The Independent Publishing Resource Center has been Portland’s beloved center of the D.I.Y. publishing community since 1998.

I spoke with Rebecca Gilbert, co-founder and original director of the IPRC, about the history of the center, Portland’s indie publishing scene since the mid 1990s, and her role in Portland’s print community.

Where did the idea for opening the IPRC come from? Was it inspired by a space in another city, or a previously existing space in Portland? If so, tell us a little bit about the time leading up to opening.

Shortly after Reading Frenzy [a Portland art & small press bookstore] opened in 1994, I started volunteering there. It was in a very small space on SE Hawthorne, and then moved downtown into the space where it is now. I was volunteering there at least once a week, hanging art shows & working behind the counter. I think everybody who was volunteering at Reading Frenzy then would say that one of the most popular questions at the time was…”I really want to publish a zine. How do I get started?” So we found ourselves being the help desk for How To Publish a Zine. Which was fun, but there came a time when we wished there was somewhere we could just send people. We wanted to be able to say “Go here, and they’ll help you.” 

Old-school flier

How did it come about being located in the Pacific Building?

The idea for a zine publishing space was circulated for probably a year, and then Chloe Eudaly [owner of Reading Frenzy] ended up getting an office upstairs from Reading Frenzy, in the North Pacific Building, and we agreed to share it. It was my studio, and her office for the store. I was just out of school, and so I was working part-time at a print shop, doing workshops in the local schools, working for Powells Internet division, and making my own book arts work, trying to figure out what I was going to do next. 

After discussing it for awhile, we thought we’d turn our studio/office into a place that people could go when they asked that question ‘How do I publish a zine?’ We realized that we already had almost all the tools we’d need. We had a small computer (one of those early Apple MacIntosh computers with the square bottom unit!), we had typewriters, we had glue sticks, we had our own personal zine collections (which were pretty big at that point), we had workbenches, and we had lots of clip art, collage materials, art supplies, and tools. 

Did you open at that original space, as the IPRC?

Our first space was on the 3rd floor in a room that was 300 square feet, with a fire escape. It was a long narrow, rectangular room. There were great double windows that opened onto the fire escape, so you could sit on it and overlook Burnside. Here’s a rough floor plan, as best I can remember:

On-the-fly sketch

We had the zine library in crates, just stacked. A file cabinet. Two work benches, end to end, but against the wall with shelves underneath for flat material storage. We had a desk, with a computer on it. Shelves up on the walls. That was it. No photocopier initially, but as the space developed people donated all sorts of items that were helpful. Eventually it came to house a copier, two tabletop presses and a cabinet or two of letterpress type, bookshelves, and a couple long folding tables, and a big stuffed reading chair, in addition to all our original stuff. 

The original IPRC space

Has it always been a nonprofit organization?

The IPRC was not always a non-profit, but we did incorporate pretty early on. Initially we set up informal networking groups. They would happen in the space or in Reading Frenzy, about once a month. We had a Zine Publishers Potluck, where we would invite all the zine publishers we came in contact with or knew. We would do a little introduction and then just encourage the 10-20 people who came to socialize while they enjoyed the food. We had a Book Arts Group where we’d all make a book every month, related to a certain theme, and then everyone would exchange the edition. In those small networking groups we asked participants “How could we make a center that would work? What would it be?”

 So you were holding these events in your office space, and in the store, and were wanting to open things up more beyond your friends and self-publishing peers.

Out of those conversations and others, we formed our initial working board. There were 5 of us that served as Incorporating board members—as far as the 501(c)(3) went—Brian Bagdonas, Chloe Eudaly, K.T. Kinney, Amy Joy Tuepker and myself. Edith Abeyta, who previously owned Printed Matter in Albuquerque was an initial volunteer and organizer, though she decided not to sit on the Board. She donated the whole Printed Matter archive plus her personal collection, then set up the catalogue and library database. Dan Howland was also a regular volunteer at the beginning and up until a couple years ago.

The resource & workspace center idea seemed like a nonprofit purpose, and none of us could imagine making a for-profit venture out of it, so we pursued official 501(c)(3) status with the assistance of Kohel Haver’s legal expertise. The directors of Write Around Portland, Ben Moorad and Liza Halley, had also just finished incorporating their organization and were very helpful in sharing information. I guess we felt like our organization fell in line with a lot of other literary or artistic groups in Portland, who were all registered as non-profits. 

The process of establishing a non-profit organization did help give us a reason to come up with a structure for the organization, we had to think of all the programming in terms of it’s educational value and public accessibility. We all wanted to make sure that the resources were affordable, and that we weren’t repeating services already offered by other organizations in town. We wanted it to become more than a place where our friends could gather, but serve a larger purpose.

How did the organization work in the early days? I don’t imagine a lot of money was floating around.

When we first rented that space and started the organization, everyone just pitched in for rent every month. The rent was $210 a month, I think, with utilities included. Initially Chloe and I split that, and then the Board split it. We paid that way until we got our first grant, which was a Literary Arts Fellowship for Publishers award for $1,000. Almost a half year of rent! We didn’t have many other costs at that point, so that was pretty magical. We did charge a yearly user fee, the same as it’s set up now, but back then it was $20 for a year. Library use was free, as it is now. We had a little less than 100 members that first year, if I recall correctly. That helped us cover operations. People donated materials and services, and we got along on volunteer workshop instructors and occasional purchases of glue sticks, stamp pads or paper stock.

A member binding zines with needle and thread. 2011.

I get a sense these days, as a volunteer for the last two years– and I’m sort of “old hat” now, having been involved that long– that these days the IPRC is a very, very “open” community. It’s not “tight.”

It hasn’t always been like that, though that was our intention. It’s extremely satisfying to know that it has gone beyond that original group of zine publishers or comic publishers, and expanded to feel open & accepting. A lot of that has to do with the number of years the IPRC has been around, and the amount of work that Justin Hocking [current IPRC Director] has done and that Pablo de Ocampo [previous IPRC Director] did before him, to just reach out into different communities. Bringing youth in on a regular basis, and now running the new certificate program, have certainly helped expand the user base of the IPRC. That kind of increased programming brings a lot of people through who didn’t have access before or didn’t realize that they would want to use the resources. 

The famed IPRC yard sale, scrapbook excerpt

My introduction to the IPRC was through reading autobiographical comics by Portlanders from the early-2000s, and a “Zinester Clubhouse” was definitely the impression I got of the place.

For a number of years, through the time when I was Director, and at least part of the time Pablo was Director, there were a lot of the same characters putting in many hours to make the IPRC work. There might be someone new moving to town or someone taking a workshop that had never been there before, but on a daily basis if you came into the Center you would see the same people there all the time. We had volunteers who worked the same volunteer shift for five or six years, once a week. Plus they’d come by a night or two otherwise just to hang out with the person working that shift and work on their publishing projects. That cultivated a tight knit group. I think it was a constant struggle to keep it feeling like it was an open space and not just belonging to a few people. We had complaints about that a lot at the beginning– very real concerns. So despite the fact that we all wanted the IPRC to be a publicly accessible place, the fact that 10 or 20 people were putting in a lot more hours there resulted in a little more of a clubhouse feel. It also resulted in some marvelous collaborations, influenced people’s career paths and cultivated long-term relationships. 

Early on in the current space, a staff meeting

The production room. Current space. 2011.

Can you tell us about the IPRC’s letterpress print shop (did you start it, was it the original group, was it even always a part of the center?), and how those various tabletop presses and sets of type came to be in that tiny room?

