Books 1985–1988

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From 19 Years and Counting:

CALENDAR

by Joan LaBombard

Orirana Press

Edition: 200 copies

Size: 7-3/8 x 9-1/4 inches

Type: 18 pt. Deepdene

Leaves: 27 - Remur paper

Binding: Japanese style stab binding, with hinged covers of Ingres paper over boards

1985

This book of poetry spans an entire year, and includes the four seasons. To introduce each season, 1 created four graphic prints combining letterpress with intaglio and serigraphic forms. Each seasonal print shares a design element inherent in its precursor creating a unified flow within the text. The typesetting for the poetry was done by D (sic) Nicholas, proprietress of the Orirana Press. I did the typesetting for the graphic prints. I printed the book on a Vandercook No. 3 proof press that I had previously bought at an auction. The No. 3 was soon replaced with the No. 4 that I have at the present time.

The covers of the stab binding are hard covers rather than the traditional soft kind, and they are hinged at the point where the sewing thread enters the book block. The serigraphic design on the front cover is similar to that of the last graphic print in the book to create a never-ending cyclical effect. The relationship between the prints further enhances the circle.

From A Memoir of Book Design:

This book of poetry by Joan LaBombard spans an entire year. Each month is a separate poem. It is additionally broken down into the four seasons of the year. To introduce each season, I created four graphic prints combining letterpress with intaglio and serigraphic forms. Each seasonal print incorporates a design element from the previous image, and finally that of the image on the cover, creating a unified flow throughout the entire year. The typesetting for the poetry was done by the publisher, D [sic] Nicholas, and I printed the book on a Vandercook No. 3 proof press that I had bought at an auction. The No. 3 was soon replaced with a No. 4 that I used from then on. The Japanese stab binding structure was called for because it implies the respect for nature so inherent in that culture.

The covers of the Japanese stab binding are hard covers rather th the traditional soft kind, and they are hinged at the point where th sewing thread enters the book block. This feature is a direct result my experiments with the binding for From an Island in Time (1984 done only a year before. The serigraphic design on the front cover similar to that of the last graphic print in the book and creates a ne ending cyclical effect. Because the paper for this book is quite heav and the stab binding constricts the pages from opening flatly, the structure may work aesthetically but it was not a good choice from a utile point of view.

The first graphic print for "Winter" is an uninked intaglio, [The term "intaglio" implies an engraving or incised figure in stone or other hard material depressed below the surface of the material so that an impression from the design yields an image in relief. It usually connotes an inked image with the ink being drawn to the paper from the incision. It is a noun. The difference between it and "debossing" is that the latter term is a verb.] which means it is impressed into the paper. The white-on-white effect using only shadow to communicate the visual shapes is quite like new-fallen snow before it is cluttered with signs of life. After all, the reader, too, is only just treading upon the thoughts within this book. The words scattered about the visual image turn out to be the first line of poetry on the following page. Since some of the words are below the surface of the image, and some are above; the words had to be printed before the intaglio effect was produced. That is because letterpress printing requires that both the surface to be printed upon and the image which is depressed into it be on even surfaces. Fluctuations in either create uninked and unclear impressions, so precise planning is required. This was my first use of "paper" printing plates, which Susan Acker of The Feathered Serpent Press had recently brought to my attention. [A paper plate carries an image that is hand cut from four-ply matboard composed of layers of paper, coated with white glue for permanence, and raised type high on wood for printing letterpress.] The paper was dampened for a deeper impression.

The next visual image after three pages of pure undecorated poetry is that of "Spring." The exact image previously rendered in shadowed intaglio is now shown in pastel colors. The color tones progress throughout the book from no color to soft shades to brilliant full color in an effort to slowly heighten the reader's emotions. The printed words are now excerpted from the poem for the month of May.

For the visual image to introduce "Summer," the words and the colors are from the poetry for the month of August: "where the ruby-throat and the emerald sing together." The previous image from "Spring" is now a deep green (emerald) with the addition of the vortex depicted on the front cover of the book shown behind it in a warmer muted red color (ruby throat).

The last print proclaims the coming of "Autumn," and the scattered words now communicate the last line from the poem for November: "we enter the age of bronze." The colors of the exact visual image used for the previous seasons are now autumnal with a crust of metallic silver ink. The vortex image represented on the front cover of the book is once again printed in the exact shade of brown. The circle is now complete, and one year may flow into another as it does in the natural flow of events. The book, too, flows from cover to cover in a seemingly endless cycle.

©Book Club of California

From 19 Years and Counting:

A FORTUNE

by Carol Blake

One copy only

In 1985, Carol Blake, an artist, contacted me to produce one copy only of a printed and bound book for a conceptual installation art piece she planned to fabricate for an exhibition. I told her that it was folly to do all of the setup work and then only print one copy. She explained that the book would only be viewed and not read; it had to be genuine for the concept to work. I understood and acquiesced.

It is a small book measuring about 3-1/2 × 4-1/2 inches bound in gold kid leather with no decorations. I used Centaur type to print the single line on each page (some consisting of only a few words). Included is a halftone illustration of Adam and Eve reproduced from a Dutch diptych. The text paper used is Arches text wove. 

From A Memoir of Book Design:

Carol Blake, an artist (not technically a book artist), contacted me to produce one copy only of a printed and bound book which she would include in a conceptual installation art piece she planned to fabricate for an exhibition. I told her that it was folly and a waste of time to do all of the setup work and then print only one copy. She explained that the book would only be viewed and not read; it had to be genuine for the artistic concept to work. The artist within me understood and I went ahead with the project. I also remembered RoseMarie Dawes sympathetically relenting and allowing me to walk off with the only sample of a particular paper marbling in order to achieve one copy of The Little Sand Crab (1981). It was time to return the courtesy, and give some thing back for the good fortune I had achieved in my career.

It is a small book, measuring about 4-1/2 x 3-1/2 inches, bound in gold kid leather with no decorations. It shines beautifully especially since it has no tooling on its exterior—not even a title. It is purely simple. I used Centaur type to print the single line on each page (some consisting of only a few words). Included is a halftone illustration of Adam and Eve reproduced from a Dutch diptych. A plate was made from a photograph of the painting. The text paper used is Arches text wove.

