Happy Day!

Repost: A Thousand Words, Right?

I have always been a huge fan of the posters from President Roosevelt's Works Progress Administration (WPA), and frankly, the scope of the project itself. The largest, and most important of The New Deal Cultural Works—The Works Progress Administration—launched on May 6, 1935—seventy-six years ago—with the simple philosophy of "Putting Unemployed Americans back to work in jobs which would serve the public good and conserve the skills and the self-esteem of workers throughout the United States." FDR himself says this, in regards to our need for change:

"...We find our population suffering from the old inequalities, little changed by our past sporadic remedies. In spite of our effort and in spite of our talk, we have not weeded out the overprivileged and we have not effectively lifted up the underprivileged....We have... a clear mandate from the people, that Americans must forswear the conception of the acquisition of wealth which, through excessive profits, creates undue private power over private affairs and, to our misfortune, over public affairs as well. In building toward this end we do not destroy ambition, nor do we seek to divide our wealth into equal shares on stated occasions. We continue to recognize the greater ability of some to earn more than others. But we do assert that the ambition of the individual to obtain for him and his a proper security, a reasonable leisure, and a decent living throughout life is an ambition to be preferred to the appetite for great wealth and great power."


Persistent unemployment was a continuing concern, and Roosevelt felt that simply doling out relief payments would mean, "spiritual and moral disintegration destructive to the national fibre."


Work began immediately on the WPA's Federal Project Number One (simply known as "Federal One"). The project covered Five Cultural Arenas: the Federal Art Project, the Federal Music Project, the Federal Theatre Project, the Federal Writers Project and the Historical Records Survey, each headed by a National Director. Just one year after the five national directors first met in Washington, some 40,000 WPA Artists and other cultural workers were employed in projects throughout the United States. The cultural impact of this simple fact was far-reaching, summed up by Holger Cahill, director of the Federal Art Project, in a 1939 speech:


"... The Project has discovered that such a simple matter as finding employment for the artist in his [sic] hometown has been of the greatest importance. It has, for one thing, helped to stem the cultural erosion which in the past two decades has drawn most of America's art talent to a few large cities. It has brought the artist closer to the interests of a public which needs him, and which is now learning to understand him. And it has made the artist more responsive to the inspiration of the country, and through this the artist is bringing every aspect of American life into the currency of art."


I'll spare you the history, but long story short, roads were built, parks were cultivated and our Nation's infrastructure was both created and made stronger. A perfect example of that (if we work together),
"The Whole is Greater than the Sum of Its Parts"- Philosophy that Aristotle spoke of.

The poster above was created by Ms. Vera Bock (click)—one of the two noted women creating these works. Created sometime between 1936 and 1941, it is a great example of the WPA's original intent: encouraging laborers to work for America. And perhaps I'm sitting here, listening to the latest happenings in New York, and feeling restless. Perhaps you have been feeling the same way? The economy and the overall state of our Nation has been up in arms, or so it feels. I am counting my blessings Every. Single. Day. I am grateful for health, happiness, a roof over my head and an incredible job. But what more can be done? Moving along, perhaps this next segue may help to guide me:

While puttering around on here and looking at the WPA Posters (click), I started reading about Anthony Velonis (click). He was a schooled artist who joined the New York City WPA Poster Division as a Designer in 1935. In the beginning, the posters were hand-painted or (though, rarely) letterpress printed. Velonis had worked in his brother's sign shop (prior to his time at the College of Fine Arts) and it was he who brought silkscreening into the Poster Division. Through his efforts, silkscreen prints were turned into a fine art medium (serigraphy). He wrote a book called, "Technical Problems of the Artist: Technique of the Silkscreen Process", which can be read in its entirety here (click). Because of his work and contributions in regards to silkscreening, his Dept. was able to produce their posters at a much greater volume. Even still, while creating each one by hand. Enter the concept of an Edition. While I have yet to silkscreen a poster myself, I can say that I know it takes great skill—especially considering the amount of colors that they were using and the separations necessary to recreate the art in multiples. The ink is applied with a squeegee and pulled (using your hands on said-squeegee) with pressure across the sheet of paper/posterboard for each stencil. The ink dries on the paper, so the quality is much closer to the originals than the type of digital printing we'd see today. In a word, simply gorgeous. They were soon producing up to 600 prints a day. Not easy, and I can guess that most printers working in this department probably looked more like linebackers than artists.

In the end, the Works Progress Administration gave way to the Work Projects Administration and then, go figure—government and politics and censorship all reared their special heads (and this is my simplifying at its worst). There were problems too complicated to go into, and most State Units started to assign employees to non-cultural work. Finally the War put an end to all subsidized-artwork. It was formally ended in 1942 and here we are.