Both Brian (Bagdonas, fellow founder of Stumptown Printers) and I were working as printers and were really interested in adding letterpress capabilities to the IPRC, so people could use them to print covers for their zines, promotional postcards, bookmarks, or whatever they could think of. I think the first tabletop presses (both Kelsey 5×8′s) were donated in 2000. They came from a woman who’s husband was one of the first CEO’s of Tektronix, and whose hobby as a young boy was to produce a neighborhood newsletter on a similar press. The presses were really rusty, but once we cleaned them up and purchased new rollers, they were functional.  Presses and type continued to be donated or purchased for reduced rates from local and regional printers who were in support of the IPRC’s mission, often because of referrals through Oregon College of Art & Craft or the Pacific Northwest College of Art. The sign press was donated by Friendly House, I believe, as they were no longer using it. 

The room the press equipment is in currently used to be the offices for Write Around Portland (WRAP), we moved them in there when WRAP moved upstairs in the North Pacific Building. Previously, the press room was where the administrative offices now are. 

Cleaning presses, back in the day.

A member setting type in the print shop. 2011.

The IPRC’s letterpress classes and relatively open shop, as well as the exposure I had to many packages & posters that Stumptown has printed, were an enormous part of why I became interested in lettepress. I imagine that similar cases are true for many Portlanders, and that work you’ve done has directly influenced Portland’s penchant for letterpress. How did you come into being a printer, working in Portland, and making a life out of it?

I moved to Portland in 1994 to attend PNCA as a transfer student in Graphic Design. I have always had a particular interest in typography, so my eventual pursuit of printing, and particularly letterpress printing is not too far off. I modified my degree at PNCA to include courses at OCAC, with a focus on publication design. This also drew in my experiences as a zine publisher, and allowed me to delve into book arts and printing as part of my studies. As a student of design I was required to complete an internship, so I approached fellow Vermonter Pete McCracken about working with him at Crack Press on some digital type design. In the course of the internship, I discovered I was much more interested in the physical nature of type than the digital version, so began working on his press equipment to learn more about letterpress printing. That led to part-time contracted work as a printer for Crack Press, and then ultimately to my establishing Stumptown Printers with brothers Eric & Brian Bagdonas. I’ve been lucky in that my lifestyle and career choices have worked out so far. Stumptown Printers has been around for 12 years now, and we continue to enjoy what we do and value the people we work with.

It’s nice to think that through the IPRC and our work at Stumptown Printers we are a part of encouraging and supporting a vibrant printing community in Portland. I really think that Barb Tetenbaum and Inge Bruggeman at OCAC have especially done a lot to encourage the growth of this community as well. Now with Em Space and the C.C. Stern Type Foundry (a newer non-profit organization I’m involved in), I hope that we can continue to emphasize the practice of quality creative printing and the use of hand set type, and to value the tradition of printing and it’s practitioners. 

Rebecca on WW cover. Remember the 90s?

The computer lab, dubbed "The Yeti Research Center." 2011.

How do you think the IPRC has benefited, or at least changed, Portland? Both for artists and for the general public.

I think it’s amazing that the IPRC has grown so far beyond our original limited vision of the purpose it would serve. It has been the birthplace of many a publishing venture, small creative business, and long-term romance. There are people who started printing at the IPRC who have gone on to study at OCAC or get a degree from another Book Arts program. There are people who published their first zine at the Center and now run small publishing houses. There are volunteers who discovered their passion for teaching and organizing through work with the outreach programming.  There are teenagers who found a voice through the IPRC programming. I think that because it has lasted and adapted as an organization, it serves as an example for those who are interested in starting other DIY institutions. There are still calls and emails from all over the country from people who want to know how to start something similar where they live. Hopefully it has offered the public a space encouraging of creativity and new pursuits related to publishing independent media and art, and skills to get there. And I hope it has become a staple in the culture of Portland, another among the literary and artistic organizations that help define this city’s quality of life. 

Profile from the WW

The front door of their North Portland shop.

Stumptown Printers is a letterpress and offset print shop in Portland, OR. Started in 1999, they are most well known for their enigmatic media packaging.

I spoke to Eric Bagdonas, who co-founded the shop with his brother, Bryan Bagdonas, and Rebecca Gilbert. We talked about the history of the shop, Portland’s print scene, print in the 20th and 21st centuries, and much more.

Will you write us two word-polaroids of Stumptown Printers? One from the year you started, and the other from today.

From when we started in 1999: Chief 17 and Kluge after hours club, the nearby Hawthorne Bridge was still yellow and rickety, Martha Stewart still hadn’t discovered letterpress, being green meant you were a frog and if you were concerned about the environment you were a pinko. Stumptown Coffee opened the same year, guitar, bass, and drums ruled, CDs were king, and Clinton presided over a completely different time.

And now 2011: Three moves got us closer to the Willamette River, the first two presses have turned into eleven, iPad has a letterpress app, the Max train now travels east, west, AND north and south, bicycles are a thriving industry in Portland, farm to table and craft economy rules, the word “green” is obligatory in the marketing of all products. 

Where does the majority of your business come from, or is there a majority?

When we first started the shop, we did a little of everything, including newsletters, zines, business identity suites, fliers, posters, broadsides, and music packaging.  We’re all active in Portland’s music scene and even back then had hoped that we’d be able to work closely with our friends from local bands and labels on their printing projects, but didn’t really think that music packaging would become the defining characteristic of our business as it has. 

I’m not sure that we imagined in the beginning that we’d be a full-time commercial print shop, but instead had kind of a funny idea that the shop could function 70% as a commercial job shop, and 30% as a collaborative studio in which we’d work on our own personal publishing and printing projects. 

It quickly became evident, with the time commitment required of job work and costs of operating a shop, that it’d be best to focus on the commercial aspect of the shop. As luck would have it, we found that we could focus our commercial job work on media packaging, an area that we all wanted to explore anyway, and which still remains the majority of our business. The majority of our customers are independent musicians and artists, record labels, film makers, photographers. 

Print samples

I became familiar with your shop through record packaging. Limited edition, letterpress offering likes the Colin Meloy Sings Morrissey E.P. and more widely distributed paper-packaged CDs like Mirah’s C’Mon Miracle. Most of those CDs belonged to an era which has arguably passed– the early to mid 2000s, when the internet made finding out about independent bands so much easier, the way it does today, but illegal downloading was more difficult, CDs were still purchased regularly, the iTunes store wasn’t even open yet, and vinyl hadn’t made its comeback– how has production on music packaging changed for you guys since 2005?

When the optical disc was king, our interest in media packaging was similar to what it is now: we had the goal to create art-as-object, drawing what simply would have been commodity contained within plastic into full experiential expression of a musician’s or artist’s efforts. So during the time when it was almost obligatory for bands to have a product base of CD releases to sell and distribute, we were focused on hand produced, small run packages. Even our larger runs, like the Fahey and K Records releases, contained hand-made or custom elements. 

Some of our first personal projects as printers included creating packaging for our own bands, both in disc and vinyl formats. I still remember from that time (the early 90s) some of the iconic releases with visually stunning packaging that perfectly complimented the musical content. I don’t think that I’d have heard Shellac’s “At Action Park” or June of 44′s “Tropics and Meridians” the same way if they had been packaged in jewell cases rather than hand printed and assembled at Fireproof Press. Each package was individualized with the personal touch of the printer. 

Wooden type

 As printers, and in particular, printers enamored with mid-20th century production techniques, we’re bound by the physical constructs of the machinery that we’ve chosen to work with, and will consequently always have an eye on the tactile, material representation of music and art. The challenge will be continually drawing the two together: the physical printed piece with the increasingly less tangible digital audio format.

That said, compared to the mid 00′s, we’ve been seeing an amazing variety of packaging formats. We’re doing smaller runs and more involved custom work, and we are offering more types of packages for different types of media. Yes, we have seen more cassette and vinyl projects since 2005, and more limited edition CD & DVD releases too. Also, we’ve done packaging devoid of any media at all — elaborately printed lyric booklets or folders containing just download code cards. 