©Book Club of California

LONG AFTER | ECCLESIASTES | New Biblical Texts | by | Ray Bradbury | Gold Stein Press | Santa Ana, California | 1985.

30 leaves with verso of all leaves blank except for copyright page on verso of [ii].

2-3/8 x 2-7/8 inches: endpaper with silver on recto, [i]: blank, [ii]: title on recto, with copyright on verso, [iii]: blank, [iv–vii]: debased images, I–XIX: text with art on some pages and some deposed images, [XX–XXII] debased images with XXII signed by D’Ambrosio, [XXIII]: Colophon, signed by Bradbury, endpaper with silver on verso.

Colophon: This edition of Ray Bradbury's LONG AFTER ECCLESIASTES was designed, printed, and bound by D'Ambrosio exclusively for the Gold Stein Press, using 8 pt. Centaur type, Rives paper, and printed on a Vandercook No. 3 proof press; colors by serigraphy

This is copy

[#in pencil]

of 75 copies and 10 Artist Proofs

[signature of Ray Bradbury in pencil]

Cover; light-toned gray leather, with cutout Ecclesiastes as written in its Hebrew form debossed into concentric Christian arches on silver tea chest paper, LONG AFTER ECCLESIASTES on spine. 

Slipcase: French marbled paper.

From 19 Years and Counting:

Long After Ecclesiastes by Ray Bradbury

Gold Stein Press

A Miniature Book

1985

In this writing, Ray Bradbury took the Ecclesiastes passage from the Bible and set it forward in time. I chose, in my design scheme, to show its roots. I did so in subtle ways within the story, and overtly on the front cover. To indicate antiquity, I tore the bottom edges of the pages so they would appear somewhat frayed, and used Roman numerals instead of Arabic for page numbers. This is contrasted by colored nova-like graphics within the text. I chose to augment Ray Bradbury's poetry with a subplot using debossed designs for a shadow effect. The subplot stresses the human element when influenced by the text's predicted forward thrust into the future.

The front cover utilizes the Hebrew version of Ecclesiastes debossed into concentric Christian arches of silver tea chest paper to stress its religious roots. The silver tea chest endpapers pick up the tone of the front cover and carry the reader into the text. The French marbled paper slipcase visually adds to a past era.

From A Memoir of Book Design:

This is a miniature book. The story was written by Ray Bradbury. I designed, printed, and bound the entire edition. He was unusually easy to work with and gave me full power as a designer to do as I wished-so, too, was the publisher, Leonard Goldstein of the Gold Stein Press. The author took the book of Ecclesiastes in the Old Testament and set it in the future. I chose, in my design scheme, to show its roots. I did so in subtle ways within the story, and overtly on the front cover. The subtlety within was observed so as not to intrude upon the author's communication, and the overtness outside was an attempt to lure the passing reader. To indicate antiquity, I tore the bottom edges of the pages so they would appear somewhat frayed, and used Roman instead of Arabic numerals for page numbers. Pastel-colored graphics within the text provide a subtle contrast to the black letters of the author's words. I also chose to augment Ray Bradbury's poetry with a subplot using uninked debossed designs for a shadow effect. The subplot stresses the impact on the human element when influenced by the poetry's forward thrust into the future. Because it is uninked and only a shadowy effect, it does not intrude upon the author's intentions and becomes a lesser secondary thought.

The front cover uses Ecclesiastes as written in its Hebrew form debossed into concentric Christian arches to stress its Judeo-Christian roots. The arches are made up of silver tea chest paper and are framed in light-toned gray leather that makes up the balance of the covers. The title is printed letterpress in black ink on the leather spine. The leather is extremely soft kid, which had to be pared down by machine to a workable thickness. Silver tea-chest endpapers pick up the tone of the front cover and carry the reader into the text. A slipcase of French marbled paper over archival boards visually adds to the sense of a past era of European Christianity.

The cover was produced by laminating three tiers of concentric arches cut from one ply archival board. This places each arch at a different level. A final arch frames the tiered arches but is covered in leather and put in place later, after the arches have been debossed. (I use the descriptive term "debossed" because the type is pressed into the unit like a river in a canyon as opposed to the raising of an embossed surface.) The arches are then covered with silver tea-chest paper. This gives three separate heights to the unit of arches and thus cannot be debossed all at one time. The press can hit only one level at a time. One level will always be out of depression range. Or, can it? Or, can one deboss each level separately, and then laminate them together?

It is possible, but registration of the Hebrew characters would be very difficult-especially for a fallen Roman Catholic who cannot read the characters in the first place. To make debossing easier, it was necessary to make things more complicated. Thus, I am once again working with conflicting elements. Ecclesiastes from a Bible printed in Hebrew characters was reproduced, decreased in size, and rendered in metal on a wooden pedestal to make it type-high for the hand printing press. Then a thin-bladed jigsaw was utilized to hand-cut similar arches out of it. The metal is magnesium, which is soft and easily cut. However, when sawing, it is easy, and disastrous, to dislodge the glued metal from its carrier wooden base. Needless to say, care must be taken. Each arch was then raised to its corresponding level by slipping pieces of paper under each section until all three tiers of the printing plate meshed perfectly with all three tiers of the tea-chest paper unit. It should be evident that I produced more units than I needed for the edition because misapplications of the plate against the tiered construction were numerous, and not unexpected.

A thin strip of silver tea-chest paper was used in place of a head and tail band at the top and bottom of the spine. Each strip was folded with slits cut into it so that it would be flexible on the rounded spine and bend in tandem with that portion of the book that is opened at any one time. Otherwise it would tend to pull itself away from the curved spine. Its use mirrors the silver tea-chest paper used for the arches and for the endpapers. It has no other structural function I have used the term "tea-chest paper" quite often. Silver tea-chest paper and gold tea-chest paper are almost what their descriptions imply. The Japanese use these papers to line their tea chests. The silver is genuine silver leaf with a water-based glaze over it to keep it from oxidizing. The gold is really silver with a yellowish glaze making it appear to be gold.

