Showing posts with label Ashendene Press. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ashendene Press. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Breaking News from the Sixteenth Century: Typography Takes Off

by Alastair Johnston


Stan Knight, Historical Types (From Gutenberg to Ashendene), Oak Knoll Press, 2012, 104 pp., hardback in dust-jacket, $39.95

Historical Types is based on a smart concept: an annotated picture book of enlargements of typefaces to show how they really look. After all, type is that tiny code we look at without really seeing it: it gives meaning to thoughts, but we rarely give it a thought.

Obviously this approach -- enlarged images of letterforms with commentary -- has been a key part of modern typographic education. A lantern slide show by Emery Walker in 1888, given to the Arts & Crafts Exhibition Society in London, where he projected blown-up images of Jenson, Ratdolt and Rubeus pages, inspired William Morris to start his own press. Walker, a commercial photo-engraver, went into partnership with T J Cobden-Sanderson to start the celebrated Doves Press after Morris' death. Bruce Rogers, who also knew Walker, had photo-enlargements of the Jenson pages made to draw his Centaur type.

As a teacher I rely on large projected letterform details to explain their subtleties. I often use images from a wonderful article, "Photographic enlargements of type forms" by Philip Gaskell, that was published in the Journal of the Printing Historical Society, no 7, 1972 (and is missing from Knight's bibliography). Gaskell's photos, which were printed 5 times actual size, have proven enormously useful in discussing type design and its evolution and are a significant precursor to what Knight has done.

Two gros romain romans attributed to Claude Garamont, from Gaskell's article in Journal of the PHS, 1971. The top type, from 1530, has since been identified by Dr Vervliet as the work of Maître Constantin (from Virgil, Opera, Paris: Robert Estienne, 1532 [R115]); the lower type, from 1549 (as seen in Dionysius Halicarnassus, Scripta Omnia, Frankfurt: Andrea Wechel's heirs, 1586) is by Garamont [R118]

However didactic his aim, Knight has not achieved the same compression and intensity that Gaskell did (in 11 pages!), perhaps because his book is aimed halfway between scholars or students and a general audience. But Knight has provided accurate information on these typefaces. This may sound odd, given that so much has been written over the last five centuries about the legacy of Gutenberg, Fust & Schoeffer, Jenson, and so on.

Faustus and Chauffeur (dubious attribution)

But we have discovered a lot of it is speculative or inaccurate and we can no longer rely on Stanley Morison, Beatrice Warde and D B Updike for facts about the design of type. In discussing Ratdolt's work, Knight cites studies from 2009 and 2011 (showing how type scholarship is constantly evolving). Fortunately we have James Mosley, who teaches at Reading, Charlottesville (Virginia) & London Universities, formerly the Librarian of Saint Bride's in London, as a guiding light in the search for typographic truth. Mosley has been blogging about such matters since 2006. His "typefoundry" blog has been a great resource for Knight, particularly in the untangling of Jannon versus Garamond, the actual spelling of Garamont's name, and other details.

Many documents have appeared to further the historical discussion, from the series of Type Specimen Facsimiles (under the editorship of John Dreyfus from 1963 onward), to the exemplary Enschedé (1993) & Plantin-Moretus (2004) facsimiles edited by John Lane. Some of the older facsimile works could be revisited with the new approach heralded by Knight, for example the 1592 Egenolff-Berner specimen sheet which was reproduced in 1920 by Gustav Mori in collotype. That sheet was the first specimen broadside to clearly identify Garamond and Granjon as cutters of their types and, as it was printed from newly cast type, was the best possible source for modern interpretations: Adobe Garamond by Robert Slimbach (among others) was drawn from it.

But for most of the twentieth century Garamond revivals (and there have been roughly a zillion of them) were based on the wrong type: a poor imitation cut by Jean Jannon in the French province of Sedan in the 1620s. This typographic Lady Gaga, a tragi-comic homage to classic typefaces, should have been left in the dustbin of history but accidentally gained an important place in the story of type development, so Knight has included it. Also included is a text debunking many of the myths about Jannon and Garamond (thanks to Mosley's research). One of the most fanciful stories has Cardinal Richelieu's troops looting Jannon's types to bring them back to the Imprimerie nationale in Paris. This yarn was first spun by Beatrice Warde in 1926 and picked up by Warren Chappell in his Short History of the Printed Word. As late as 1999 Canadian poet Robert Boringhurst was embroidering the fable in his edition of Chappell's book (p. 148), saying that after Richelieu’s armies seized Jannon’s type they felt bad about it so they reimbursed him for them!