I would be lying if I didn't say that these posters are a big source of inspiration for me—artistically and spiritually. It was more a of 'band together' motion rather than a 'stand alone' posture. And maybe this is what I'm getting at? I'm curious—how are you dealing with these times? Are you coping? Are you angry or simply relieved? I understand all of those positions, and I would love to propose a project:
I am thinking as I type, but what about a Collective Poster? Here. If you simply think about these times (and please spend some time on the links in this post), is there a word or words or a sentiment that comes up for you? I'd love to hear it. Perhaps I could take my ramblings and turn them into a Something. Let's see what we can come up with. In the meantime, I am going to go back to my printing press. xo Victoria

Monogram vs. Initials

With my work, I often get requests for "a personal monogram", when perhaps what is desired is a simple set of initials (or visa-versa). So—what's the difference? I'm going to go out on a slippery slope here, and see if I can explain.

Simply speaking, a monogram is a motif, made by overlapping or combining two or more letters (typically one's initials) to form one symbol/decorative design. Sort of like a ligature, except with a clean separation of the 2 or 3 separate letters. The earliest examples appeared on Ancient Greek coins and represent the names of the Greek cities who issued the coins

The picture above is the Artemis Tetradrachm (click). It features Artemis's bust on the front and above Macedonia, on the back, you can see the small monogram at the top. Monograms have also been used as signatures by artists and

craftspeople, especially when guilds enforced measures against unauthorized participation in a trade.

Here is a great example of one by Master Genius, Albrecht Dürer (click):

Though this latter example is not to be confused with, a Maker's Mark (click), which I'll leave for another post.

With all of this being said, it's only natural that they would be adopted for one's personal stationery. In contemporary use, a traditional, 3-letter monogram has the initial of the last name (set larger, or with some special treatment) in the center. If it's an individual, the letter of their first name would go on the left, and their middle initial, on the right. My name would appear like this — VHD (first initial, surname's-initial, middle-initial). If it is a boy/girl married couple with the same last name, the last-name initial would also go in the center, with the woman's first-name initial on the left, and the man's first-name initial on the right.

Initials appear as just that. My name could simply appear as, "VH" — without my middle initial, or it would be, "VDH"—with. That's it.

Lastly, I have seen a trend these past few years in wedding stationery, which involves using a traditional, married monogram on the Invitation itself. I may not win any popularity points with this, but I need to mention that this is a big, fat, etiquette No-No. Incorporating a couple's first-name initials is great, but otherwise, keep the traditional monograms for the reception or any time after,

"I do". Your Grandmother thanks me. xo Victoria

Out on the Town, I Bring You... The Album Cover (with links & links)

Album covers from top L to R:

1. S. Neil Fujita 2. Jim Flora 3. William Eggleston

4. R. Crumb 5. Josef Kalousek 6. Andy Warhol

7. Salvador Dalí 8. Saul Bass 9. Saul Bass

The other night I had the pleasure of catching up with my dear friend and date, Richard Seibert, while attending a talk for The Colophon Club.

A Colophon is an inscription at the end of a book which states the name of the printer, bookbinder, foundry, publishing information as well as the typeface(s) used and the edition size (amongst other things and not necessarily all or in that order).

In this case, the Colophon Club is a group of Bookbinders, Printers, Typographers, Designers, Calligraphers, Rare Book Dealers, Artists and general Book Lovers here in the Bay Area. It's an organization dating back to the late 1970's, whose main objective was to curate a monthly discussion (along with cocktails and dinner) and to provide a meeting place for like-minded enthusiasts to get together and share ideas. A traditional Salon, if you will. I have not attended for quite awhile, so when I saw the Invitation saying that Milo Miles was giving a talk on Record Album Art, I knew it was time to get back in.

Milo Miles is a music critic and a lively speaker, harking back to his Montana Days with his old friend, Peter Koch (former Colophon Club President/whose Print Shop/Studio is where I learned to print). His presentation was short, but very sweet. There were some kitschy (I know this is subjective) offerings as well as some striking and straightforward graphic design. I was well aware of Andy Warhol's iconic album cover (the banana) for The Velvet Underground & Nico, but I had never seen the Kenny Burrell or Johnny Griffin album covers that he did for Blue Note. Lovely and simple, much like his earlier/Andy Paperbag drawings. Miles offered a Jackie Gleason (presents) album, Music to Make You Misty, and I have since found a copy of his infamous Lonesome Echo (cover art by Salvador Dalí) which sounds equally schmaltzy.