After the title page, there are a number of pages of debossing only (no ink used) which suggest a human figure breaking down into a cloud-like form. When one reaches the first page of text, the cloud-like form becomes colored abstract shapes suggesting that the humanoid now is alive with color; this image also breaks down into a novalike pastel-colored explosion. As the poetry resumes, it is periodically backed with debossing, which is the humanoid very slowly emerging again. The shapes meet once again (as the poetry is being read) into another nova that eventually turns into a star. The poetry comes to an end, but the debossing continues to reveal a definite naked male human figure. The conical shape of his head is the only reference to his being an advanced humanoid. Then, he also breaks down into a cloud-like form. This time the cloud surrounds a planet, or a sun.

One might assume that it is difficult for a reader to ingest more than one form of communication from the very same space, but if one thinks about it, we, as intelligent human beings, are constantly doing one thing and thinking another. If one ponders the concept, a reader while reading words on a page is actually looking beyond the words to the color and texture of the paper the words themselves are printed upon. However, the danger in this case is that the designer's secondary theme could overshadow the author's main goal. The use of debossing causes the second thought to recede to the background, allowing the black printed type of the poetry to make its point more loudly. Also, the colored areas are done in pastels for further softening. 

The original design proposal to include the Hebrew calligraphy within Christian arches created some controversy. It was felt that using Hebrew as a design component might injure the reverence in which it is held. Especially when conjoined with the Christian arches. The solution was to ask friends of the Jewish faith how they felt about the idea. It was unanimous that the idea should be used. Granted, this was not a poll of the nation and not of those living in Israel, but enough ethnic-American voices were heard to be convincing.

©Book Club of California

ex libris etchings | by | Scott | FitzGerald | [ornament] | Lorson's Books | Fullerton, California | 1986

75 copies numbered & signed

Fan binding by D’Ambrosio

2-7/8 x 2 inches, 14 leaves with etchings on all but [2]: the title page.

From 19 Years and Counting:
 

A Traveling Exhibit of ex libris etchings by Scott FitzGerald

Lorson's Books & Prints

A Miniature Book

Edition: 75 numbered copies

Size: 2-7/8 x 2 inches

Type: 8 pt. Centaur & Arrighi Leaves: Mi-tiens Canson paper

Binding: 7-point fan (or star) binding;

covers of brown Ingres paper over boards; brown ribbon tie

1986

This book consists of miniature bookplate etchings skillfully rendered by Scott Fitz-Gerald. My task was to mount them in a setting befitting a book as well as an art piece. The etchings can be viewed one at a time by turning the pages of the book. Or, one can "fan" the binding, tie the front cover to the back cover, and create a miniature art gallery. This is achieved by a non-adhesive sewing of the spine, and paste at the fore edges of the pages. The etchings are "floating" each in their own mat openings on separate pages so they are not pressed against one another when the book is closed.

I called this a "fan" binding when it was introduced, but it has since been renamed a "star" binding by the many who have duplicated it. I call it by both names in the workshops where I teach this unusually popular binding. If a book has five points, then it is a "star." More, or less points, makes it a "fan" binding. Oddly, the structure allows only for an uneven number of points.

From A Memoir of Book Design:

This miniature book consists of miniature bookplate etchings skillfully rendered by artist Scott FitzGerald for Lorson's Books and Prints in Fullerton, California. The task that | set for myself was to mount them in a setting befitting a book as well as an art piece. When binding miniature books, I noticed that after sewing the signatures together, but prior to gluing them, the fore edges naturally fanned out on their own. Sewing the signatures together pulled them tight in the spine area, and since the fore edges are not tethered, they automatically expand and thus they fan. I decided to experiment with a sewn but unglued spine (where glue would normally be used), and a glued fore edge (where glue would not normally be used). The result is a binding with pages that fan out making the entire structure look star-shaped even though it may have more than five points. The etchings can be viewed one at a time by turning the pages of the book. Or, one can fan the binding, tie the front cover to the back cover (with provided laces), and create a miniature art gallery. The etchings are floating, each in its own mat opening. [The term "floating" means that all the edges of the paper upon which the image is carried are visible, and that the opening of the mat around it is larger than the piece itself. So, it is said to be floating within the space created by the surrounding mat opening.] Because they are matted, and thus below the surface of the page, they are not pressed against one another when the book is closed. This would result in the ink from one offsetting (a faint mirror image) onto the face of another. The folded panels which carry the etchings are two plies thick, one ply to carry the etching and one ply for the mat that surrounds it. The paper is folded to create two separate pages with either side glued to the fore edge of its carrier page. The thickness of the folded piece of paper now needs accommodation in the gap that it creates near the sewn spine. Spacers are used for this task, making the spacers not only functional, but also visually attractive. This book is the spark that will later fuel my obsession with form as function, as my coming structures will evince.

I called this a "fan" binding when it was introduced, but it has since been renamed a "star" binding by the many who have duplicated it. I call it by both names in the workshops where I teach this unusually popular binding. The original star binding that predates this sewn version has no sewing whatsoever. It is an accordion folded piece of paper with a front and back cover attached to the first and last folded page. So, to make a distinction between the two structures, perhaps the sewn version should be termed "fan" binding as originally labeled.

©Book Club of California

JD’A 21: THE TWILIGHT OF ORTHODOXY IN NEW ENGLAND — 1987

[around red and gold sunset with cutout areas] THE TWILIGHT OF ORTHODOXY IN NEW ENGLAND by William Nykamp | [below sunset] California State University, Nortbridge Libraries | SANTA SUSANA PRESS | 1987.

5 3/4 x 8 3/4 inches: endpaper marbled on recto. [i–ii]: blank, [iii]: title, [iv]: copyright, [v]: preface, [vi]: blank, 1–51: text except [7]: image, [25]: text and image, [41]: image, [52]: blank, 53–60: notes, 61–65: bibliography, [66]: blank, endpaper marbled on verso. Colophon on inside of back cover.

