Lost Art Press

I Wish we had a Copperplate Press

Posted on by Lost Art Press
A 19th-century copperplate press on display at the Dutches Museum in Munich.
A 19th-century copperplate press on display at the Dutches Museum in Munich.

One of the most astonishing things about studying early plates in books such as A.-J. Roubo’s “L’Art du menuisier” is that the plates are not simply two-dimensional. There is a great deal of texture. The paper is radically depressed in the field where the paper went through the copperplate press. And you can feel every line.

Last week at the Deutches Museum in Munich I spent the most time in the museum’s section on printing. I didn’t need to read much about the letterpress; we had one of those in college that I played with all the time instead of studying. But the copperplate press and its exhibit were fascinating. The exhibit showed how the thin copper plates were coated in acid-resistant wax and soot, and then how the engraver etched through these top mediums to create the image. Then the plate was dipped in acid to cut the image into the copper.

You can read more about this process on Wikipedia here.

Here is the (uncorrected) description of how the press works from the Deutches Museum.

A great deal of pressure is necessary for the manufacture of a copperplate engraving, in order to press the paper into the cuts and to suck the ink out. Letterpress printing machines with a platen are not really suited to the purpose. In the sixteenth century, presses with their own back pressure cylinders were used for the first time.

With the star wheel, the copperplate printer moves the running board, plate and wooden cloths through between the two rollers. The upper roller produces the pressure, the lower one transports the running board. Due to the high pressure, the printer needs both his hands and also his feet to move the star wheel.

The copperplate press is a reminder of the sheer amount of labor and willpower needed to create a book like Roubo’s in the 18th century. Even though our translation seems like a lot of work (I’m proofing the index today), it pales in comparison to what Roubo and the printers of the day had to do to produce the original volumes.

Viva la Macintosh.

— Christopher Schwarz

How Grindstones are Made

Posted on by fitz

grindstone_farmer

Berea, Ohio is a town of 3500 inhabitants, situated on the Cleveland, Columbus, and Cincinnati Railroad, and the Cleveland and Toledo Railroad, twelve miles southwest of Cleveland, and six miles from the shore of Lake Erie. It has long been favorably known as the location of the Baldwin University, the German Wallace College, and the extensive and valuable stone quarries.

Either of these interests is sufficient to give the town a position of some importance in Northern Ohio, but its grindstones make it known in business circles as the great emporium of sharpening material. The quarries are situated along the bed and banks of Rocky River, a small stream, and a smaller creek falling into the river about the centre of town. They are now open for three miles on the river, and one mile on the creek.

The quality of the stone was discovered in 1830, by John Baldwin, a name of many eccentricities but some most excellent qualities. In 1830 and 1831, he employed two Irishmen to cut two tons of grindstones in his cellar. These were mostly sent to Canada for a market. In 1832, Mr. Baldwin invented the present method of turning stone, and commenced operations, the whole season’s work amounting to about twenty tons—a sufficient quantity to stock the market. These first efforts produced very indifferent stone, but success finally crowned the effort. The business has increased until it now employs, in all its departments, about a thousand men, and over $1,000,000 capital.
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Lost its Original Meaning

Posted on by fitz

village_carpenterAs to the ancient furniture of good English oak, of which wood Cobbett (though I should hardly quote him as a sterling authority on such a matter) says the furniture of an Englishman’s house always ought to be, how pleasingly solid and substantial it looks, the heaviest man might plump himself down on the settle or the chairs in security.

Without the needful cushions, I grant the settle would look bare and uncomfortable in use; but with the soft, loose cushions about, that you can adjust to your own liking, it is in reality the perfection of ease. And how much better and more healthy this arrangement of loose cushions is than the usual stuffed sofa, that collects the dust which can never be wholly removed in the once-a-year spring overhaul.

With the old fashioned settle the loose cushions can readily and quickly be taken out of doors every morning and beaten free of the previous day’s dust, and so be kept ever sweet and clean. And how the good old furniture lasts, and how at home it looks in an old house: the “wood carpenter,” as he called himself, who made these chairs and tables so shapely and so strong, had no idea of a fashion in furniture changing continually, he thought in generations, not in years.

“By hammer and hand shall all things stand,” and the ancient craftsman wrought “by hammer and hand”; and so proud was he of his productions that he frequently carved the year of their making upon them, as the builder did upon his houses.

The big factory where goods are turned out wholesale by machinery was not thought of then. Now a machine has no brains, no feelings, so the articles it turns out have a smooth, uninteresting finish, they are not imbued with the personality of the hand maker, and they lack the subtle charm of it.

I almost fancy that the word manufacture has lost its original meaning, for when I hear of manufactured goods, I always think of machinery and steam; yet the word manufacture, I learn from my dictionary, means hand made, being derived from manus, the hand, and factum, a making.

James John Hissey

The Charm of the Road: England and Wales – 1910

– Jeff Burks

Design of the Moving Plane Arrangement

Posted on by fitz

hardware_window_advertising_01

Too Much in a Window is Worse than Too Little

If the display is carefully studied it will be noticed that just enough goods are shown to suggest the line carried. A small assortment of up-to-date samples often proves more effective than a window crowded with samples of well known goods, which everyone knows can be found in a stock carrying such new and thoroughly up-to-date goods.

The firm in whose window the display was made (Fig. 10), carries one of the most complete lines of tools in the metropolis. Hence it would have been easy to fill the window from top to bottom with goods. But this concern, as well as all successful window display advertisers, recognized the value of exhibiting only a limited number. Such a window has greater selling power than one in which samples of all lines are placed, entailing considerable expenditure of thought, time and money.
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Early Dividers from Pompeii

Posted on by Lost Art Press

pompeii_compass_IMG_6389

Here are the earliest dividers I’ve seen in person. These bronze dividers (or “compass” if your name is Peter or Jennie) were found in the ruins of Pompeii, which was destroyed in A.D. 79.

The originals reside in the Munich Residenz. Museum officials made a copy that is displayed in the Deutches Museum in Munich. A quick search of the web site of the Residenz revealed nothing about the dividers – mostly just pictures of the jewelry of princes and the like. Yawn.

These bronze dividers are interesting because they are a lot like the slightly more modern tools used for navigating on the sea. (Lee Valley offered a set in brass I believe.)

The Deutches Museum was a treasure trove of cool tools relating to making things, everything from an entire section on sectors to water-powered machinery, shipbuilding, early machine tools, the history of casting, you name it.

The best part: Every room smelled like a different lubricant.

I was able to see only a portion of the collection this morning before we had to catch a train. Next time I have to plan an entire day at the museum.

On the topic of classes for next year, Dictum officials have asked me to submit some topics of classes to teach in Germany next year. While I am trying to reduce my teaching schedule next year, it would be foolish to turn down a trip to Bavaria now that I can count to 10 in German.

So here were some of the students’ ideas for courses:

• Roubo workbench (I can already hear my back whining)
• Campaign chest
• Campaign writing desk or shaving kit
• Officers’ portable desk.

I also need to come up with ideas for one- or two-day courses. But I’ll work on that another day – right now I need to finish a chapter in my book on campaign furniture.

— Christopher Schwarz