Personally, I have always been interested in music. For me, the album covers and liner notes were a giant part of the listening experience. It wasn't until I started consciously learning about typography and graphic design, that I started seeing these pieces with a new perspective. Much like the sign painters of the last Century, this type of graphic design was part of a trade. A skill, where larger Record Labels (Decca, Columbia and RCA to name a few) employed real artists—in house—to create their packaging. Most of the artists were uncredited but these unsung heroes helped to create a large part of the American landscape and pop culture as we've come to know it. Listeners like myself would sit and listen to an album for hours, with the sole purpose of just experiencing it. The album cover and liner notes were there to teach, and to entertain. I wasn't already sitting at a computer, listening to music while I was also doing a bunch of other things at the same time. It was a different pace and bird all-together.

And I'm also the first to admit that I see parallels between the craft of letterpress printing and vinyl records. Both were pushed aside by the shinier, faster 'improvements' (offset/digital printing for letterpress printers and compact/digital downloading for the vinyl industry). While letterpress printing has certainly enjoyed a renaissance, the record industry has been almost completely wiped out; the entire business has changed. It warmed my heart to hear Miles saying that he believes (vinyl) records are going to make a (perhaps small) comeback. People are realizing that these too, are tactile objects. Like books. Like print. You can sit with it, feel it and experience it.

Of course the days of high-end production for said-albums are waning/gone, but there is a new movement of self-produced albums and smaller record labels, offering well-crafted album covers and cds. The art of the album is coming back. Bloodshot Records, Arhoolie and Bear Family Records are all coming to mind as I type this. Jon Langford is a fantastic artist/musician and his work is (to me) becoming as iconic as others mentioned. While they mostly put out cds, Winter and Winter's Editions offerings are just lovely.

In the spirit of this week's talk, I have been compiling a collection of album covers and I thought I would put something together. But forget about the unsung heroes-portion of this writing. In this sampling, I am showing off some now-famous (again with that subjective part) artists' offerings to the world of Album Covers. And oh, I know; the irony is not lost on me that I am putting all of this together on that greatbighug known as the internets, but I digress. I will leave you with this lovely earworm (click on "earworm") while I sit here and continue to mourn the loss of the little red string in the band-aid wrapper... Happy Friday! xo

Friends, Both Close and Far Away.

Last night I met up with my dear Friend (yes, capital "F"), Dan, to see a showing of some of Margaret's work, in San Francisco. The gallery, Ratio 3, was fittingly located in the middle of The Mission (district). Margaret, along with a handful of others, were considered to be a part of San Francisco's contribution to the Art World, The Mission School. I had the pleasure of working with both she and Dan at the San Francisco Public Library, where the 3 of us spent hours mending books, talking and scheming. Dan was our ringleader, I suppose, so it was bittersweet to be with him last night to see part of Margaret's remaining collection. It's always been clear that she is/was a very gifted Artist—her legacy and her talents supersede her. I'm so grateful to have known that in addition to all that, she was an incredibly lovely person. This Sunday will mark the ten years since she died, and it was nice to see that people are still celebrating her accomplishments and her life. We should all be so lucky.

Love It or Hate It… Today is the Day

Well My Friends, today is the day — St. Valentine's Day (see my Ode, above).

In my travels I've found that there are generally two schools of thought regarding this strange-but-here-we-are Holiday. People either adore it and look forward to it, or they despise it. It seems to draw a hard line between the camps and while I don't consider myself a wishy-washy person in general, I have to admit it: I'm a waffler on this one.

In my late teens and early twenties, I would not have been caught dead admitting that it is a fun, playful holiday. Long-stemmed, red roses and baby's breath would have had me running in the other direction. Admittedly, I'm still a little arrested regarding that poor baby's breath in the bouquet.

Of course later in life, I came to love Love. Heartfelt sentiment—no matter what the date—is always appreciated. Having spent the weekend helping my daughter with her Valentine's Day cards, it's sent me back to a time when Valentine's Day (in the States) was, for me, all cut-out paper doilies, red construction-paper hearts and glue. My husband and I were reminiscing about how as kids, we'd make these veryimportant decisions as to who gets what, and spend great amounts of energy and time choosing the perfect Valentine for your favorite people and friends. The Heart-Pockets hanging along the wall with your

classmates' names, and your own bounty at the end of the day was pure joy. And as I deep-down have always felt, it's always more fun as a "Friends Day". And personally, that seems to be where I am at today.