Colophon: 

This first edition of William Nykamp's

The Twilight of Orthodoxy in New England,

has been designed, printed and bound

by D’Ambrosio

using hand set 14 pt. Centaur type,

and printed on Johannot paper

with a Vandercook proof press

exclusively for Santa Susana Press

under the direction of 

Norman E. Tanis,

Director of Libraries,

California State University, Northridge.

This is copy

No. [# in pencil]

of sixty copies. [ornament]

Images:

[7]: Thomas Paine, on left: [#] [signed by D’Ambrosio ‘87]

[25]: Church [#] [signed by D’Ambrosio ‘87]

[41]: Thomas Jefferson, on right: [#] [signed by D’Ambrosio ‘87]

Binding: Marbled paper with ovoid window containing gold sunset rays of gilt cast paper. Black leather spine with double hinge at spine and 1 1/2 inch from spine, ovoid sunset on spine. 

From 19 Years and Counting:

The Twilight of Orthodoxy in New England by William Nykamp

Santa Susana Press

Edition: 60 numbered copies, and 5 artist proofs

Size: 5-3/4 x 8-3/4 inches

Type: 14 pt. Centaur

Leaves: 36 - Johannot paper

Binding: Black leather and marbled paper over boards hinged with plastic rods; gilt cast paper

1987

Turning a serious scholarly work into an art object was no easy task, and that is why I decided to do it. Beginning with Fournier type and Rives lightweight paper, I printed the first half three times before realizing that both were wrong for the subject matter. The fourth printing with Centaur type and Johannot paper led to the book's completion. My grateful thanks go to Norman Tanis, Dean of Libraries at California State University, Northridge (where Santa Susana Press is based), for his patience during the two years that it took.

This was my first overt use of unorthodox even margins on the far left and right side of facing pages as opposed to the traditional justification only on the right margin of each page. The first time that I used this device was in The Small Garden of Gloria Stuart (page 90), but it is used in conjunction with a colored design, and is not readily apparent.

This book contains three wood-block prints. A contradiction may occur when one sees the wood block used to print the image of Thomas Paine. In the block, he is facing the same direction that he is on the page. In printing, everything is reversed, and he should be facing in the opposite direction. When I changed type faces, it altered the text flow, and this print settled on a recto page. It was planned for a verso page. Rather than carve it again, I had a reverse metal plate made of the original, and then printed accordingly.

The leather portion of the binding is hinged by wrapping it around plastic rods. This was done in the hope that the absence of a bendable joint in the leather will preclude its cracking in future years. The cast paper "sunset" was coated with three separate layers of glue, and then a coat of clay-color was added prior to gilding with 23K gold. I use a leaf which has a little copper in it to emit a warmer tone. The front cover is fitted with upright sides which 

which completely enclose the pages. It is bound within a box similar to some of my earlier works.

From A Memoir of Book Design:

Turning a serious scholarly work into an art object was no easy task, which is why I decided to do it. Also, the person who gave me the commission, Norman Tanis, Dean of Libraries at that time for California State University, Northridge, is the secret author of the work that is attributed to William Nykamp on the title page. It concerns the resistance in the New England colonies to Thomas Paine's revolutionary concept of secular responsibility. I enjoyed playing along with the ruse that the author was dead, and the chance to make the dry expository writing into something more subectively palatable.Beginning with the Fournier typeface and Rives lightweight paper, I printed the first half of this book three times before realizing that both the type and the paper were wrong for the subject matter. The fourth printing with Bruce Roger's Centaur type and Johannot paper led to the book's completion. The Fournier typeface made the text look too much as if it should be an article in the Los Angeles Times (aspersion unintended), and the cream-colored Rives lightweight paper diffused the crisp look necessary for this text, which the white surface of the Johannot brought forth.

My grateful thanks go to Norman Tanis (the creator and publisher of Santa Susana Press) [The name is derived from the Santa Susana mountains that are just to the north of Northridge and the college.] for his patience during the two years that it took to complete the run of sixty copies. However, my unorthodox method of production exhausted the finances I quoted and received for this book. Thus, when it came to the binding, I had to make some adjustments because I had run out of money—adjustments that proved to be another step forward into the realm of book structure: the hinged binding that was used on the preceding copper binding (because I was in the process of creating this book when the opportunity for the copper binding arose). I had promised a leather binding. Funds did not permit that promise to be fulfilled. I speculated that if I used very thin, inexpensive skiver leather as a quarter binding, I could probably achieve my goal. [Quarter binding is a term that arose from the need to produce less expensive bindings. Leather covers only the spine and about one fourth of the width of the cover. That leaves the other three-fourths area to be done in something less expensive such as marbled paper, or even plain paper in a complementary color. During the Second World War eighth binding was introduced in England because of the difficulty in procuring materials. It, of course, covers only one eighth of the covers.] I mentioned this to my good friend, Joanne Miller, a conservation binder then alive and well in San Francisco, and she cautioned me to rethink my plans. She said, "Skiver will deteriorate in as little as twenty-five years." So, to keep my honor and integrity as much for myself as for my good friend Joanne, I devised a method to use the skiver leather and still maintain a joint in the cover—a hinged joint. This is truly a direct result of the cliché, "Necessity is the mother of invention." However, it also helps to discuss a problem with your peers for new insight into one's responsibilities. Clearly, admitting one’s error in judgment can evoke new horizons.

I wrapped black leather around very thin acrylic rods in the joint area

where a normal bend would occur when the cover is opened. The hinging method is similar to what is known as a piano hinge, because that is where this hinge is so often seen. And it works quite nicely. Used in conjunction with a book-in-a-box Structure, it is extremely protective, and only time can tell how durable. My guess is that it will last as long as the material of which it is made, but longer than if that material were constantly bent when the covers are opened and closed. A noted rare book librarian once told me that a book begins to deteriorate at the first opening of its covers.

A cast paper see through sunset covered in gold leaf along with French marbled paper completes the binding. As with my previous cast paper, 1 handcrafted a clay model and then poured plaster of Paris over it to create a reverse mold. When paper is cast directly into plaster, a release agent is extremely helpful so the finished work can be removed without tearing it apart. In later years will use, instead of plaster, a latex mold that is much more easily removed because it is as flexible as a rubber glove. It was necessary to seal the porous surface of the cast paper with several coats of white glue so the gilding would have a nice smooth surface upon which to shine. It is also a much better surface for the fixative that bonds the gold leaf to the surface. Otherwise, the fixative would simply sink into the fiber surface of the paper and nothing would be accomplished. The back of the sunset is also gilded. 

