For as long as I can remember—or at least since the early 1980s—hanging on the wall of my parent’s house was a letterpress wood type collage with our surname in the center, surrounded by various other wood type and dingbats. It always had a prominent position in their home, even after several moves.
My late father worked for AM International (Addressograph Multigraph) selling offset printing presses and duplicators around the world. One of his customers, the Stationers’ Association of Britain and Ireland, gave the eighteen inch square collage to him as a gift. According to the back of the collage, it was “uniquely handcrafted by Jecacraft Designs” out of Leicester, England.
I have always had a love/hate relationship with the piece.
I love how the wood type looks so warm and beautiful and to think about the time it took to put the collage together with the various sizes used is incredible. All the impressions that must have happened over the years. How old was the type? Are the companion pieces in other collages throughout England or the world? The stories that this type could tell.
Alternatively, I hate knowing that this type was taken out of circulation to never be printed again—to be used as an eyepiece instead of usable letterforms for posters, ephemera, or broadsides.
Original letterpress wood type collage (left); inked up collage ready to be printed (center); and final print (right).
Being the graphic designer in the family and having my own small press, I was fortunate to inherit the beautiful family heirloom after the passing of my mother in October. Since I am one of four siblings, I wanted to share the piece with my brothers and sister and decided to print the collage so all four of us could enjoy the piece that they also remembered from our parents home.
Although I’ve printed numerous items on various presses including my own, I knew that this would be altogether different. The type collage is in a wooden frame and mounted on a backing board, and because of this, the letters were not “type high” so could not be traditionally printed on a typical press. It would have to be printed by hand—a technique that I had very little experience with, not to mention printing something this large.
Immediately, I reached out to Jim Sherraden. Jim is master printer and archivist at Hatch Show Print in Nashville. Founded in 1879, Hatch is one of America’s oldest surviving letterpress, show poster, and design shops. Since 1984, Jim has overseen its transition from a cultural survivor to a widely recognized graphic design icon and destination for letterpress enthusiasts. He is also the creator of one of-a-kind monoprints based on the shops archive, which are collected by individuals and institutions worldwide. Since his retirement in 2018, Jim has returned to his personal work of relief printing. “In many instances,” Jim explains, “watercolor is applied to an oil-based ink printed woodcut or linocut, making each of them unique.”
Samples of Jim Sherraden’s current work. Follow him on Instagram at @JimSherraden or see more of his work on his website.
Armed with various types of paper and the collage itself, I joined Jim at his home and studio outside Nashville. We would spend the day talking about printing (light is one of your best friends when printing); music (he introduced me to the Radio Garden app where you can listen to thousands of live radio stations world-wide—that day we were listening to a station broadcasting from the Ukraine); his days at Hatch (printing for The Stairway to Heaven Robert Plant), and my family (talking about our days growing up in Holland and Belgium). We huddled around the collage as we created a game plan before inking it up.
Collage ready for printing in the studio (left); sides protected by tape, Jim applies the first ink that this type has seen in at least forty years (center); pulling a small test print from the inked blocks (left).
Hand-printing is an intimate process. After inking up and aligning the paper, Jim and I proceeded to press and rub every letter, number, dingbat, and wood cut with our hands. Lower areas needed special attention and some blocks needed additional ink. I noticed details that day that I hadn’t seen in years of enjoying the collage. We tried different papers and applied various pressure. At the end of the day we walked away with stories and laughter, a few amazing and transparent artist proofs, and an edition of four for myself and my three siblings. When looking at the collage itself, you see the image as a whole. The type becomes one with the background. But when printed, it takes on a completely new look—beautiful, individual shapes and letterforms appear—both printed and in the negative space.
The type had not seen ink in over forty years. One endearing moment during our day was when Jim leaned over the type, listened intently, and whispered, “I’ll let him know.”
He then stood up straight and informed me, “The type thanks you—it enjoys the ink; it loves being printed.“
This Christmas, I will be making a gift of the prints to my family, and will frame and hang mine alongside the collage. According to pastor and renowned author Rick Warren, “the greatest gift you can give someone is your time.” And that is what Jim gave me this year—the gift of his expertise and time.
A day—a gift—that I will remember always.