Eric Bagdonas and Rebecca Gilbert at work

Your shop, through both making beautiful packaging and also offering well designed blank packages to encourage D.I.Y. printing, has played a huge role in the improvement of production quality on things like self-released records or self-published small books, in Portland and around the world. How do you see it continuing its role into the two-thousand-teens?

We all grew up during the rise of the zine era, a time when writers and artists who created self-published work not only traded their finished work, but in many cases exchanged production ideas, distribution networks, etc. It was the inspiration of the collective work of that scene, both zine writers and musicians, that led us to explore the tradition of print. 

It’s flattering to think that our work here at the shop contributes to that dialogue, and that we’ve had some impact on the DIY music and publishing world. That’s fantastic. We’re very excited about continuing and expanding our custom printing services and also plan to continue to develop and offer new blank media packaging into the two-thousand-teens. 

It’s been interesting to see how both the growth of interest in letterpress (and home letterpress shops/silkscreen shops) and the technology available to home recording, mastering, and duplicating projects has driven the interest in blank packaging. It’s awesome that people can release complete albums by themselves, in editions of ten to multiple hundreds. 

Yeah, in this age of everything under the sun being visible, advertised, and for sale on the internet– there has been an increased interest in letterpress printing, especially on the part of DIY motivated artists. Any idea how to explain this phenomenon?

Yes, there has definitely been an increased interest in letterpress printing and rise of craft/artisanal work in general.  So much of our social life, personal interactions, and work occurs online and on screen, so I’m guessing that the cultural transformation toward our iDevices and laptops has really helped fuel interest in handiwork, craftwork, and generally DIY art. For one, the ability to be able to communicate quickly with so many people and the access to online information has fostered both the proliferation and preservation of many craft traditions. Also, I feel that folks just need a break and find it satisfying to step away form their digital lives to look for more physical forms of expression.  

There does seem to be a renewed appreciation of the qualities of ink and paper. Many artists have turned their attention toward letterpress printing over the recent years. With its strict reliance on the physical form, structure, and bold line quality, the letterpress technique is a fitting symbol of printing craftwork. In many ways it is the antithesis of digital image composition. 

The same goes for traditional offset lithography, which also has been around for the last hundred years. 

Eric Bagdonas

When we met up so I could tour the shop, you frequently brought up the battle of sorts between CMYK vs. Spot Color Printing, and the influence of technological advancements in the printing industry. Can you tell us a little more about that?

It’s funny, to address the bit about technology, some critics back in the day would have declared the death of the printing “craft” way back in the 1920′s and even earlier as older printers and typographers saw the meteoric rise and proliferation of mechanized type composition equipment. 

The printing craft did not die because of those advancements, but flourished during and beyond that time. Offset presses pushed production boundaries, the photolithography process and advancements in process color greatly improved the quality of art and photo reproduction, and introduction of that additional printing equipment may have helped contribute to the democratization of the craft as equipment became more available and affordable. 

In the latter part of the 20th century, it was digital technology that changed things at an exponential rate. Developments in the industry centered around automation and efficiency of production, as they naturally tend to do, and less on judgement of the craftsperson, creative problem solving, and human input. 

In that span of years, the graphic design discipline also shifted exclusively to digital composition. It is no wonder that there were big aesthetic changes in popular print media. Coupled with increased image capabilities of automated and computer integrated printing equipment and a carte blanche enthusiasm of a new technology, it seemed that the job of the printed piece was to emulate the tool that created it–the computer–rather than to celebrate the materials that it was actually made of–ink and paper. 

Technology dictated the aesthetic rather than attempting to follow a popular aesthetic, as was the case in the early development of moveable type and casting equipment which was originally designed to replicate the hand rendered letterform.

Up until a couple of years ago, a lot of printed media reflected the character of the computer screen image by using aqueous coating, highly processed coated paper, and impossibly fine microscopic halftone screen patterns to build print pieces that possessed a near “backlit” quality. 

Thankfully, by now we’ve learned that some design is best relegated to the computer screen, and shouldn’t be put on paper. There are still the occasional cries of “the death of print,” but instead, we now think of this time as its liberation. After all, the sometimes reckless immediacy of the digital image has its antidote; the delete key.  

The tactile feel that so many people consider emblematic of letterpress printing was as much a quality of the print technology of the time as it was of the letterpress process. Use of spot color rather than CMYK (four color process) was the standard in both letterpress and offset printing and a variety of interesting paper stocks, primarily uncoated, were used for both letterpress and sheet fed offset. Color separations were created mechanically rather than digitally. Trapping (color overlap) was exaggerated to accommodate registration variances. 

The key characteristic of what I consider the heyday of print was use of spot color. Spot color gives a unique character that cannot be matched by digital processes or CMYK. What you physically mix on the glass with an ink knife and put in the press is what you get- bold, pure color.  A printed piece using just two thoughtfully chosen spot ink colors will likely draw more interest even than one printed in four color process (CMYK).  

If it can be believed that print will settle into a role that is similar to that of analog media and vinyl records; less of a utilitarian necessity than a object of beauty and ornamentation, then we want to celebrate its simple functionality through spot color. 

Tell us about two major book projects the shop has completed.

Rebecca just finished designing and printing a book written by Colin Meloy and illustrated by Carson Ellis, “The Grievous Demise of Mr. Whitley Rackham.”  A Victorian ghost story featuring an English nurse and a soldier who has returned from the Turkish war front, the edition is letterpress printed, hand sewn and bound into paper covers. This was an edition of 200 pieces (174 numbered and 26 lettered/signed books), and a project that was begun years ago with some support from Literary Arts Fellowships for Publishers. 

Another interesting book project that we were involved with recently was one that we did for Temporary Residence Records and Eluvium, titled “Life Through Bombardment.” A hard bound book covered with green book cloth and containing 7 pages of original art by Jeannie Lynn Paske, each page also served as an LP sleeve and contained a vinyl LP cataloguing the first years of Eluvium’s recordings. There is also a beautiful fold-out piece of artwork and a library card pocket that includes a personalized & signed card for each book owner. The concept was created by Jeremy of Temporary Residence, and we worked closely with all parties involved to realize the final product in an edition of 1000 pieces. 

Tell us your history as a printer. What inspired you initially? Where did you first do significant work in print?

Although everyone at the shop was drawn to print through independent publishing projects and music, we’ve had fairly different printing histories.  

Personally, I’ve always been interested in offset printing, as it was offset shops and operators that I first encountered. In the early 90s, while working on a 7″ record project, I was led to visit Lakeside Press in Madison, Wisconsin. That was really inspiring to me, and I feel that visit planted the seed for me, that I wanted to become a printer. It was the visceral draw of the process-the sound of chattering delivery chains, oscillating rollers, milling ink & whoosh of air pumps, the budum! budum! of impression cylinders, the smell of ink and freshly oiled machines-as much as it was the fascination with the final printed piece. 

More print samples

The fact that you could start with raw material–blank paper, and end the day with beautifully printed and finished record covers, by the effort of hand work and calculated control of mainly manual machinery was very satisfying. 

I became attracted to the aesthetic of manual image composition using photo lithography, and was inspired by the work of small shops of the 70s, 80s, and early 90s that made the most of older small-format machinery, both offset and letterpress. The work of New Earth Press, Inkworks, Fred Woodworth, Punks with Presses, was influential, and also searching out old chapbooks and political pamphlets produced by small offset shops and artist cooperatives of the1970s and 80s. 

I did some time working at chain print shops, but it wasn’t until I got a job at an independent print shop here in the mid 90s called Pacific Coast Printing that I really got hooked on printing. The production area of that shop was like a monument to pre-digital print. There were presses and parts of all types of small format printing machines-American Type Founders, Itek, Hamada, Multilith, ABdick, a buried C&P platen press there, and exposure units, stripping and manual layout equipment, cameras, bindery equipment, etc. It was beautiful chaos. 