The title page is a serigraphed sunburst image shaped as an ellipse that is more like a comet with a portion of the sun as its head and its rays trailing behind like a tail. The title and author are printed around this image. In order to print around the ellipse, I had to cut the figure out of a piece of wood, and then line up the type around the opening. It certainly would have been much easier if I had set it up with a cut and paste method and then had a printing plate made, but | wanted the experience of printing an ellipsoid directly with lead type. Perhaps I was just trying to prove to myself that I could accomplish the more difficult task. The area between the rays of the sun are cut out with an Xacto knife, and the viewer can see through to the page below upon which the preface is printed in Tiger Lily orange ink. The rays of the su are screened in silkscreen gold ink.

This was my first overt use of unorthodox even margins on the far left and right side of facing pages, as opposed to the traditional justification only on the right margin of each page. This configuration creates a ragged edge of the type on both sides of the fold (the gutter). The first time that I used this device was in The Small Garden of Gloria Stuart (1986), but it is there used in conjunction with a colored design beneath the text and is not readily apparent. Used in its purest form, this design element presents a double page spread clearly contained within its margins, and invites the eye to remain within its boundaries. Some may speculate that a ragged left hand margin makes the text difficult to read because in Western cultures that is where the eye begins to read the line. It poses no problem except for a widow [A "widow" is one single word on a line-usually the last line of a paragraph, and it is unacceptable to most typographers because it leaves too much white space between paragraphs.] or a sparsely worded last line of a paragraph. This is resolved by moving the line to the evenly spaced side and filling in the resultant space with dingbats. [A dingbat is a type ornament which when used repeatedly becomes a decorative line.] That is how the typography in this book is designed. Is it justifiable? Perhaps I should rephrase the question. Is the visual stimulation along with the readability of the text beguiling enough to engage a reader? Remember, the visual must complement the text, and not overshadow it.

As with the pagination of The Small Garden of Gloria Stuart, I printed an existing type ornament of a quarter sunburst pattern and then the page number separately where the body of the orb would normally be. I did not drill a hole in the ornament as before. I merely printed the page number separately. Getting all the various colors to line up with one another in separate printings is not easy on a hand press (especially one with a cylinder tympan), but it can be done quite nicely if each piece of paper is first placed in the front grippers and the back side (the side that will flap when the cylinder is rolling over the type) is taped to the cylinder with masking tape. It must be a tape that is easily removable or each press run will take infinitely longer than is usual. It also helps to have a mylar draw sheet on the tympan because the tape is easily pulled away from it. The pagination is at the lower left hand corner for the verso page and the lower right hand corner for the recto page. Hence the numbers are along those margins that are evenly spaced. The quarter sunburst is printed in Tiger Lily orange ink, while the page number is printed in the same black ink as the text. Thus the page numbers radiate from their corners, but, surprisingly, they are not intrusive. In fact, they are a pleasant addition to the whole.

The text of this book contains three woodblock prints. No attempt has been made to cover up the fact that a piece of wood was carved to create these prints. In fact, in many areas, I dug out the grain of the wood to make it even more apparent. The woodblocks were not printed on an etching press as is the usual case, but on my Vandercook letterpress, which is not designed for that function. The blocks were raised to a type high elevation by placing different thicknesses of paper underneath them. Perhaps it is fitting that the blocks were not printed on an etching press because they would probably have cracked under the pressure created by such a press. They were carved from soft wood (pine) rather than from strong boxwood. The grain's inability to fight back offered me the freedom to be more bold than fussy. 

The first print is of Thomas Paine. The image was taken from an oil painting of his era. If one sees the actual woodblock from which this was printed, a contradiction occurs. The man in the woodblock carving is facing in the same direction as the man in the print. One should be a reverse of the other—a mirror image, but it isn't. When I changed the type face to print the text, it resulted in typography which flowed differently.

This resulted in the print of Thomas Paine ending up on a recto side looking away from the facing page. I did not wish to carve another block of wood. I had a metal plate made of the print and asked the etchers to flip the portrait when making it so that the composition of Thomas Paine would face the text on the facing page and not draw the eye away from it by looking off the paper from the right margin. It is printed in black ink. This image was carved from a piece of plywood (laminated layers of wood). Digging out the grain to show that it indeed is a piece of wood was far easier because I simply had to go down only one layer of the tiered fabrication.

The second print is of a spired country church nestled in a pastoral setting. The church is printed in black ink. Behind the church, printed in orange ink is the light of a violent sunset. This print reflects the entire purpose of the text, which is to bring to light the Christian church's conflict with the new humanistic thinking of that era. Since these blocks were carved after I had changed the typeface, no accommodations

were necessary and they were printed directly from the blocks.

The third print is of Thomas Jefferson. When I researched what Thomas Jefferson looked like in order to replicate his image, I found that paintings of him from different time periods showed extremely different-looking men. In fact, the subjects didn't even look as though they could be brothers. I decided to use a portrait painted during the era of the subject matter of this text; a line at the bottom of the print proclaims the year the original image was chronicled. Once again, if the designer can justify his or her decisions, then the roar of a critic can be quelled with no loss to one's stomach lining. In this case, my reasoning was to align the date of the painting with the date of the subject

matter of the text.