As technology improves it greatly assists us in seeing what we are looking at (though collotype mentioned above is hard to beat). Up to now many books on type have used small illustrations of large pages shrunk down, printed from line blocks. In the end you cannot see any details. So the next step is to do more books of this kind that show, as closely as possible, the impression and the texture of the paper, and more specialized books. Knight's previous book was Historical Scripts (also from Oak Knoll) with a similar hyper-visual approach to the history of calligraphy.

Hendrik Vervliet's recent three volumes on the Paleotypography of the French Renaissance have illustrations from Xerox copies and photostats. [Aside: I published Vervliet's monograph on Robert Granjon: Cyrillic & Oriental Typography in Rome at the End of the Sixteenth Century in 1979. We relied on Velox photostats from the Vatican for illustrations, which were so poor, some were even out of focus, but how do you tell the Vatican their reproductive services are lacking?] Vervliet's images (many composites to show full character sets) were painstakingly assembled over decades and often Xerox was the only service available. It would be a useful task for someone to give the blow-up treatment (shot in high resolution with raking light to show the impression, as well as the paper surface) to his studies (now that we have the key data assembled), and then move into the following centuries. 

Garamont's gros romain roman [R118] from the 1599 Le Bé-Moretus specimen shown in Vervliet, French Renaissance Printing Types, 2010, p. 193

Nevertheless Vervliet's work is the major contribution to the field in the last half century. So it's great to see late-breaking news from the sixteenth century when Knight reproduces a page of revolutionary new type from Henri Estienne (previously attributed to Garamond [see top illustration]) and, thanks to Vervliet, we now have to acknowledge the shadowy Maître Constantin for this massive step-forward in the Aldine style which revolutionized roman letterforms across Europe.

Claude Garamont's gros romain roman as seen in Les Vies des hommes illustres, Paris: Vascosan, 1559, shown in Knight (p. 41)

I myself have done a little work in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries but that indicated to me how much more needs to be done. Knight himself admits this is just a start: "Some worthy type designers like Pierre Haultin, Hendrik van den Keere, and Antoine Augereau are missing. But as well as the more famous names of Gutenberg, Granjon, and Bodoni, I have been able to include some lesser-known designers like Erhard Ratdolt, Simon de Colines, Johann Fleischman, and Alexander Phemister."

While to me there seem to be some close calls on who got omitted versus who got in, I think the general reader will enjoy the familiar mixed with the more exotic. The reader may balk at the name Miklós Tótfalusi Kis and be unaware that they have been lôôking at his type and versions of it all their lives.

I am sorry there is such a sadly inevitable bias towards the private press movement at the end of this study. There is certainly enough about William Morris, Cobden-Sanderson and St John Hornby out there in bibliomundo. A page on their cutter Edward Prince could have covered all of them (and freed up two pages). The Ashendene Subiaco type is a joke, or at best a footnote to the Sweynheym & Pannartz page; Eric Gill's Golden Cockerel type would have made a nicer terminus to the work. Otherwise, moving from Fournier to Bodoni is a big leap without including both Bodoni's early types that were imitation Fournier and the truly revolutionary types of Firmin Didot (which were cut by Pierre Wafflard). There is no easily accessible text in English which covers these most important steps forward in type design. William Martin (1757–1830) and Vincent Figgins (1766–1844) would have been solid inclusions and, despite most modern typographers' disdain for the excesses of the Victorian period, it cannot be ignored, but Phemister is the sole representative. (However, he and 26 other nineteenth-century type-cutters are covered in William Loy's book Nineteenth-century American Designers & Engravers of Type [Oak Knoll Press, 2009].)

In compressing info Knight has mixed up the legacy of Caslon: Mrs Elizabeth Caslon did not start the H W Caslon Foundry, that was 30 years later, and I really don't agree with using italic parentheses! For the most part the photos are excellent and give us true insight into the intricacies of these typefaces.