I learned a lot from two amazing printers there, the owner was a lady from New York who could fix anything and make AB Dicks print like they were Heidelbergs, and a guy who was a real character. A life-long printer and mechanical wizard, he once disassembled a 1950s Harris 29 down to the frame so that he could paint it his favorite color.

What would your ultimate print project fantasy dream be?

I’m still interested in pre-digital manual artwork composition in the era of the mechanical paste-up, and generally interested in the amazing spot color work done in small print shops through the 20th century. When printers designed for economy of color, some really creative techniques were used to get the most out of one or two spot pantone colors. I’d like to continue to explore this era of print, and through incorporating some of these techniques, create a portrait study in print featuring Portland musicians who have been influential to me. Maybe not on the level of “ultimate,” but that’s my current print project fantasy.  

What are some current projects Stumptown is working on? What can we expect to see in the rest of 2011?

There’s been a recent resurgence of interest here at the shop in typecasting, hand composition, and the origin of the moveable type. Brian and Rebecca, the other two founders of the Stumptown Printers, have long had a simmering interest in monotype equipment, thanks largely due to the inspiration of our typography and printing mentors Jules Faye and the late Christopher Stern. Stern & Faye have been a very important influence on all of us, both personally and as printers, and when Chris Stern passed away, Brian and Rebecca, along with some of Stern & Faye’s other print colleagues and students, decided to create a non-profit organization to preserve Stern’s Monotype foundry. The organization manages a working museum that has recently opened here in Portland  called CC Stern Foundry. 

Linotype machine

 Additionally, we’ve acquired a Linotype 31 here at the shop, and Brian has taken the restoration and maintenance of this machine on as a personal project. Easier access to composition and casting equipment will undoubtedly shape our future work here at the shop. We’ve scheduled in a couple of art prints for the upcoming months and this week we will be printing our first packaging job using type composed and cast on the Linotype. We also plan on producing more book and broadside work in the near future, involving musicians and writers that we’ve worked with over the years. 

"Don't think too hard. It's only drawing."

It is important to have heroes. It is also helpful when they are real people. I have my share of individuals who continually inspire me with their amazing quality of work, thoughtfulness, and uncanny ability to make it all come together (many of them have been highlighted here on Bangback). Artist Carson Ellis ranks right up there at the top of my list.

Carson is a full-time illustrator who creates beautiful work for children’s books. She is also the artist-in-residence for The Decemberists. She is prolific and kind and we had the extreme pleasure to work with her when Pinball was producing the paper goods line Tenth & Grant. She was born in Vancouver, BC and raised in suburban New York. She studied painting at the University of Montana in Missoula, where she received her BFA in 1998. Currently residing in Portland, with her husband Colin Meloy, son Hank, and two cats, she has been working at a feverish pace to illustrate The Decemberists’ latest album and also finish up the eighty-five (!) illustrations for the book Wildwood. Luckily, we grabbed a few minutes with her this Spring to hear about her latest efforts and inspirations.

P.S. She is going to be speaking at the Portland State University MFA lecture series this coming Monday. Don’t miss it. It’s free and starts at 7:30.

Carson and Colin. Photo by Autumn de Wilde

2011 is a very big year for your illustration work with the upcoming release of Wildwood (illustrated by you!), and January’s release of The Decemberists’ The King is Dead (illustrated by you!). How have you kept up with this incredible pace? That both of these amazing projects are emerging during the same calendar year seems magical and so challenging. Was it intentional?

Oh man, I have not kept up. No, it wasn’t intentional to work on Wildwood and The King Is Dead at the same time, though it’s not unusual. I’ve been working on Decemberists records, one after the other, since 2001. And I’ve been illustrating books, back to back, since 2005. So I’m often working on a couple of projects at once but I’m also always, always behind. Right now I’m struggling to – and unlikely to – meet my Wildwood deadline which has already been extended three times. (Editor’s note, Carson just completed the final illustration last night for Wildwood).

Can you tell us about a favorite page of Wildwood? A cherished element from the album art for The King is Dead?

Wildwood has a lot of illustrations, many of them elaborate, but one of my favorites is a little spot of a badger pulling a rickshaw.

 

Even though he makes a very brief appearance in the book — isn’t really a proper character with a name or anything – I’m really fond of the drawing. Sometimes the best illustrations are the simplest ones. They’re the best because they’re the most fun to draw.

 

As for The King Is Dead, I collaborated with my photographer friend Autumn de Wilde on the cover and everything else involved in the packaging of the record. We did a limited edition cloth bound box set that I think looks great. It included a signed and numbered print by me, an original polaroid by Autumn, a limited edition vinyl record and a book of Autumn’s Decemberist-themed polaroids that I added illustration to. I love the book. Autumn took 2500 polaroids of the Decemberists and their surroundings around the time they were recording The King Is Dead. As a collection, I think they represent a real feat of photography. They’re also a gorgeous and exhaustive portrait of the band. We used a lot of them in the book and it was fun to figure out how to incorporate illustration in a way that wouldn’t overwhelm the photos but would work with them to expand on the music. And it was super fun to work with Autumn. All told – LPs and EPs and singles and solo records – I’ve now designed covers for 19 Decemberists albums, so it was really nice to collaborate with a friend on this one.

I first encountered your work about nine years ago when you illustrated a broadside printed by Rebecca Gilbert from Stumptown Printers. It was part of a Letterpress show at Powells. I remember loving the detail in your illustration, and I still do love all the details in your work. I can’t believe that almost a decade has passed since that show (I’ve been doing Pinball since that year too!). So much has happened. What do you think you will be up to a decade from now?

Thanks! I don’t know what I’ll be doing. Probably still illustrating books. Probably still working on album art here and there, doing odd illustration jobs, having art shows every once in a blue moon. I imagine myself doing more or less what I’m doing now but with a teenage son, which is trippy.

When you are planning for an illustration project, do you adjust your approach depending on the printing method? Silkscreen vs. letterpress, web offset (like for a newspaper) vs. full color offset? Do you have a favorite?

I wish I knew enough about printing to do this. So many illustration projects have turned out badly because I couldn’t anticipate how their printing process would alter them. I do have that stuff in mind now, in that I know which mediums make for fail-proof reproduction. Black and white line drawings with or without a grey wash are a pretty safe bet. Most of the illustrations in Wildwood look like this with the exception of 6 “tipped in” color illustrations. (They’re printed on different paper, proofed separately and then bound into the book, like the color plates of old.)

But the way I like to do color illustrations – as watercolor or gouache paintings with a subtle, muddy palette mixed from lots of different colors  – is the worst. Even when I was making my own giclee prints I was never quite able to get the color right, despite proofing and adjusting over and over again. I’m envious of illustrators working digitally lately. A lot of the art looks really lovely and handmade but it still seems to translate better to print. Sadly, my computer skills are sorry and my understanding of various printing processes is limited.  There were no illustration courses at my college, nor were any classes taught in digital art way back then, in the stone age, when I went I went to school.

Russian Alphabet poster, illustrated by Carson and screen printed by Rob Jones.

I love your color palettes and intricate lines, and of course, your amazing lettering. Do you find certain printing techniques or materials (coated paper vs. uncoated) work better for your illustration style.

I prefer non-glossy, non-coated paper.  I printed my giclees on a thick, toothy paper – almost like a watercolor paper – that I loved.

Nearly a decade's worth of album covers

Your work has focused in more recent years on illustration for children’s and young adult’s books, and album art for The Decemberists. Do you want to keep it this way? Any fantasy projects that are in totally different fields?

I’d like to learn woodcarving so I can sculpt my own figureheads and cigar store indians. I’d like to do more quilting. I’d like to make some large scale paintings, like the oil paintings I made in college but better. I’d like to make a calendar. I’d really like to write and illustrate some books but I’ll have to overcome a big creative block first.