The colophon [A colophon is a statement that gives credit to all who are responsible for the production of a book. It may also describe the paper and the typeface used.] is usually printed on the last page of a book. Since the reprinting of this book upset the original plans for the number of pages assigned to each signature, I ended up with the final page of printing on the very last page of the last signature. There was no page available for the colophon. I could have glued in an extra page. But I didn't, because it would not open properly by having one edge adhered to the last page. In fact it would make the colophon page another flyleaf. I knew that it would not look aesthetically pleasing, and besides, the basic thrust of my work is to forge new avenues from self imposed or chance restrictions. [When |was in the U.S. Navy as a radio operator aboard an ice-breaker, we went to the South Pole and were out to sea for six months with no supply ports on our route. Everything we needed had to be brought with us. Con-sequently, we learned how to do without or to improvise by using what we had on hand.] | glued the printed colophon to the inside of the back cover. It looks quite nice there surrounded by the French marbled paper. An objection has never been voiced. Something similar happened years later when I would do the Poe book, Al Aaraaf (1995). However, in that case, when I ran out of pages at the end of the book, the result became far different because it wasn't the colophon, but the notes that were intended for the back of the book. And, once again, a new design plan arose from an unexpected problem. 

I purposely have not permitted myself to have a machine that will impress a title in gold on the spine of a book. If I had one, I would probably use it. And then my bindings would look like every other binder's work. My work is about extending the boundaries of the book arts, and, consequently, I could not put a title on the leather spine of this book because it would be the conventional thing to do. Adhering a printed title on paper to the spine was not to my liking either because the fibrous surface of plain paper conflicts with the smooth surface of leather. It is more compatible with a cloth cover. This is one of those cases where it is difficult for me to explain why I can't accept a certain design aspect—it just looks wrong. Instead, I glued a small round piece of the French marbled paper that was used as the endpapers to the spine where a title might normally be. If one goes to the bookcase looking for this book, the visual communication of that round object will be just as effective as one that has to be read.

©Book Club of California

[between drawings of two figures and green leaves] A Leaf from | "THE FIRST OF MAY” | A FAIRY MASQUE | with an essay on Walter Crane | by | Carolyn Johnson | Stone & Lorson, Publishers | Fullerton, California | 1988

17 1/4 x 15 inches: leaf from the first of May inside an envelope that is open and creates a matt around the leaf, i: reproduction of prospectus of the original book, ii: title page, iii: publisher’s note, iv: title of THE ART OF WALTER CRANE | by |CAROLINE JOHNSON, 1–7: text, 8: bibliography, [9]: [inserted Designer’s Statement, signed by D’Ambrosio ’88] colophon.

Designer’s Statement:

"A Leaf From THE FIRST OF MAY"

[ornament] Designer’s Statement [ornament]

The text of this work has been intentionally printed in a light gray tone to minimize the contrast between it and the extremely light printing of the letters on the original leaf. Also, the two shades of gray ink on the title page are intentional. Not only does this add "depth" to the flat surface of the paper, but the extremely light printing of the imagery serves to show what the original leaf looked like before color was added. The Grant's Green ink used for the bower decorations on the title page and within the text was printed so lightly and the coat of ink on the printing press rollers had to be so thin that the ink thereon dried within minutes— hand inking with a brayer had to be employed.

[signature D’Ambrosio ’88]

Colophon:

This edition of A Leaf From The First of May 

limited to 5o copies has been designed by 

D'Ambrosio using hand set Centaur type, 

and printed on Somerset paper with a 

Vandercook No. 4 proof press 

using slate gray ink, for 

Stone & Lorson

Publishers,

1988.

[quill pens]

[acorn]

[signature of Carmen Voss

[signature of Carolyn Johnson]

Binding: Clam-shell box of ecru-colored linen and gold tea chest paper over (and within boards; clear plastic opening in front cover

From 19 Years and Counting:

A Leaf from

THE FIRST OF MAY with an essay on Walter Crane

S&L Publishers

Edition: 50 copies

Size: 17-1/2 x 15-1/2 inches

Type: 14 pt. Centaur

Leaves: 14 - Somerset paper

Binding: Clam-shell box of ecru-colored

linen and gold tea chest paper over (and within boards; clear plastic opening in front cover

This is the first work in which I included a designer's statement. In my efforts to complement the printing on the original leaf without overpowering it, I had to print the text of the essay about the leaf in an extremely light tone of gray ink. I felt that justification to the reader was necessary. & The transparent opening in the front cover of the clam-shell box actually frames the original antique leaf, allowing it to be viewed and protected at the same time. The leaf was originally printed in 1881 on India paper. I chose to print the essay on Somerset paper. I later learned that the Somerset mill in England obtains its cotton rags to make their paper from India. However, the leaf itself is enclosed in a window envelope of Arches text wove paper because it is much easier to fold into an envelope than the thicker Somerset. The prospectus for the original folio, The First of May, included in this edition, is a reproduction of the original. However, the leaf itself is quite genuine.

From A Memoir of Book Design:

A "leaf book" is a book that uses as its central theme a leaf (or a page) from another book-usually one that is an antique or out of print. It is frowned upon to intentionally tear an old book apart to create a new edition of books from it, each bearing a genuine leaf. It is acceptable, as in this case, to do so when the book is already falling apart, or not completely intact in the first place. This ensures a larger audience for the work because it is shared by more than if it were left in a number of tattered pieces. This edition also carries an essay about the artist Walter Crane and the making of the original book

The original book is a large folio utilizing the then new medium of daguerreotype, whereby the artist drew in pencil and then, through a photographic operation, the drawing was transferred to a silver-coated copper plate for printing. Walter Crane did the illustrations, but each print was hand colored by someone else. The lines of the drawings are very light gray, which evokes the pencil that was used to create them. The image is extremely delicate in nature, and the pencil lines are a wonderful background skeleton just beneath the hand colored surface image. This is the first work in which I included a designer's statement. Because of the delicateness of the lines, in my efforts to complement the printing on the original leaf without overpowering it, I had to print the text of the accompanying essay in an extremely light tone of gray ink or it would be stronger than the original material. I felt that justification for the light printing ink was necessary. 

The clam-shell box that houses the leaf and the unbound essay is ecru cloth over archival board. The face of the box has an opening in which the entire leaf can be viewed. This opening carries a sheet of Plexiglas that allows viewing and protection of the leaf at the same time. However, the protection is physical, and every precaution should be taken to keep the leaf from being exposed to direct sunlight.

