hand work
i never remember what hk stands for. i had to look it up: hendrik nicolass. any designer who has anything to do with letterpress will certainly know hk werkman’s designs. i have long
been a fan. in my many visits to book stores and book fairs i have seen werkman’s books on numerous occasions. his next call edition pops up most often. oddly, i have never bought a copy. the price is certainly the main reason. i’m not even sure i have ever seen a first edition.
i never tire of looking at his compositions. i dream of one day buying a hand press and beginning the experimentation myself. the smell of ink, the physical effort, the release of the paper—such is the dream. as a matter of fact, learning of the recent sale of an extremely special hand press made me consider that dream once again. i have seen pictures of karl martens’ hand press and have bought one of his works myself. my little gem. that’s what it is, a little gem of a design by hk werkman himself—an ex libris for p j hiemstra, whoever he may have been. a quick search yielded this very ex libris sold at auction at christie’s in 1996 for 159 dollars. i don’t know if he was a friend, client or associate, or if werkman created many such designs, but i am extremely proud to own this piece of his. hopefully, it is new to you. it’s always inspiring to me.
modern monday
there are many items in my collection that i buy for their pure modernist design reference. many of these items don’t have a particular stories attached to them. i have bought items from dealers, paper fairs, online, from just about everywhere. in looking through my collections for this post, it struck me that i should choose a weeks worth of design inspiration. so i begin this week with a design by walter dexel. here’s a link to the merrill berman’s collection. if you don’t know it, please spend some time here for so much interesting design. if you’re not familiar with dexel, here’s a quick read. if you’re inclined to spend some major dollars here’s a link to a wonderful archive that you can own. (check out item number 81.) enjoy the week.
in his shoes
my father died 18 years ago today. cancer. he was a smoker and drinker, both to excess. i have neither habits. another habit of my father’s was polishing his shoes. as a child i would sit and watch as he spent an entire sunday every couple of months polishing his shoes. when he died he had 56 pairs. all varieties of brogues, wingtips, and loafers. he polished them to a flawless high shine. sitting in his undershirt and a dirty pair of khakis, he would work up a sweat. i never saw him do any work about the house. i don’t think he knew the difference between a flat and a phillips head screwdriver. he thought me cocky and arrogant. i recall a fishing trip we took in 1992. we were staying at a roadside hotel—one where norman bates would have felt comfortable—in eufaula, alabama. we were arguing about something or other and he challenged me with the question, “what two ships fought in the civil war?” we southerners always try to bring up the civil war to test each other’s knowledge. if i didn’t know the answer, i wasn’t a true southerner and certainly not as smart as i thought i was. so i pondered for a few moments, thought of one ship—the monitor—but couldn’t come up with the other name. “see, you’re not so smart, are you?” i smiled and asked, “dad, which state is farthest east—new hampshire or vermont?” he looked at me, then walked into the bathroom and closed the door. a smart-ass i certainly was. he didn’t know the answer. what he did know was how to put a shine on a pair of shoes. his trick was not to buff but to use a damp rag and rub to a high shine. he did one thing in particular: he shined the soles. well, the instep of the sole. he served in korea and he told me that is where he learned to shine shoes and i know that the first thing he looked at when he met a man, was his shoes. he certainly believed, “shoes make the man.” i inherited his love of shoes, though i don’t own anywhere near 56 pairs and i don’t spend sundays polishing mine. i do polish as needed. after he died, i did something to remember him. rather selfishly, i went to john lobb in paris and order a pair of bespoke shoes. i’m embarrassed to say how much they cost but let me just say, more than the airfare. the experience of having bespoke shoes made is thrilling and a wonder. the smell recalls sitting in a new car. the feel of a fine piece of sculpture. brancusi? i loved the whole experience. and i came to treasure something unexpected: the john lobb box. it was a simple side-stapled box, with paper-wrapped board and a printed label. i expect once upon time this label was actually engraved. i love it in every way. now i have a few pair of ready- to-wear lobb shoes, and those came in a lovely heavy-duty board box with the john lobb logotype embossed on it. it is lovely, too, but the box for these bespoke shoes seems just right, truly unpretentious. it seems less about design and more about function and simplicity. i have learned that john lobb no longer uses this box. this makes me sad, but knowing it also makes me treasure mine that much more. my bespoke lobbs have been resoled twice and should last me twenty more years, provided i shine them often. my dad would be pleased to know that i honor him in this way. he loved his shoes. today i can remember the two ships that fought in the civil war: the monitor and the merrimack. i’m ready for that question now, dad.
