PRINTING, PRINTING, ALL DAY PRINTING.
I have begun my printing and binding of the three books, one for each artist/collaboration. I am making ten copies of each book, each as a single section binding. But there is the common problem of size…the size. I am worried that my books are too small. I am worried that they will shrink into obscurity when put on plinths. Do I make them all again, or will that crush my spirit completely?
I am also now worried about using Helvetica. This most mundane of details troubles me at night. American typewriter takes my fancy most evenings. Does it make writing seem slightly more ad-hoc, perhaps coming from a more studious angle? EEEEEEEK. BRAGGADOCIO. THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I’VE EVER WRITTEN USING THIS TYPE. It SCREAMS. But’s it has been done hasn’t it? It reeks of faux-trendy exhibition posters advertising a ‘genuine vintage experience.’ You’d think I was doing a typography degree. But I’m not.
I have got through 8 ink cartridges for my printer so far, and am pleased to report that it is taking pride of place on my desk. Papers surround this temporary shrine to my insanity, while scraps of letraset, book cloth and string cling on at the edges. I have also grown to love Grafik magazine, even if we do have to a slightly masochistic relationship. I whimper into my coffee as I flick through pages showing glossy design companies’ books and exhibition catalogues. I wonder if it might have been more profitable to whore myself out for a couple of months to afford a proper designer. Do I really need to be making the books myself? After all, its not about the craft, its about the concept isn’t it? Or so I hear.