Recessed bar areas surround the face of the Plexiglas opening. These expose floral expressions depressed into gold tea-chest paper. Strips of archival board were first wrapped with gold tea-chest paper, and then metal plates made from hand drawings were depressed into the strips. The title on the spine is also recessed below the surface of the first layer of cloth-covered board by laminating the plies separately.

The leaf was originally printed in 1881 on India paper. I chose to print the essay on Somerset paper because that was the closest duplication of color and texture to the original that I could find at the time. I later learned from Wally Dawes at The Paper Source that the Somerset mill in England obtains cotton rags to make their paper from India. However, the leaf itself is enclosed in a window envelope of Arches text wove paper because it is much easier to fold into an envelope than the thicker Somerset. The prospectus for the initial offering of The First of May was reproduced and included in this new leaf edition.

©Book Club of California

JD’A 23: TYPE FACES: WARD RITCHIE  – 1988

TYPE-FACES: | A | Photographic | Study of | WARD | RITCHIE | by Amanda Blanco | with a foreword by | Lawrence Clark Powell | SANTA SUSANA PRESS | California State University, | Northridge Libraries | 1988.

20 leaves measuring 9 x 12 inches laid loosely in clam shell box, i: title, ii: title page as noted above, copyright on verso, iii–v: forward, photos 1–12 of Ward Ritchie, some with other people with captions, signed by Blanco and numbered, [13–14]: About the photographer by Norman E. Tanis, [15]: colophon.

Colophon:

This first edition of 

Amanda Blanco's 

original photographs of

Ward Ritchie,

with a foreword by

Lawrence Clark Powell,

has been designed, printed, and produced 

by D'Ambrosio

using hand set Della Robbia type 

and a Vandercook No. 4 proof press, 

with photographs printed and mounted 

by Amanda Blanco 

on 2-ply archival board, 

exclusively for Santa Susana Press 

under the direction of 

Norman E. Tanis, 

Director of Libraries,

California State University, Northridge.

This is copy

No. [#]

of sixty-five copies.

[signature of Ward Ritchie]

[signature of Lawrence Clark Powell]

[signature of D’Ambrosio ’88]

Brown linen clam-shell box measuring 9 1/2 x 12 3/4 inches with ridges covering on an opening like a camera aperture with the initials W R in the center. Circular opening in spine.

From 19 Years and Counting:

Type-Faces: Ward Ritchie

A Photographic Study by Amanda Blanco

Santa Susana Press

Edition: 65 numbered copies, and 10 artist proofs

Size: 9-1/2 x 12-3/4 inches

Type: 14 pt. Della Robbia

Leaves: 20 - 2-ply archival board

Binding: Clam-shell box of brown linen over boards; Ingres paper lining

1988

This portfolio, in which the photographer Amanda Blanco printed and mounted her own photos, was designed to complement her work, and be a testament to the master printer and designer, Ward Ritchie. I used a type face reminiscent of the style he used when he apprenticed in Paris in the 1930's, and printed in a tone of gray to match that of the photographs. Since I know Ward Ritchie personally, I tried to make this work portray not only the aspects of his career, but also to mirror the warm and sensitive person that he truly is. Lawrence Clark Powell, in writing the foreword for this portfolio, set the groundwork for this goal. I chose the sequence of photographs, and wrote the captions to stress the man as well as his work. I also created the main title with this aim in mind. & One of the most important parts of producing a work is choosing the best paper for the job that it is required to do. In this case, it not only had to be archival and strong enough to carry a photograph, but also, if it were too thick, it would not fit into the paper grippers of the Vander-cook press to print the captions. I was very pleased when I discovered that 2-ply board would indeed work in the press. But, printing the stiff board on a circular tympan required taping the opposite edge of each sheet down or it would "flap" into the type as the drum rolled along the printing bed.

The clam-shell box which houses this collection of photographs had to be as austere as possible so as not to overpower the subject matter, and yet be strong enough to make someone gravitate to it. A sculptural effect was the answer, and the vortex of a camera shutter the obvious choice. The shutter device is used again in the poster/broadside (facing page) which was done in conjunction with this portfolio. However, in this instance, the viewer is placed inside the camera at the very millisecond the shutter "clicks" and the light image of Ward Ritchie enters the camera to strike the film.

From A Memoir of Book Design:

This portfolio, in which the photographer Amanda Blanco printed and mounted her own photos, was designed to be a testament to the master printer, typographer, and designer Ward Ritchie. The photos are unbound within a clam-shell (or side-hinged) box. I used a typeface reminiscent of the style Ward used when he apprenticed with François Louis Schmied in Paris in the 1930s, Della Robbia, and printed in a tone of gray to match that of the photographs (the type that you are reading is a digital version of Della Robbia). Since 1 knew Ward personally, I tried to make this work portray not only aspects of his career, but also to mirror the warm and sensitive personal side of the man.

Lawrence Clark Powell, Ward's longtime friend who wrote the portfolio's foreword, laid the groundwork for this goal. I chose the sequence of photographs from the many Amanda showed me, and wrote the captions to stress the man as well as

his work. I also created the main title with this aim in mind.

This work was commissioned by Norman Tanis, the dean of libraries of the California State University, Northridge, for the Santa Susana Press. Norman and Amanda had once been companions prior to Norman's marriage. I did not know this when I began the project, but l certainly learned about it as the project continued. During the process of producing this book, Amanda became angry with Norman, and for a while I could not discover where she was living. No one could reach her and she had in her possession all of the captioned sheets upon which she was to mount the photographs. At some point a mediation between the two was agreed upon, a deal was struck (probably over funds), and work continued.

One of the most important parts of producing a work is choosing the best paper for the job. In this case, it not only had to be archival and strong enough to carry a photograph, but, also, it had to fit into the paper grippers of the Vandercook press to print the captions. I was very pleased when I discovered that two-ply board would indeed work in the press. But printing the stiff board on a circular tympan required taping the opposite edge of each sheet down so it would not flap into the type as the drum rolled along the printing bed and cause an erratic printing alignment and a fuzzy inked impression. Amanda mounted the photographs to the board after the printing of the captions was completed.