just scraps
all things related to design ephemera interests me. running across collections of things fascinates me. in my wanderings i often find these monogram scrapbooks. i waste no time buying these books. after all i do collect ‘collections of collections’. it was quite a common practice to write letters and request replies to get the monograms from a variety of places: individual, institutions, official offices and the like. this particular scrapbook has the many lovely examples of 19th century monograms, primarily engraved initials. i am never bored in trying to decipher the intwined letterforms, some more complex than others. however what makes this book special is the pages of signatures and addresses. the contrast between the regular grid of the monograms versus the random collage of the these few unusual pages compelled me purchase this crest scrapbook. i have a couple dozen of these books, this example is typical of the majority of what i find. over the years i find less and less of these. ebay used to be a resource but i rarely check there anymore and my collecting maybe more specific at the moment. these scrapbooks are a great resource for me. when my studio did a hotel identity they proved extremely helpful and inspiring. i found this book in a book stall off portobello road in london. i had the chance to walk portobello road last october. it was a beautifully sunny and full of people. it has always been crowded to my memory and i can always find something. i recall items that i missed out on too. as there are many high end dealers along the road. often there is some dialogue when you are purchasing an antique. the dealer is interested in your collecting. the dealer parting knowledge about what your buying, telling you it’s valuable and they have priced it too low. when there is no price the dealer will look you over and the priced is determined by more than just the object in hand. this time the owner wasn’t around and twenty pounds was the price. i was happy with that and i was off to the next stall. now to my next post.
from the shelf
so many of the books and ephemera i have collected were bought with excitement and a sense of discovery. once examined and absorbed for design and reference, they are filed away. so many items left neglected for so many years. there is a scene in a mark walhberg movie, shooter, in which his character encounters an older man, an authority on guns and conspiracies. as they are talking, this man refers to a book on his shelf and says, “right were i left it 12 years ago.” that might be the case with this brochure designed by sutnar. the swann auction house auctioned some specific items of his from the cooper hewitt in 1998. i bid on many items at that auction and missed out on so many rare books and designs. this brochure was one that i did not win. i dropped out at a thousand dollars. i don’t think i had ever bid such a high price. so many things come into play when bidding on something you want. one factor that i could not have imagined was the feeling that you simply don’t want the other person to have it. that competitive spirit was unexpected. i decided then not to be present at future auctions and i have lived by that rule ever since. as i said, i did not win the sutnar brochure that day but it’s memory lingered for years to come. i had never seen this brochure before and knew very little about it. it was such a surprise to attend the antiquarian book fair at the park armory many years later and see that a dealer from london had it in his case. i asked the dealer if i could examine it. “are you familiar with sutnar?” he asked. i smiled. the price: four fifty. sold. i did not even try to bargain. after a quick look on the internet i found little more than other photos. the brochure designed by sutnar for canterbury printing falls in the category of promotion materials. when was the last time you received a paper promotion or a glossy elaborate printed promotion? here’s a bit from it: “only through good design and fine printing can you add that touch of distinction to your literature which makes it fully effective with discriminating people and economical in producing maximum sales results.” here’s another: “striking design and good illustration will assure attention for your message and make your sales points clear and convincing.” copyright 1950. can’t argue with either of these statements, now can you? what’s interesting about this brochure is the design, of course. not sure who would read the text as the graphics are so memorable. sutnar is at his best here. nothing more to say but “enjoy.”
turn it over
when i started writing this blog i thought i was a modernist collector. it soon became apparent that i am simply a collector. i collector of all things. once upon time i thought i had a unique perspective on collecting and after all these years i have found many that share my same interest and passion. that said i really don’t collect post cards. i really don’t. whenever i attend a paper fair there are dozens of post card dealers. there are specific shows for post card collector. the categories are endless for these collectors; animals, photo cards, states, churches, specific counties…too numerous to list. however since i have attended these shows for years many dealers know my tastes and interests. this can be good and bad. the good part is that when i stop by their booth the dealer will often have put items aside for me. “i have a few things for you”, is how i am greeted after the initial hellos. this is a delight, then the feeling i am obligated to purchase their selections. happy this is rarely the case. there is little pressure other than what i have put on myself. every dealer is different of course and each one puts aside something completely different for me. one of my favorite dealer is michael meade. i see him at the stamp shows and i have been buying paper ephemera from him for years. an incredibly knowledge man. he has shown me patience and tolerance in helping
me build my collections. this particular post post card in fact was bought from him. when michael handed me an envelope of his selected items and i saw the image on this postcard i wondered why he had selected this. the i turned it over and saw the answer. wow. the handwriting, it’s just amazing. how do you feel about your handwriting? when was the last time you sent a post card? when my daughter went to summer camp she asked that i type my correspondence, that certainly tells you all you need to know about my handwriting. the post card begins with le sourire, l’amour, les larmes. the smile, the love, the tears, from my college french, i only knew two of the three and had to look up the third —les larmes. i have not tried to read the entire card, another thing on my to do this, but this card was pinned up at my desk once upon a time. as i look at it afresh. i marvel at the author’s handwriting. it lovingly it ends with “martinique avec 780 mots”, 780 words, that does say it all.