Silent Printer

A dish of elderflower cordial to share with all those with whom I used to communicate on a reasonably regular basis but have hidden away from for far too long! I am so sorry. I am not going to attempt excuses or even explanations. It is just that this exquisite month has swung the balance so spectacularly away from the horrors of the winter that pleasure in life returns and (almost) some creativity. I am happily battling away with writing, photographing and laying out the second Bibliography and working on a programme of books to print, which may be somewhat shorter and maybe simpler than in earlier years but it will keep me happy and busy and will, I am sure, produce some worthwhile additions to the catalogue.




Here is my OFFICE and my WORKSHOP! Not true, of course but I have to say that a goodly amount of time this month has been spent here (I insist on referring to it as my 'stately pleasure-dome'!) or elsewhere out of doors . . . depending on strength and direction of sun and other important details!

"Ee says to me . . . and I says to 'im"

A few more transfigured trees . . .

"Never knowingly understood"

The photograph immediately above will be instantly recognizable (to all that have fallen under his spell over the years) as Ivor Cutler . . . of blessed memory. The, probably unfinished, portrait above was painted by Hans Schwarz (who was a neighbour and purveyor of weird and wonderful prints, books, antiques and all sorts when we lived in Blackheath during our 'life' in London) and discovered by us recently.

Here are a couple more photographs of the great man whom I first saw in 1963 in London's Comedy Theatre at An Evening of British Rubbish with Bruce Lacey (with his robots) and The Alberts. His long-faced songs, unique Scottish accent and tortured portable harmonium combined to keep me (and thousands of others) in stitches of laughter.

A song entitled "Shoplifters" involved (naturally) a request to know whether you would like your shop lifted - high, up in the sky.








I now get to the reason for this post. A number of years ago Frances and I were part of a Private Press Book Fair being held in The Royal Festival Hall. Suddenly I looked up and realized that Ivor (or Mister Cutler as he insisted with a twinkle on being addressed by those he had not been introduced to) Cutler was walking down the aisle straight towards us. I was instantly turned to jelly. I almost ran away and perhaps that would have been better than the ludicrously awful performance of shyness and nerves that I subjected the poor man to. Believe me, it was dreadful. He was most understanding.

The next year, the same event happened again and there was Mr Cutler bearing down upon us. This time, the dear man came straight up to me, shook my hand and suggested a little walk. We walked and talked and ended up in The Poetry Library (which used to be within the RFH) and compared notes on poets we liked. Then he was on his way leaving me to realize that this whole exercise had been to put me at my ease and to expunge my blithering idiotness of last year.

He did also introduce us to the wallet which contained his famous Able-label 'publications' and he handed over to us ones that he thought we would enjoy. I have always thought this one of the most powerful publishing formats ever devised and a study of the internet shows that there are many others who treasure the tiny tracts that were solemnly handed to them.

As one and then another were passed to us, Frances said she was sad not to have something to give to him. He retorted that he did not give things to be given something back and that Frances looked the sort of person who would appreciate the gift and share it with others.

We kept the treasures in a pot on our mantlepiece and they came out regularly to be shown to visitors. About a year ago I looked in the pot and found nothing. Had some over-zealous cleaner (which we do not have) thrown them away? No amount of searching revealed them.

Then suddenly, just the other day, when looking for something quite other, there they were . . . 'tidied away'. They are now safely returned to the pot to delight suitable visitors but also I was able to photograph them. I hope this shot can be clicked big enough to allow you to read every word.

And yet . . .

. . . having said so firmly that I was not going to 'traipse round with my camera', today was so deliciously lovely that I couldn't resist! I will just let these images speak for themselves on the subject of the piece of heaven in which we are lucky enough to live. Small wonder that an old name for this corner of the Wye Valley was "God's Pocket".

Transfiguration

The dramatic blast and whoosh of Spring this month (despite jackets and heating still being needed the moment the sun goes behind a cloud) has been so universally felt and talked about that I do not feel a traipse round the garden with a camera would add very much to this blog or to the world at large.

And yet I feel it SO fiercely. The winter we have just gone through was so cold and dark, metaphorically for us as well as meteorologically, that I despaired of ever being returned to the light.

But the Green Man finally began to stir and some brave birds began to challenge the darkness with a tentative chorus at dawn. Now there is an ecstasy of song from every bush and yesterday we saw three martins flying, although they have not yet returned to our nests. The sunlight lays open the unimaginably youthful greens of the trees and it is this one sight that I have tried to capture - to stand for all the rest.