Carson's inspiration and studio.

Who and what are your biggest inspirations?

The natural world has always been my biggest inspiration, specifically, lately, the woods around my house. Lots of illustrators inspire me too:  Pauline Baynes, Ben Shahn, Alice and Martin Provensen, Ivan Bilibin, Grady McFerrin, Miroslav Sasek, Jon Klassen. I’m also inspired by Colin and Hank and their combined crazy, over-active imaginations.

Greeting card illustrated by Carson for Reading Frenzy. Printed at Pinball!

I think you have a dreamy job. Are there any un-dreamy parts? Extra-dreamy parts?

It’s dreamy to go out to my studio on a misty day, fire up my pellet stove, put on music, and draw for six hours. I’m grateful that I get to spend so much of my day alone in my own world and in my own weird head. It’s extra-dreamy to get fan mail from kids, to collaborate so closely with my husband, to work from home, to see a book that I illustrated in a bookstore, and to collaborate with musicians I love. It’s un-dreamy to work around the clock and, in spite of that, be forever behind schedule, to be rushed through the creative process – a thing I take very seriously – and to make art when you’re not inspired to. It can also be un-dreamy to have no co-workers. Illustration can be a lonely business, even for people who love to be alone.

Rake

Any words of wisdom that have really helped you along the way?

This advice is always true, but sometimes very hard to follow: Don’t think too hard. It’s only drawing.

Images courtesy of Carson Ellis.

The C.C. Stern Type Foundry opens its doors to the public this weekend, their collection of aged foundry equipment and metal type on display.

The C.C. Stern Type Foundry will say hello to the world this weekend, excited to share the heavy equipment and hard work they’ve been wrapped up in for the last few months. Self-described as a working museum (“with an emphasis on ‘working’”), C.C. Stern boasts one of the largest collections of Monotype casting matricies in the United States. As one of the only working type foundries on the West Coast, the museum is stepping in to fill a void as a resource for the Pacific Northwest’s growing community of designers, book artists and letterpress printers.

From their website:

The mission of the C.C. Stern Type Foundry is to cultivate a unique connection between industry and the arts in the Pacific Northwest. For the first phase of the museum’s operation, our focus will be on relearning the skills and revitalizing the experiences of the working type foundry. The museum will provide educational programming, including live demonstrations of the foundry equipment and type casting processes. The museum will provide working displays and collected references, and serve as an educational resource center for teachers and students of history, printing, publishing, design, creative writing, book arts, and journalism.

The Type Foundry provides a gathering place for type enthusiasts from all genres of study, connecting them with the Northwest’s printing history, as well as with national and international organizations devoted to typography, type casting and printing.

Portlanders and Pacific Northwesters, stop into C.C. Stern’s new facilities this Saturday from 3-7pm at 8900 NE Vancouver Way in Portland. If you’re not in the area, consider supporting C.C. Stern’s Kickstarter campaign to refurbish Orphan Annie, a hulking cast-iron Monotype Sorts Casrer.

Image © Elliot Olsen, from Flickr.

The UK-based artist uses found print ephemera to create new beauty.

Anthony Zinonos is a UK-based collage and print artist who has an impeccable eye for the textures, patterns and colors of old ephemera. Anthony’s hybrid collage-illustration work is visually striking yet transcends much contemporary collage work in its pointed consideration for content and narrative. His work can function in both an art context and the design world, emerging as editorial illustration in print publications as well as in the form of original collage and ephemeral pieces.

You can find his work in his online portfolio, in his online art shop, or in his online print-zine-poster shop.

Anthony lent us a bit of his time to talk about collecting paper, print in the digital age, and nostalgia. Check out a short interview below, along with more images of his work.

Much of your work is created from found imagery, ephemera and collected paper. I see your art practice as giving many of these materials a second life. Do you look at your work this way?

Yes, that’s one of the things which really got me hooked on collage, that idea of regeneration and recycling. You are, in a way, reclaiming images and object and making them your own. We produce so much waste these days, so its nice to have the feeling that you’ve saved [and given value to] something which otherwise would have been seen as worthless junk.

A black-and-white zine featuring bright orange stickers.

I’ve read that you’re a self-described “Paper Collector.” Tell us about this role, this title, and what it entails. What’s a typical day like when you’re in “Paper Collector” mode?

“Paper Collector” mode is 24/7 for me. It’s not just a hobby, it’s a way of life, ha ha…. Seriously though, I’m always on the look out for paper goods. Be it old magazines, books, stationary, newspapers, scraps in the street: anything that catches my eye and makes me think “I could use that.”

I’ve definitely got some hoarder in me, it pays off though because I always find money on the ground too.

Colour in the Park, collage on paper. Available, £100.

Do you ever feel like you’re chasing a fast-disappearing collection of ephemera? Do you expect us to continue printing objects at the same rate we’ve been doing for decades?

Sometimes I do panic about the decline of printed matter but it only makes all the bits I collect even more special. I think print has recently gained a lot more respect and is being seen more as an art rather than just a process. In some ways, I welcome all the digital media because it’s less wasteful and cheaper. However, a print magazine will always have a special place in my heart.

The Cowboy, the Mistress and Paulo, collage on paper.

I think many of us feel like paper goods, bits of ephemera and printed images are simply better when they’re older. What’s your stance on contemporary ephemera versus printed pieces from years past? Are you as excited about the bus ticket you got last week as you get about a bus ticket from thirty years ago?

I’ll have to agree the older stuff has more charm. Contemporary ephemera just looks a bit dull to me, we see so much of it around us everyday it doesn’t stand out. The older bits are more exciting. The paper weight and texture is different, the color saturation and grain of images is unbeatable, and the time that has passed has made its mark too.

roundBLUES, found ephemera on board. Available.

Do you feel a sense of history or nostalgia in the materials you work with?

Definitely. Sometimes it blows my mind when I think about how old the materials are and how long they have survived. I have this book that was printed in 1892…that’s what, 119 years old?! People don’t last that long and this book is still going strong. Besides all the scissor abuse I’ve given it.

Commissioned illustrations for Mens Health Magazine US

Anthony and Mr. Pickles

Traveling Blues, collage.

Left: Sloth, collage. Right: Maternal Glow, collage.

DIY Collage Kits, available in Anthony's Etsy shop.

A glimpse at Triangular Press headquarters, with storage designed by Vontundra.

Barbara Tetenbaum has been making and releasing artist books under the Triangular Press imprint since 1979. She is professor and department head of Book Arts at the Oregon College of Art and Craft in Portland, and her limited-edition artist books draw from a long tradition of letterpress printing and hand-binding techniques.

Half Life, 25 Years of Books by Barbara Tetenbaum

Half Life is a book created as an anthology or archive of Tetenbaum’s 25 years of bookmaking. The book was produced with the help of Pinch Design in Portland. Adam McIsaac, partner at Pinch, describes the book in this way:

Although initially hired as as designer, Pinch acted as producer, confessor and doula to a catalogue raisonné of Barbara Tetenbaum’s books, published by the artist’s press. The book contains four parallel narratives: an illustrated chronology of Ms. Tetenbaum’s career; an interpretive essay, in English and German, from one of the European book arts community’s most respected critics and practitioners; multiple views of each of the 36 books in the exhibition; and an annotated catalog of advertising cuts from Ms. Tetenbaum’s working collection—all tucked comfortably, along with nine full-sized page reproductions of the artist’s latest work, into 48 pages.

Her beautiful studio was designed by Vontundra, a Portland-based trio of designers and woodworkers who create custom furnishings, fixtures and sculpture. See more images of it here.

Find more of Tetenbaum’s books at the Vamp and Tramp Booksellers website.