For all of its superficial appearance as a "coffee-table" book on printing types with pretty pictures, Knight's work is a solid piece of scholarship and corrects a lot of misconceptions found in "standard" texts that give a resumé of the development of printing types.
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Tuesday, October 19, 2010

"Men Are Wicked But Their Books Are Good"

By Cokie Anderson


The magnum opus of the Ashendene Press, Dante's Tutte le Opere


The three great English private presses are considered to be the Kelmscott Press of the bohemian and socialist William Morris, the Doves Press of the eccentric and volatile T. J. Cobden-Sanderson, and The Ashendene Press of the astonishingly normal Charles Harry St. John Hornby (1867-1946).

The press was founded by Hornby as a hobby and named after the location of his family home in Hertfordshire. It issued 40 books, plus additional ephemeral pieces, from 1895-1935, pausing production only during the years of the Great War. Originally the work was done by Hornby, his sisters and, upon his marriage, his wife, Cicely Barclay - truly a family affair.


The Ashendene printer's device motto reads "Les hommes sont meschants mais leurs livres sont bons"
(“Men are wicked but their books are good”).


Less elaborate in appearance and design than William Morris' Kelmscott volumes, but more ornamental than the products of Cobden-Sanderson's Doves Press, the Ashendene books have long been considered the most satisfying of English private press books. Hornby’s considerable achievement in design and printing is all the more impressive when one considers that he had a full-time, demanding, and successful career with the bookseller W. H. Smith, then as now one of the largest chains of booksellers in the U. K.




It was Hornby who changed the focus of the Smith’s retail operations from stalls within the railway stations to shops, conveniently located very close to the stations. The railroad companies had demanded an outrageous increase in rent, which Hornby refused to accept. According to the DNB, “Hornby, anticipating the possible loss of the contracts, had set men scouting for possible shop sites, but it was still a considerable challenge to transfer so many of the firm's outlets while keeping the daily business of newspaper distribution running smoothly. Hornby relished a challenge: in ten weeks, 144 new shops were opened on the territory of the two railway companies. This most dramatic episode in the firm's history pointed the way to the future structure of its business, centred on shops rather than stalls, and established Hornby's position as the strategist of the firm.”


The Divine Comedy, in Subiaco type. Woodcut of the Gates of Hell.

In his spare time, as a form of relaxation, Hornby was creating some of the loveliest books of the 20th century. He sought the assistance of his friends Sydney Cockerell and Emery Walker, who created two memorable typefaces for his: Subiaco, based on the first roman typeface, the famous font used by Sweynheym and Pannartz at the press they established in 1465 in Subiaco, about 30 miles north of Rome, and Ptolemy, derived from the font used for the 1482 Ptolemy printed in Ulm.


The Ninth Circle of Hell, from Inferno


The books Hornby chose to print included excerpts from the Bible, essays by Francis Bacon, works by classical authors, and Italian literature, much beloved by Hornby. Two of the highlights of the press were the three-volume edition of Dante’s Divine Comedy and the folio-sized complete works of the Italian poet (“Tutte le Opere), both in Italian. The former was illustrated with delicate woodcuts here were drawn by R. Catterson Smith and cut by Charles Keates (with some assistance from W. H. Hooper) after the Venetian Dante of Petrus de Quarengiis of 1497. Fellow printer Emily Daniel of the Daniel Press wrote to Hornby, "I think it is the most beautiful modern book I have ever seen."

From Tutte le Opere

"Tutte le Opere" is considered not only the most impressive and important of Ashendene publications, but also one of the outstanding works of 20th century printing. In fact, the Ashendene Dante, the Doves Press Bible, and the Kelmscott Press Chaucer have been called the "triple crown of fine press printing." Franklin writes that "this first major folio from the Ashendene Press has always occupied the summit," and Charles M. Gere's illustrations, inspired by works of the early Renaissance, suit the spirit of Dante perfectly.


Typical Ashendene bindings, vellum with silk ties


Most Ashendene books were bound very simply in flexible vellum, with gilt titling on the spine and silk ribbons (usually green) that could be used to keep them tied shut. Occasionally the vellum would be dyed green or orange. A few works, among the the Cervantes and the Thucydides, were issued in white pigskin.