The clam-shell box that houses this collection of photographs had to be as austere as possible so as not to overpower the subject matter, and yet strong enough to make a viewer gravitate to it. A sculptural effect was the answer, and the vortex of a camera shutter the obvious choice. Sections of curved single-ply archival board were fanned around a central point to create a vortex, and then covered with brown book cloth. (Why brown? I still have the Kodak Brownie box camera my father used in the '30s to chronicle our family history. It is not brown, but red. However, the word "brownie" must have stuck to my neurons.) It was necessary to use a hot household iron to adhere the cloth to the separate layers of board. The glue is water-based so a hot iron hurries the drying process by quickly dispersing the liquid, leaving only the glue (which is what actually happens but takes longer if it is left to air dry). Without the aid of a quick-drying process, the cloth would tend to lift itself from the different levels before the entire piece could be totally adhered in all areas. However, caution is recommended as overheating could also separate the plies of the archival board beneath the cloth. The opening in the center of the vortex has the initials "WR" printed on gray paper. When Ward signed his fine press books, he did so by printing his initials and the numbered sequence of the work in the colophon. For example, his sixth separate book would carry in the back

of the book, WR6.

As in the previous book I did for Santa Susana Press, The Twilight of Orthodoxy in New England, I did not use a title on the spine. Instead, what appears is the eyepiece or viewfinder of a box camera. It, too, is obvious enough to cue a seeker looking at spines in a bookcase. n Norman wanted a review of this work for publicity reasons so he sent a copy to the book section of the Sunday Los Angeles Times. It was returned (and rejected with no explanation) with the hinged joint of the clam-shell box sliced by a razor blade. Apparently, the recipient did not know how to open a clam-shell box to access the contents. And yet the reviewer worked for the book section of a major U.S. newspaper. Many times what is familiar and simple to each one of us is indeed quite

complicated and mysterious to someone else.

Once, when Norman Tanis's name was mentioned in the presence of Larry Powell, Larry commented: "Oh, that maverick." The remark was not said with malice; there was a smile on his face. My grateful thanks go out to that "maverick," for without him California State University, Northridge, would not have risen to its high stature; and the first robotic library in the country (severely damaged in the 1994 earthquake) would never have been realized. Also, I would probably be either pumping gas at a petrol station, or slinging hamburgers in a fast food restaurant in Southern California's San Fernando Valley.

©Book Club of California

JD’A 24: WINDJAMMERS  – 1988

From 19 Years and Counting:

"WINDJAMMERS"

by Duncan Gleason

Lorson's Books & Prints

Edition: 21 copies

Size: 11-1/4 x 15-1/2 inches Type: 14 pt. Della Robbia

Leaves: 20 - Rives BFK cream paper Binding: Marbled paper, Ingres paper,

and black canvas over boards; decorative 7-ply linen thread

"Windjammers" is a presentation of fifteen original etchings of sailing vessels by Duncan Gleason. Each one is tipped into place with linen library tape hinges. A gutter spacer, which is actually an extension of an adjacent page, acts as a buffer so the pages are not directly pressing upon the prints, and should preclude the need for tissue to prevent offsetting of the ink onto a facing page. The signatures are sewn to linen tapes with doubled strands of 3-ply linen thread. The book block is bound in a box which protects it from light and dust. The front cover is designed to evoke the billow of a sail, and the sea (marbled paper). A ship's rigging is suggested by random crisscrossings of 7-ply linen threads over the marbled paper. The title is printed on the front cover in an arc which conforms to the arc of the billowing sail, and is repeated on the title page in an opposite arc. The spine title is printed on Ingres paper, and pasted to black canvas over 8-ply archival board.

From A Memoir of Book Design:

Windjammers is a presentation of fifteen original etchings of old sailing vessels expertly done by artist Duncan Gleason. This is another one of those cases where I delight in defying the old cliché, "You can’t tell a book by its cover."

The exterior is a book-in-a-box structure. It is quarter bound in black cloth (on the front cover only-the back cover is all black cloth) and blue paper over archival boards. The blue paper on the front cover frames an image that is shaped like a billowing sail. Behind it is French marbled paper evoking a churning sea. Running diagonally and intersecting over the marbled paper are white cords used to suggest rigging ropes. The title is printed on the blue paper in an are that follows the arc of the billowy opening. It is also printed on blue paper and glued to the spine. After printing, the paper is sprayed with a fixative to prevent oily fingertips from marring the surface.

Some of the edition was bound many years after the original offering and carry a slightly different cover treatment. That is because | learn as l continue to experiment. The later copies have an extra board that is attached to the back cover in the fore edge area of the binding. This extra board wraps around the tableau of the front cover and protects it when the book is slid between other books in a bookcase. It is similar to the wraparound cover on Emily & Oscar (1979). So, why did I wait over ten years to incorporate this very excellent protective feature into this binding? Why didn't I do it when I bound the first part of the edition? Because, quite simply, I forgot. My nature, or defense mechanism, has taught me to look to the future with a good eye turned to the near past upon which to build for the future, but a blind eye to the long ago past because it is not relevant. But of course, it is. Some of this can be directly attributed to my attending The Illinois Institute of Technology to become an electrical engineer, where the method of instruction was not to memorize-too much knowledge clutters the brain-but to remember where to look for the answer to a problem; even our tests were open book. It is a good system and it works. It's the individual who needs fine tuning.

The signatures are sewn to linen tapes with doubled strands of three-ply linen thread. Each folio page is full size on one side, but only less than an inch beyond the opposite folded side. When these are sewn together the short side creates a spacer effect and lifts the preceding page above the one below it. The extra space allows for the thickness of the print to be tipped into place with linen library tape. It also ensures that the facing page does not press against the etching, which would encourage offsetting of the etching ink. The book in a-box structure also helps because the uprights of the box keep the cover elevated and, consequently, it is not pressing down on the pages. I have seen many books that include etchings and also include over the etching another piece of loose, very thin tissue to keep offsetting from occurring. This does work, but the flimsy tissue generally falls onto itself and crumples into a crushed mass. In those cases where it does not adhere, its lightness causes it to waft when a page is turned and the resulting creases prevent it from accomplishing its original mission. This binding was created to remedy that situation.

©Book Club of California