Triangular Press and OCAC will be at the Publication Fair on Sunday, December 19, along with an all-star cast of Portland’s publishing people, projects and organizations. We’ll be sharing Portland-based publishing projects in the days leading up to the event. Find out more information at the Publication Studio’s website, and click here to see all of the Publication Fair posts.

Two titles.

Justin Bland lives in Portland. Here he makes books, small books that straddle the border between art object and publication. His books have been distributed by Café Royal Books, Kaugummi and other notable entities. His work was recently included in the book Fanzines by graphic design historian Teal Triggs, released earlier this year by Thames & Hudson Publishers.

Find his book projects at his website. Also see his flickr stream, where he regularly posts images of his own work and print objects made by others.

Justin Bland will be at the Publication Fair on Sunday, December 19, along with an all-star cast of Portland’s publishing people, projects and organizations. We’ll be sharing Portland-based publishing projects in the days leading up to the event. Find out more information at the Publication Studio’s website, and click here to see all of the Publication Fair posts.

An independently published newsprint project.

At one point last spring, I found myself sitting outside on a bright gray day, on a damp bench with a free newsprint publication in my hands. I realized I was having an essentially Portland experience: I was enjoying an accessible, independently published piece of collaborative artwork, an artifact of my city’s highly inclusive and DIY creative scene. (Plus, a downpour was imminent.) Mia Nolting and Rachel Pedderson are responsible for this artifact, a publication called &Review that brings together multimedia work from an ever-expanding group of international artists. They kindly took the time to answer some of my questions about the motivations and processes involved in creating their publication. Read on.

Tell us about &Review. How did the project begin? What is your goal with the publication?

Rachel Pederson: We began in the Fall of 2009 with the idea to start a project where we put others people’s writing and art into a publication, keeping our own work out of it. We both had a lot of energy to do something editorial. I think we both secretly want to be writers. Instead I have worked at the library and Mia has made a lot of text based illustration work. I think &review is place for us to express our enthusiasm for writing, books and publications.

Mia Nolting: We definitely both want to be writers. I think we both also enjoy seeing the bigger picture in things – making connections between many things and putting it all together. Our goal is just that: to compile connected ideas and put them in one place. I’ve also always been obsessed with publication design, and &Review has been a way to explore different publishing formats.

Issue #2: Islands

The content from each issue is made available online as well as in printed format. Why is it important to have a physical, printed publication? Why is it important to also make the content available online?

R: I still really value printed publications as something you can interact with more intimately than the computer screen. I often get tired of the computer and it’s a nice break to read from actual paper. It’s still important to have things available online because our audience is much broader that way and I feel it’s important for art to be easy to access for free. By having two versions we have a lot more creative freedom – we can put video and interactive projects online, which is not only more fun for us, but ultimately more interesting for our readers.

M: We also enjoy working within the constrains of both printed material and online publishing. Until we can afford some fancy printing, the images are almost always going to look better online. There is also color, and interactivity, and the sense of narrative/chronology is different online because of hyperlinks and multiple pages that don’t go in any particular order except the order the viewer chooses. And of course we love being able to show videos. Words look better in print. We can also curate a reading order in print more easily than online; you’re most likely going to read from first page to last in that order. We like the idea of offering different content online than in print, really letting the medium shape what we show. We both also love the idea of holding something in our hands, and it’s always exciting to get mail. We always print on newsprint, which has an ephemeral and disposable quality. Websites seem more permanent because everything is always stored on a server somewhere, and the content can be viewed over and over and over, where a book will fall apart eventually.

Funding the printing of a publication can be tricky, especially one you’re offering to the public for free. Do you find funding through grants or fundraising, or is it a personal project?

R: It has definitely been a bit difficult to find funding because there are a lot of young people putting together zines and small press publications. So far we are funding this ourselves but that will change as we get more time to apply for grants, etc. I know there is money out there, it’s just a matter of having time to seek it out.

M: Funding is tricky! But yes, we wanted to get through the first year so we have something to show. Next we’ll be applying for grants. We also keep production pretty cheap by printing on newsprint and offering a lot of content online.

You recently collaborated with Gary from Container Corps to include a full-color insert in the black-and-white newsprint edition of Issue #2. How did that collaboration come about? Do you have plans for future collaborations or deviations from your current format? It’s a lot of work to collect submissions, curate content, and design and prepare your publication for web and print. Not to mention distribution and promotion! How do you two split up tasks? Does the &Review team extend beyond two editors?

R: So far it’s just us two. We’re in the process of getting an intern because I’m beginning graduate school this fall and it will be harder to stay on top of everything. It can be incredibly time consuming, yes! I am doing the majority of the administrative work and Mia is the website and layout designer. At this point we’re both acting as editors and we work together to find the overall feel/aesthetic for each issue.

M: I met Gary at Container Corps somehow through people or the internet or just by Portland being as small as it is, and had been wanting to work with him in some capacity because of the great work he does. When we approached him about collaborating on our second issue, he was stoked and we were too! Some things about the current format are going to stay: printing on newsprint, using Baskerville and Didot italic and occasionally Orator Std for our text. Things we’re very much interested in changing up are the size and layout of each issue, as well as any inserts/extras/accessories that we can manage. Issue 2 also had a postcard included with some of them, which was really nice. Souvenirs are nice. The format always depends on funding and/or a third party collaboration.

So far the roles have played out in line with our interests and skills – Rachel is going to grad school for Arts Administration and is generally great at organizing and connecting with artists, and I work as a graphic designer when I’m not illustrating, and am glad to have the opportunity to do more design and refine my skills in that area. Distribution and promotion have been something we both squeeze in whenever we can!

Issue #3 of &Review: Ghosts

What are your creative backgrounds? Did you always have an interest in publishing, or does it come as a surprise that you’re the editors of a thriving publication?

R: I studied painting and photography in college and have maintained my art practice in all different media for awhile. I have been in friends’ zines and small publications here and there but it’s very different to be in an editorial position. I think I’ve been interested in a project like this for a long time and was never prepared for the workload. I’m so happy to be finally putting together this publication with Mia!

I was surrounded by old books growing up, my dad collected antique classics and he was always reading. I was intrigued but more interested in anything but reading at that time. Then my dad grounded me when I was thirteen for running away and my punishment was to read The Catcher in the Rye and The Grapes of Wrath and write book reports to him before being granted reprieve. I think he really wanted me to love reading the way he did and I at some point after recovering from my book reports as punishment, I fell in love with reading again. I have worked in a library off and on for the last five years and love to be around books and print.

Issue #1 of &Review: Home

M: I’ve been making books and drawing text for as long as I remember, so it’s not really surprising to be working on a publication. My father is a film editor and my mother works in a library, and I think I inherited a little bit of both of those things: shaping content that someone else provides and organizing printed information. I ultimately studied illustration and typography in college, after also studying French and literature and creative writing and documentary photography. I didn’t really know how it could all come together until I took a community college publishing class, where I learned about fonts and chapbook-making and editing, both in terms of content and design. Somehow I didn’t realize that my varying interests in language and design were encapsulated in one thing, which was making books.

My illustration career is built on drawing text, which I think comes from loving the way language looks, and from a general interest in communication. My approach to drawing is a lot like editing, in that the way I draw is a process of selection, rather than creation; I look at the world and decide what to record, rather than create something from scratch. This is all very much in line with the work we’re doing for &Review, which is essentially choosing things out of the world and putting them all together in one place.

Submissions are now being accepted for &Review Issue 4: Garments.

Thank you to Rachel Pedderson and Mia Nolting for taking the time to discuss their project. Issue #3 of &Review is now available at select Portland locations, and the content is available on their website. Submissions are now open for Issue #4: Garments, guest edited by Ryland Walker Knight.

Revenge of the Decorated Pigs

Publication Studio is a Portland-based print-on-demand (POD) book publisher and distributor, of works created closely with authors and artists.