Deluxe Ashendene bindings


St. John (pronounced "Sinjin", in marvelously British fashion) Hornby proved that it is possible to create great art while still working full time in the mundane world of commerce, that it is possible to create great art while having a normal family life, that it is not necessary to be a tortured soul languishing in an attic or one's parents' basement. The soul of the artist does not have to be crushed by the routine of 9 to 5; creativity can soar in spite of that. I like to think of him as the patron saint of every artist, writer, and artisan who does what is necessary to provide for themselves and their families while never losing sight of their vision and remaining true to their art. So if you're sitting at your desk thinking of the novel you'd rather be writing, the painting or scupture you'd like to be working on, or the hand-crafted book you want to print, take heart. You can do that, too. St. John has shown us the way.

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Images courtesy of Phillip J. Pirages Fine Books & Manuscripts
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Thursday, September 16, 2010

The "Other Man" Behind the Private Press Movement

Walker, photographed by George Bernard Shaw.
Photo courtesy of the Emery Walker Trust



Many people have heard of William Morris. Those with an interest in fine printing or fine binding will know the names of St. John Hornby and T. J. Cobden-Sanderson. Few, however, remember the man who had more influence on the design of modern books than any of these great craftsmen: Sir Emery Walker (1851–1933). Walker was the son of a coachbuilder, and left school at 13 to support his family after his father went blind. He did not have the advantage of an Oxford education or of a comfortable middle-class upbringing. He was, however, smart and talented, with a keen sense of aesthetics. In the early 1870s, he found his calling when he went to work for Alfred Dawson, a printed who had perfected a new method of etching called glyptography. Walker worked for Dawson's Typographic Etching Company for 10 years, before leaving in 1883 to start his own firm of "process and general engravers, draughtsmen, map-constructors, and photographers of works of art."

Hammersmith Terrace. Photo courtesy of the Emery Walker Trust

Walker's new office and house were in Hammersmith Terrace, a riverside neighborhood in London that was also home to William Morris. The two men discovered shared interest in socialism and craftsmanship which led to a lifelong friendship. Both were active in the Hammersmith Socialist Society and were founders of the influential Arts and Crafts Exhibition Society. Walker was especially fond of the rare books known as incunabula, meaning they were printed before 1500.

A Leaf from a Bible printed by Nicolaus Jenson in 1476

According to the Emery Walker Trust, "A lecture given by Walker in 1888 at which he projected magic-lantern slides of photographs he had taken of 15th-century typefaces gave Morris the idea for the last great project of his life, the Kelmscott Press." Walker declined to be a partner in the press, citing "'some sense of proportion' and no capital to risk." (DNB) However, he acted as an unofficial advisor to the press throughout Morris' life.

The English Bible from the Doves Press

In 1900, Walker joined with bookbinder T. J. Cobden-Sanderson to found the Doves Press as a vehicle for the production of the "Book Beautiful." Unlike the productions of the Kelmscott or Ashendene presses, Doves books had no illustrations or decoration other than the occasional very simple hand-painted initial, as seen on the opening page of the Doves Bible, above. As Cave says, the Doves Press books, "completely without ornament or illustration, . . . depended for their beauty almost entirely on the clarity of the type, the excellence of the layout, and the perfection of the presswork."


A closer view of the Doves type


The Doves type, renowned for its beauty and readability, was designed by Walker, based on the typography of the 15th century Venetian printer Nicolas Jenson. The eccentric Cobden-Sanderson was not the easiest person to get along with, and in 1909 a bitter disagreement between the two founders caused Walker to leave the press. Cobden-Sanderson carried on alone until 1916 when, after shutting down the press, he committed one of the greatest crimes in the history of typography: he threw all of Walker's gorgeous Doves type into the Thames, so it could never be used by anyone else (particularly Walker).

The Ashendene Dante, printed in Walker's Subiaco type

Luckily, other examples of Walker's fine typograhics designs live on, notably in two fonts he designed for the Ashendene Press, the Subiaco (based on that of 15th century printers Sweynham and Pannartz, and the Ptolemy, based on 15th German type. However, as the DNB notes, "his great reputation among students of typography rests on a far wider basis, for he was keenly preoccupied with the appearance of the everyday book, and not only with its rich relations. It is scarcely too much to say that his influence, direct or indirect, can be discerned in nearly every well-designed traditional typographical page that now appears, and that to him more than to any other man the twentieth century's great improvement in book production in Britain was due. Walker's exacting taste demanded close, even typesetting, perfect harmony between text and illustration, and excellent materials."

