Because I do not spend internet time in places that annoy me, even to the most microscopic degree, I find it a rich land where the good-of-heart nourish and encourage each other. We pass along the most choice morsels we find here, and go about our day with greater wisdom, a fresh outlook, new intention. With passionate thanks to Lisa Hoffman and, by extension, Mary Ann Moss, for the following video and the worlds to which it introduces us.
ink&paper from Ben Proudfoot on Vimeo.
It is not exaggeration to say these are my people, my places. I am shocked to learn that I live perhaps 25 minutes from these businesses and did not know they exist. They speak to me of early childhood, visiting the back shop of the second newspaper where my father worked, after the war, after college. The ink and metal and paper smells mingled. They spark memories of my first job at the Huntington Library, running departmental errands to the bindery in the basement, Italian marbled papers - talk about love at first sight - also letterpress, leather, glue. There was a clerical job at the Washington Post in which I kept records of typesetting production statistics, followed later by a feature writing position for a local daily that had not yet transitioned from hot to cold type. I loved proofreading almost as much as writing, getting to stand next to the aproned men in the composing room as they discarded the metal equivalent of lines I'd just deleted from a story. No wonder I became a fool for rubber stamps. Alphabet sets, almost like letterpress, cardboard, learning the weights and finishes of paper, inks. Look, I'm a cottage industry.