All of their books are printed in-house on an Instabook rig and share the same simple appearance, using recycled stock (usually old folders) with the same typeface on the covers.

I was introduced to Publication Studio through its founder, Matthew Stadler, being on the bill at a music show. He got up with a book in hand and talked passionately, in the place of someone singing with an acoustic guitar. It was a surprising and compelling way to be introduced to such a project.

Recently, I was able to ask Matthew for a bit of extra insight into the project.

A desk at Publication Studio

If you could reduce it to 3 steps, how did Publication Studio come into being?

1. We realized POD/digital books lets you publish great work with little or no up-front money.

2. We found used machinery that makes books POD for cheap.

3. Ace Hotel let us work in a beautiful corner storefront of their Portland hotel for free, so long as we were out of there and had all our machines put away whenever they needed the room.

I acquired the press by pursuing any leads I could for used machines, specifically a used Instabook III, which seemed like the only affordable, fully-developed DIY POD machinery out there. I found an Instabook rig (Kyocera duplex digital printer; Ideal guillotine trimmer; glue-binder designed by Victor Celario and called “Instabook”) that Vox Populi in Brooklyn, NY was trying to get rid of ($1500, if I would get it out of their place), flew out there with my ten-year old, rented a van, and drove the equipment back across the country to PDX.

A display table at Publication Studio

Would you share with us a brief history of your involvement with books on a professional level before Publication Studio?

As a writer I’ve published my own books with Scribner’s, Harper-Collins, and Grove Press. My work has been in books from every scale of publisher and many types of journals. My experience with conventional publishing made me long for an approach that focuses more on real conversations and lasting readership, rather than on quick sale of many books.

As a supporter of other people’s work, I worked at Ballantine (part of Random House), read for Antaeus (a journal), was literary editor of Nest Magazine, books editor at The Stranger, and co-founder and editor of Clear Cut Press.

A stack of unfinished books

Can you tell us a little about the process your titles go through? For instance, do the authors turn in their books as finished and ready to print, or do you end up contributing to the editing, layout and interior design?

Our authors are all writers and artists whom we admire and whose work we are enthusiastic about. Most of them work with us because we asked them to, and, on close inspection, they saw that the set up is good. We have ongoing conversations with most of our authors, I’d say 9 out of 10. The other 1 out of 10 arrive with a finished piece of work, sometimes a book they thought was going to be published elsewhere, and we simply step in and publish it. The vast majority (9 out of 10) do as much work as they are capable of, which often includes book design (when working with visual artists), writing of course, and sometimes file preparation. We do the rest, or if we lack skills, we find someone skilled who can do the rest (including editing, copy edit, etc., all the things that publishers do). As an end product, we need a good digital file. That file circulates as an ebook and in our online “free reading commons,” and it is the file from which we print and make our physical books.

What was the first book you put together and distributed at Publication Studio?

Joy and Reffry, volume one (see Publication Studio Store)

The most recent?

35 images by Gil Blank / Book Eleven of The Odyssey (see Publication Studio Store)

The Strong Man

Where and how are the titles distributed? Give us some insight on the “print on demand” aspect of the project.

We distribute via internet sales (so far our sales are restricted to North and South America, five or six European countries, Japan, and Australia, but that will grow as the books move around), by selling books in our storefront, and by sales through bookstores that agree to work with our model (which means no returns and no selling books at discounts or on special). A key element to our business is that we insist on the value of the book, always and only sell it to a reader who will pay, and then split profits 50/50 with the authors/artists.

Will you share a shortlist of favorite titles you’ve put together so far?

Revenge of the Decorated Pigs by Lawrence Rinder

Heather and Ivan Morison (a catalog) by Open Satellite

El gate eficaz / Deathcats by Luisa Valenzuela

Berlin Childhood circa 1900 by Walter Benjamin

(For details on each title, see Publication Studio Store)

Berlin Childhood circa 1900

I was introduced to your project by seeing you present this summer at What The Heck Fest, a music festival in Anacortes, Washington. I’m wondering how you came to be there, and if you’ve been spreading the word by making appearances at other venues not normally associated with books.

I’ve attended What the Heck for seven years. It is precisely the sort of public gathering into which we hope literary culture will extend. We believe social gathering is an essential part of literary culture, but we don’t look for rarified settings, such as book fairs and literary conferences. We look, instead, for places where people have their brains turned on even while they’re enjoying themselves, settings that stimulate every organ of the body. What the Heck is such a setting. Also, Phil Elverum collaborated with me to make the first Publication Studio project – an album called White Stag – that raised the money to buy the machines.

Stadler’s talk in Anacortes was similar to the talk in the video featured below.

What is Publication? A talk by Matthew Stadler from Publication Studio on Vimeo.

There’s one particular title that caught my eye when I saw you speak at What The Heck Fest, a novel by Lawrence Rinder, “a tell-all send up for the New York art world” to paraphrase how you described it then– and this seems the most clear example of why a publisher like Publication Studio really belongs in the literary world. How did he find out about Publication Studio? I mean, did you send a notice out to the world at large asking “Is your book racy? Interesting? Somewhat unclassifiable? We’re here for you!” ?

He could have published that book with almost anyone, big or small. He was the curator of the Whitney Biennial, and a widely published and highly respected figure in contemporary art. He chose to publish with us because our approach makes more sense than traditional publishing. Our approach is radically less wasteful and focused on things that matter, such as conversation and lasting relationships (and not on quick sales).

You guys participated in the Time Based Art Festival in Portland this September. What did you do for it?

We made books with artists in real-time, i.e. starting from scratch and producing the books before the end of the festival.

Your storefront seems to be a sort of open studio, as the name suggests. Tell us a little about how that works, or the day-to-day goings on at Publication Studio.

It is open and that’s important to us. Any of our authors can come work and many of them do. We have a big table and wireless. Patricia is usually fairly busy with production. I am too, sometimes, though currently I’m trying to finish writing a book that I owe to another publisher (in Holland) so I’m not at the shop as much. At the big table we might do some of our editorial and production work with the writers, or meet new writers, or just share lunch. But in addition to being an open studio for working on our books, it is also a retail storefront (we sell our books there) and, well, a sweat shop really, our book factory, the site of all our material production.

Another table in the studio

Elvrum in his own print shop

Phil Elverum is best known for his work as the bands Mount Eerie and The Microphones, as well as his production on beloved records by Mirah, Little Wings, Jason Anderson, Thanksgiving, and many more. He is also a strikingly prolific, exceptionally talented, and inventive independent printer. I recently asked Phil to share some history about his work with print and the running of his label P.W. Elverum & Sun.

I was first exposed to your label in 2004, with the release of Welcome Nowhere, by Thanksgiving. The covers were silkscreened on recycled record covers. Can you tell me a bit about that early phase of the label?

I knew I wanted to start putting out my own records and start a thing called “P.W. Elverum & Sun,” which I envisioned as just a centralized portal/brand for me to put on whatever projects I happened to be working on. But it seemed like a cool thing to do to start it by releasing something that wasn’t me, and I’d been recording with Adrian Orange in my mountain hut home/studio and it seemed perfect.

The packaging happened because my friend Bret Lunsford owned a record store in town [Anacortes, WA], The Business, and was drowning in old unsellable records and was happy to have me haul them away and give them a new life.

So, silkscreening on inside out old LP jackets was an economic decision (free) and also an aesthetic one. Adrian [Orange, of the band Thanksgiving] and I both really liked the gnarly old decaying cardboard with tears and chunks coming off and rat bites and mold.

I did a couple more releases in this style, but there is also a limitation to this aesthetic and sometimes a beautifully printed photo or drawing is necessary to make the package work. Plus we were running out of old records to cannibalize.