Sir Emery Walker.
Photo courtesy of the Emery Walker Trust


The three ideal examples of modern typography are considered to be the Kelmscott Chaucer, the Doves Bible, and the Ashendene Dante. Walker inspired the first, printed the second, and designed the type for the third. He also went on to print an number of fine books at his own press, including a translation of Homer by Lawrence of Arabia. He was a modest man who did not trumpet his own achievements, and readers today who appreciate a well-designed page are unaware that they owe a debt to this genius of typography.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Typography Geeks and Font Snobs

 
Are you one of those people who check the colophon of the bestseller you just finished reading to see what type was used? Me too!! Do you also lose all respect for people who use Comic Sans in professional presentations? It's like we were separated at birth. Knowing geeks in both the book world and in the digital domain, I know people who will almost come to blows over typeface choices. There are situations where you cannot even bring up Comic Sans MS without starting a fight.

The most recent issue of the Fine Press Book Association's journal Parenthesis contains an article on typography design that made me think about typefaces designed by printers long dead that influence our lives today. When you pull down the font menu in your word processing program, you may see fonts named Caslon or Baskerville. Both are named for important English printers.

William Caslon (1692-1766) was an influential English typeface designer (and gunsmith) whose Caslon Foundry produced the type that was used for the first printed version of the Declaration of Independence. Variations of his attractive serif font are still in common usage.

Specimens of Caslon Typeface

John Baskerville (1706-75) followed in Caslon's footsteps, developing new styles of type and printing, and developing a process to make paper smoother and whiter, the better to display his crisp black type.



Remember John the next time you choose Baskerville Old Face from your font menu.

The Industrial Revolution in the 19th century resulted in mass produced typefaces and poorer quality printing that offended the sensibilities of some, among them William Morris, leader of the Arts and Crafts movement in England. Morris, seeking a return to the proud artisan tradition of such early printers as Nicolas Jenson and Sweynham & Pannartz, founded the Kelmscott Press to produce beautiful books printed with handset types he designed himself.


Kelmscott books were printed in three great fonts: Golden (designed for and named for Voragine's The Golden Legend), Troy, a black-letter or Gothic-style typeface, and Chaucer, the typeface used in Kelmscott's greatest production, Chaucer's Canterbury Tales.

Friends of Morris also founded private presses and designed their own typefaces. Charles Harry St. John Hornby and his wife Cecily established the Ashendene Press, where they resurrected the beautiful Subiaco typeface used by the early Venetian printers Sweynham & Pannartz.

The Ashendene Press Life of St Francis of Assisi



Type designer and illustrator Eric Gill worked at the Golden Cockerel Press, creating typefaces and woodcuts for what was the greatest private press in the period between the two world wars. When you review your font choices in your favorite word processing program, you are likely to see at least two of Gill's creations, Gill Sans and the lovely Perpetua, my personal favorite font.


Perhaps the greatest typography geek and font snob of them all was Doves Press founder Thomas James Cobden-Sanderson. C-S had already established a name for himself as a bookbinder when he decided to venture into printing as well. He collaborated with Emery Walker, an engraver who had an impressive collection of 15th century typefaces. Together they developed the beautful Doves type, one of the greatest typographic achievements of the modern age. Below is a picture of the opening page of the Doves Bible, one of the three greatest private press books (the other two being the Kelmscott Chaucer and the Ashendene Dante).


Like the classic English eccentric he was, Cobden-Sanderson decided he could not let his typeface be abandoned to the use of the undeserving when he shut down the Doves Press in 1916. Rather than let it fall into the wrong hands, he walked out onto Hammersmith Bridge in London and threw all of the type into the Thames.

The next time you find yourself cornered by typography geeks at a bookish cocktail party, all you have to do is say, "Which was better, the Subiaco type or the Doves?" You can safely slip away while the font snobs battle it out. Don't bother to thank me. Just avoid using Comic Sans in professional correspondence and I'll consider us even.
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Images courtesy of WikiCommons.

 
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