This Aspen is my favourite tree. It looks wonderful, it sounds wonderful and we planted it!

Abstracts at the seaside

He's been at it again!
Down to Pembrokeshire we went, the moment a big sun showed up on the online weather forecasts for more than an hour or two at a time. Wonderfully restorative. Snow? What snow?





It is frustrating not to be able to paint pictures like this but very exciting to see them literally lying around on the beach waiting to be discovered and recorded.

Click to increase the size of these canvasses!


































This is my favourite. It is called "Sand, historic coal traces and an action-painting dog"!

One tiddler does not a fish supper make . . .

. . . but this poor little creature (help came too late, I am afraid) is the very first to have been discovered on our riverside field!

High tide this morning and a lot of rain on previous days so the river overran its banks. Our small friend must have swum happily into this gentle new backwater and got left high and dry

HERE

where the arrow points!

Renewed elegance for our Website

It seems (was) aeons ago that we first dreamed of having a website but wondered who would have the knowledge and experience to work the dark arts but be sensitive enough to avoid the cheap and garish excesses that, even then, tended to make web surfing a less than relaxing activity.

As we have mentioned before, the answer came somewhat laterally when we saw a small site (later it would have been a Blog) put up by our long-standing friend Michael Hutchins as a means of sending news and images to friends and family back home while he was in Australia. We were amazed and delighted by the simplicity and understated elegance of these pages but hardly surprised given the fact that Michael had been a letterpress man for ever and the screens had been designed in the same way as pages from his beautiful Chimaera Press books.

Thus it was that we became fortunate enough to have Michael design our site, its basic structure and its content. First one or two photographs were posted on pages about our books but, as the wizardry advanced, we put up more sophisticated 'movies' which enable people to study a decent sample of one or all of our books. The next best thing to handling them.

Over the years, people have gone out of their way to compliment us on our website and to say that it was easy to navigate, helpful and friendly. Over the years, it has also to be said, the number of new 'friends' that have come to us via the internet, from whatever starting point and by whatever route, has greatly outnumbered those who have arrived in more traditional ways.

The last few years have, sadly, been cruel to Michael and his family in various ways and we agreed recently that he did not any longer need the added burden of looking after the OSP site.

SO, we set off to find a new webmaster who would invest the site with some fresh mechanisms and enhanced staging devices but would retain, most importantly of all, the simplicity that people have so liked.

Enter Sally Wakelin . . . or, rather, Sally came on the scene some time ago and has been working away sharing modified pages with us in a way that no one else can see!

At the start of this, albeit faltering, Spring, the cover is whisked off and you can explore the new-look 'early' pages, menus and so on. Although the design has been agreed for the 'Book Pages' (see EQUUS), the rest of these pages have yet to be modified. This will take place as quickly as possible. Sally and we very much hope that you will not be troubled with broken links or other teething troubles but please tell us if you come across any or if you have any suggestions or criticisms.

We are so very much indebted to Michael for all that he has done . . . and already very grateful to Sally for pitching in with such vigour and imagination.

www.oldstilepress.com

Lithographs from the 'fifties

I was recently rambling round the website of a friendly art dealer and identified a couple of lithographs dating from the mid- (nineteen) fifties and deliciously redolent of the period. I did not recognize either of the names involved, but that did not seem to matter very much when put beside the deliciousness of the prints themselves.

The dealer kindly came to see us and brought the two lithos (along with, I confess, one or two other delights) and the prints showed themselves to be as full of life and zest as we had thought. He revealed that these two had been part of a folder of c.10 which he had acquired. We agreed that the most probable source was an art college of the period and this was student work. The fact that two of them had the words "Intermediate Lithograph" written on them seems to underwrite that theory. In the end the dealer said that, as we had paid for the two best and he felt the the folder might best be kept together, he would like us to have the lot. What a star!

But we know nothing more about them. They are all clearly dated 1955-58 but there is no indication of a College or anything else. I'd love to know . . . so, with no great amount of hope of unearthing the pin from this particular hay stack, I will add a list of the people who signed the prints, in case the group of names stimulates the memory of some old alumnus or some lecturer recognizes a particular style of a particular College of the day.

That would be fun but I don't mind at all if nothing comes of the quest. I, at school at that time, was loving books full of images like this and seeing such lithographs in Lyons' Corner Houses and so on, and I just think they are glorious.




































The names: M. Whittaker, R. Swift, Noel Kenning, D.J.Murphy and a number by Anon!.