'Mount Eerie Dances With Wolves' and 'Welcome Nowhere'

The first really big release you did was No Flashlight, the first album you made as Mount Eerie. It is, I believe, the biggest record cover ever made. Tell us about the process of making that package.

For some reason I am always drawn to the most over the top epic thing. So, for No Flashlight in the fall of 2005 I was inspired by the records of CRASS, the British punk band. Their records are packaged as 24″ x 36″ posters folded up to 12″ x 12″, both sides covered with SO MUCH information, visual and literal. I love the idea of having footnotes and images and reference points. Plus, one side was usually one huge beautiful collage painting by Gee Vaucher. Totally inspiring and beautiful. I wanted to do something like that, but with my own aesthetic, more ephemeral and “woo-woo.”  Also bigger. So I did a whole bunch of research on large format offset printing.

During this period I was blowing my own mind frequently about how accessible things were. I was curious about who printed the giant world map I had hanging on the wall, I looked at the fine print at the bottom, looked up the company and called them. So easy! Walls fell down. I realized that everything was made by someone in an office somewhere with a phone. I went pretty deep. I ended up on some website reading the minutes from a printing industry conference meeting in Germany where they were discussing the newly invented world’s largest offset printing press and how many were being manufactured (not that many, like five) and where they’d be operational and when. Then I tried to find those companies and tried to get more information.

I ended up finding a large format printer in D.C. that usually works with the Department of Defense printing strategic maps and getting a price quote that I could make work. It wasn’t the world’s largest press but it was pretty big.

I made big artwork, scanned it in a million pieces and pieced it together here in Anacortes on the computer with much help from my friend and ordered thousands of huge huge posters folded into a 12″ thing.

"No Flashlight," unfolded and folded

The next major releases were D+’s No Mystery and The Spectacle, a self titled album by a Norwegian metal band, and a printed catalog of P.W. Elverum & Sun Wares up to that point. All of these items used letterpress, and around that time I was in Anacortes and helped you set up your first garage shop. Can you share some information about your work with letterpress, and that era of the label?

I never actually intended to set up a letterpress shop. I accidentally inherited all this equipment from a friend I shared a studio with who left town, and then Community Print in Olympia was homeless for a while and needed to get rid of a bunch of stuff, so I just ended up with a letterpress shop in my garage, then I got really into it. Now I’m into it on purpose. I have actually always loved letterpress printing, since living in Olympia and being loosely involved with Community Print. So in like, 2006 I had a pretty good print shop in my garage and it made sense to use it when possible on these music releases. The D+ release and the Spectacle album made sense to “home-print” because they were lower quantity editions.  It doesn’t make sense to “professionally” print less than 1000 of a record cover. So that left silkscreening and letterpressing as the best options.

Last winter I renovated my back garage building and built it into my dream shop. It’s pretty nice in there now. I’ve been organizing the fonts, trimming and perfecting the collection. Still, it’s a totally weird and obsolete hobby, not meant for modern times. It makes no sense. I love it.

Other letterpress Elvrum projects.

Phil Elvrum's handiwork.

The next project I’d like to talk about is the Mount Eerie Pts. 6 & 7 coffee table book/record set that you made in 2007. How did you come to self-publishing the most expensive kind of book, finding the printer, and coordinating it all?

This was another situation, like No Flashlight, of feeling like something was totally alien and inaccessible, in this case the world of fancy art books, and just doing the research and making myself involved, inviting myself to the party.

I had all these photos that I’d taken over that previous 10 years or so, and just had tacked to my walls, treated as inspiration, but never had the opportunity to show off on their own except for the occasional record jacket art. The idea to make an expensive fancy art book started as a joke. It just seemed hilarious and absurd to have an expensive thing on the merch table right next to a $3 single. The joke started to become really interesting. I made phone calls, I got different quotes and debated the various pros and cons of printing in Canada vs. Asia. Actually I never really considered printing in Asia even though I knew it would be like 1/4 the price. It just seemed like a line I didn’t want to cross. The debate was more between the super fancy Canadian printer and the regular Canadian printer. I ended up going with the fancy one, so the book has to cost $60. I had worked with Hemlock Printers before for the 11 Old Songs LP jacket. They have a reputation as being really high quality and also really environmentally sound.

Building up to this project when I was thinking about book design and different ways of printing high resolution photographic art I was totally obsessing. When I’d look at books I would forget to even look at the image. I would just put my face like 1 inch from the paper and examine the moire pattern, the ink coverage, the depth of the blacks, the paper stock, the binding… forgetting the actual content. I still look at books this way often. I have some art books in my collection that I own mostly for the way the book is put together, not because I like the art. I still think books are the most exciting thing to make. I wish they were easier to sell and less expensive. I wouldn’t mind making tons more books.

The printing of "Mount Eerie pts. 6&7"

Next you released Black Wooden Ceiling Opening, Welcome Nowhere Reissue, Lost Wisdom, Dawn, and Wind’s Poem– and they all have a sort of new style– a refined, more “professional” approach to the packaging. High quality materials and simpler design.

Yeah, these recent records have more traditional covers. The first of them was the “Welcome Nowhere” reissue. There’s this type of LP jackets called “old style” or “tip-on” which is where they print on a thin piece of paper and glue it to the cardboard jacket assembly (as opposed to printing directly on the cardstock and folding that into the jacket). It’s twice as expensive but it feels much more substantial, and the quality of the image seems so much better. Deep colors, heavy construction, crisp corners. I totally fell in love with this style and so I’ve been pretty into printing color photos on them. Plus I recently got really into foil stamping, which makes everything seem a million times fancier. I am looking into getting a foil stamping set up for my letterpress. I am probably too amateur to pull it off, but maybe.

There’s something really satisfying about holding a double gatefold LP with a tip-on jacket. It feels so heavy, even with the regular weight vinyl. (Which by the way, I am fine with. Fuck this 180 gram shit. It sounds the same. It’s just more wasted petroleum.)

But I am still always brainstorming about a way to reinvent the package.

Poster spread for the album "Lost Wisdom"

Your newest release is Song Islands Volume II, which came out October 19th. This is a release which has been gestating for a while. What are the details of how you designed and put together the package?

This is another double LP gatefold tip-on jacket, but this time I didn’t want to print any words over the cover image so I opted to have a fold around book band, kind of like an incomplete dust jacket for a hardcover book. This paper strip gave me the opportunity to use my letterpress shop which I don’t often get to do for my music releases. (It gets mostly used for concert posters, booklets, postcards, tickets, various paper scraps that get distributed locally.) I am pretty happy with how it turned out.

One difference with this record was the pace I took while working on it. I didn’t have a specific release date or tour I was trying to meet so I just took my sweet time. Also the music was already recorded so after it was remixed and edited all I had to think about was the physical package. This gave me the chance to mull over every little decision. I think it ended up looking more cohesive and refined than any of my other stuff so far. This idea of a paper band is kind of a break through.  I want to have maybe 2 or 3 different sized bands next time. Horizontal, vertical, diagonal bands.

"Songs Islands II"

Lastly, why did you originally start releasing your own music taking the packaging even further, especially after being on a widely recognizable label and doing interesting work with your packaging from the beginning (the pop-up first edition of It Was Hot, We Stayed In The Water and the sewed Mount Eerie albums, among many).

It was just to be able to exercise my insane desire for 100% control. Not that I ever felt restriction from K about any of my packaging ideas. It was more about me wanting to be the person whose job it was that the project was completed “correctly.” I wanted to be the one held accountable because the production person at K didn’t, and shouldn’t have to, care as much as I did about the possibly insignificant details. Plus, I love the feeling of figuring shit out.

I kind of want to try to build a locomotive or something, just to see how hard it really is. Maybe whittle an iPhone? Why not?

Custom packing tape Elverum designed to put together mailorder boxes with.