I was somewhat (darkly) amused to look into who Saint Valentine was, and it's remarkable that we've come to this current place. A quick search on Wikipedia pulls up this:

"... The first representation of Saint Valentine appeared in the Nuremberg Chronicle (1493); alongside the woodcut portrait of Valentine, the text states that he was a Roman priest martyred during the reign of Claudius II. He was arrested and imprisoned upon being caught marrying Christian couples and otherwise aiding Christians who were at the time being persecuted by Claudius in Rome. Helping Christians at this time was considered a crime. Claudius took a liking to this prisoner—until Valentinus tried to convert the Emporer—whereupon this priest was condemned to death. He was beaten with clubs and stoned; when that failed to kill him, he was beheaded outside the Flaminian Gate. Various dates are given for the martyrdoms. The official Roman Martyrology for February 14 mentions only one Saint Valentine."

I'm sorry—beheaded? Just an early example of religion, politics and love, I suppose.

One legend says, while awaiting his execution, "Valentinus restored the sight of his jailer's blind daughter." Another legend says, "On the eve of his death, he penned a farewell note to the jailer's daughter, signing it, "From your Valentine"." Okay, now we're getting a little closer to the "Be Mine" sentiments.

It was also found that in England and France of the Middle Ages, February 14 was believed to be the beginning of birds' mating season. This led to a tradition that romance should be celebrated in the middle of February. Valentine's Day began to flourish in England to the point where, by the 1700s, it was commonplace for people of all classes to exchange small gifts or handwritten notes to each other. During the Victorian era, mass-produced cards were popular forms of expressing love as direct expressions of one's feelings were discouraged.

Aha! Now it's coming together for me. The part about the feelings from the Fabulous Necco Candy Co.:

One of America's oldest candy companies, Necco, was founded in 1847 in Boston by Englishman Oliver Chase, who got the business off to a good start by inventing devices that cut candy lozenges and pulverized sugar. Necco first sold confections similar to Sweethearts, but in the shape of a scallop. Messages written on colored paper were tucked inside the fortune cookie-style candy. The lengthy, old-fashioned sayings included such wistful thoughts as, "Please send a lock of your hair by return mail.". Can you imagine that little message today?

Fourteen years later, Oliver's brother, Daniel, designed a machine that stamped words directly on to the candies with red vegetable dye. Hey! It's sort of like letterpress printing only in this case, the genius-that-is-Daniel designed a machine that can print and die-cut at the same time.

So, I'm not sure if all of the above helps or hurts your position but I will say that I hope that wherever you are and whomever you are with, that you have a lovely, heartfelt day.

xo Victoria

Sights And Smells

I remember when I first started apprenticing at Peter's shop. I would walk in and take in the veryspecificsmell that only a true working print shop has. It's ink and oil and centuries-old equipment and yes—I'm not going to lie—press cleaner. Your senses take in the smells and the sounds—each press speaking its own language, as it were. The sucker-sound of the Windmill, the churning sound of the Cylinder press, and the quick, snappy sound of the C & P. This is all part of the printing experience.

I was tidying up today and had a nice thought about how when I visit a friend's shop, I tend to look in their recycling bin to see what they've been up to. Always the finished product is so lovely, but as a fellow printer it's fun to see how they arrived to this point. An archeological dig, of sorts. I thought about my own studio and if you were to look in my recycling bin, you'd see a few versions of a raspberry ink color, printed on paper until it was just right. You'll see a few misses, where the registration was not quite right. There are off-cuts of papers and envelope liners and layers of all that goes into what my clients eventually get to see.

When I was a beginner, I was always dazzled by every single piece that came off of the press. There's so much that goes into printing before the paper is fed; careful design and platemaking or linoleum-cut making or hand-setting of the type. This is a very deliberate craft and I don't want to forget this feeling. In trying to recapture this, I took a snap of my dirty press and my waste bin (as of this morning). While I can't offer the sounds and smells through the web, please enjoy these quiet stills. It's all part of the process.

Blame The Printer

According to Wikipedia:

In the United States, Independence Day, commonly known as the Fourth of July, is a federal holiday commemorating the adoption of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776, declaring independence from the Kingdom of Great Britain. Congress approved the wording of the Declaration on July 4 and then sent it to the printer. Whether John Hancock, or anyone else signed the document that day is unknown, because that document has been lost—presumably destroyed in the printing process. Hancock's name and that of a witness do appear on the typeset broadside that was published within a few days.

The Dunlap broadsides were the first published copies of the United States Declaration of Independence, by John Dunlap of Philadelphia. On August 2 in the following month, an engrossed document in script form was signed by Hancock and other delegates.

{image above of Dunlap's broadside is from Wikipedia}

Happy Independence Day.