Then I had to fill up the space around it. Much of the time you take with setting type by hand is making sure the type won't fall out. Type falling out can result in damage to the press, the type, your project and your emotional core. I learned this last night.

All in all, I must have had three lines of actual type in my composing stick. Nothing too deep and meaningful; just my first and last names, STUDIO 110 and the arrows. I wanted to at least get a proof of what I'd set to see if I liked the font well enough to keep it and to have some evidence that all my hard work amounted to something tangible. Mary Alice helped me get my stick on the proof printer and run a few samples using carbon paper and tracing paper. I was thrilled, but noticed the clock ticking. Our class finishes at 10 p.m. and we need to be out of the studio. A few students had already left and many had placed their type on the galleys (metal trays where you can keep your type until you're done with it), labeling them and storing them away for the week. Hastily, I tidied up my area and went to move my type to the galley. I pressed in on the edges, hoping I was squeezing hard enough so my slivers of copper and paper spacing wouldn't fall out...and woosh! There went half of my words, my spacers, splayed out on the galley. I was disappointed. I figured something could fall out and after my two hours of painstakingly setting the type and spacers, I'd hoped that nothing would. Given that Lisa and Mary Alice were waiting for my slow self to store away my fallen type so they could get home, I didn't have time to cry over it. I wrapped up what little type I had intact, threw the rest beside it on the galley and hit it for home, still obsessing over how I was going to solve my type problem.

Luckily, we have access to the studio each day and the following day I would be without wee ones. After dropping them at their respective day-fun centers, I drove directly to the studio. No one else was there and I could take my time, talk to myself, growl when it didn't work the way I wanted and do a little happy dance when it did.

And guess what? It did! I started from scratch, found a new font, got my arrow logo/design/doo-dad to work, set it all tightly and did a couple of proofs. All with time to spare for meeting a girlfriend for lunch. I did it! I won the skill game!