April Fool's, 2011

Four years ago today I was accepted into the University of Iowa Center for the Book’s MFA in Book Arts program. At the time I was living in Nashville, Tennessee and well into my fifth year working as a letterpress printer, designer, and occasional cat bather at the historic American letterpress Mecca, Hatch Show Print.

Hatch Show Print's storefront at their previous location on Lower Broadway in downtown Nashville, TN.

I began my career at this 130+ year old Nashville institution in 2006 after graduating from Maryville College with a BA in Fine Arts. I had a fair amount of experience in relief printing but none with letterpress. Hatch Show Print has a reputation for their intense and much sought after internship program. Eager to learn, I was invited by then Production Manager and all around illustration extraordinaire, Agnes Barton-Sabo to join the ranks.

Brad Vetter teaching a group of summer interns.

At Hatch Show Print there is no time to dip your toes in the inky pool of letterpress job printing. The internship program is designed so that the pool is instantly knee deep. Within the first few weeks interns are designing with type in hand, talking directly with clients, and rubbing elbows with some of the most talented letterpress printers and artists that I have ever known. My letterpress instructor, Brad Vetter, had already been working at Hatch for several years and was an expert designer and artist in his own right. He was responsible for training us interns so that we could gain hands-on practical experience in a fast-paced, high volume letterpress job-printing environment.

We worked fast at Hatch, almost too fast to capture on film.

At the time I started my internship, it was an unusual time of transition at Hatch. Several veterans of the Hatch empire had moved on to pursue other endeavors, and positions slowly became available. It was November when I found myself atop the 20ft rolling ladder putting away some of the larger type in the archive when I looked down to find the base of the ladder suddenly surrounded by the entire Hatch entourage. “We’ve given it some thought and want to know if you would be interested in working here.”

What do you say? “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll need to think about it.” NO. When offered your dream job, (especially when you’re precariously high off the ground) you say, “Seriously? Yes, absolutely!” Talk about climbing the ladder of success!

Our last staff photo before I left for Iowa in 2011. RIP, Huey the Hatch Cat.

That day started what would become over the next five years to be my most formative job experience to date. Had I not worked at Hatch, I doubt that I would have been introduced to bookbinding at all. I wouldn’t have discovered a desire to own my own business, and I certainly wouldn’t have applied to the UICB’s MFA program. It is now nine years after I started working at Hatch Show Print, and four years to the day since I received my acceptance letter for grad school. I am fortunate to count both of these institutions on my CV, and the next time I see a ladder, rest assured I’ll be on it, not under it. I’m no fool.

Everything must come from something.

Starting a business isn't supposed to be easy and I knew the challenges and obstacles that I would face as a self-employed, fledgling entrepreneur- or at least I knew of them, that they existed, and that they were many and formidable. Plugging along, I've come to find, is what I do best. My tendency to strive for perfection, to overanalyze, overthink, and do my best to avoid all error can be paralyzing and it's something that my MFA thesis committee at the University of Iowa Center for the Book did their very best to make me aware of and help me to begin to overcome during my final year of grad school. 

I know that I will make mistakes and that not all of my decisions will prove to be fruitful. I am an excellent counter. I love to number crunch material costs, cost per item, and production efficiency. Those things are calculable and fairly predictable. However, they are a safety blanket that can occasionally suffocate my productivity. Color combinations and material choices are something that I struggle with, at least I feel that I do, although some of my colleagues will probably disagree. Speculation as to how to price and market my books, and who may purchase them are another struggle. Technically you're only "self-employed" if you can generate enough revenue to support your needs and that of your enterprise, right?

My springback cutaway sampler, completed a few days before my show installation in early October.

Ultimately I am my harshest critic. This past month I have been simultaneously juggling new work for a gallery show, two separate production runs of springbacks, and preparing for my first bookbinding workshop in Two Rivers, Wisconsin at Hamilton's annual Wayzgoose conference. I must say the gallery show at Maryville College, my alma mater, looks amazing in pictures and has been well received. I look forward to seeing it in person later in the week at our closing reception. I am fully enjoying my production runs and while I am making many mistakes, they are accounted for and I am learning from them. You'd better believe I'm taking meticulous notes. And the workshop is an exciting beginning to the kind of bookbinding evangelism that I have been looking forward to since I began my MFA.

What I wasn't anticipating was the silence and the desire for distraction. The lack of patience and the self doubt. The questioning. The bird watching. The Woodwright's Shop. The Cheetos. And my bonsais.  

During my MFA interview I was told that most professional bookbinders work solo, that the majority of them were kindof quirky as a result. I can see now where the quirks could come into play. I talk more to my cats now than I do to people, at least on a daily basis. But to be fair after being away for three years we have a lot of catching up to do. I'm constantly talking to myself, my materials, and my tools- more often when they're not cooperating. And more than anything I am constantly under the impression that I should be farther along than I am, that I should already have commissions, a website, business cards, a logo, a well designed blog, a business plan, and income. And income.

As of yet I've done very little socializing and networking since I've been home, professional or personal. I am rediscovering Nashville again since it's grown so much while I've been away. I am getting used to my studio and making changes so that I can more easily work and store my materials and tools, and I am learning to work alone. It is a slow process of adjustment, one that I am fully committed to.

View fullsize

My humble workspace.

I'm not sure where the inspiration came from. I now have three bonsais, two of which I started from saplings no more than a few inches tall, and one from seed. Another two, a dogwood and a persimmon, have yet to sprout. They sit in my window and I get to watch them grow day by day. The hackberry I started from seed is growing like a weed. It germinated in about two weeks and in less than a month is nearly as tall as my other two, a white oak, and a red maple. Even so, I am surprised at how impatient I am with them all, frustrated at how slowly they grow, but how happy I am when I can actually notice changes.

My pitiful hackberry seedling.

So long as I continue to nourish them, they will grow. The same goes for my business, I suppose. A cheesy metaphor I know, but it's true. It has only been a little over 5 months since I graduated, 2 months since my move, and I am still making the transition in a post graduate world, one that is perhaps more challenging since my job will only exist if I make it so. Perhaps the greatest advantage is knowing that I get to call the shots, and I get to do what I love. And all of these adjustments, we'll call those growing pains.

I left a lot of people behind in Iowa that I dearly miss. Colleagues, friends, mentors, professors, my entire social, educational, and professional safety net. But I knew that before I moved. And I am here now, and so long as I grow, my safety net, my social circle, and my success here in my hometown will grow concurrently. I haven't lost my Iowa friends either, just their immediacy. And I am reconnecting with my family as well as my Nashville and East Tennessee friends.

The growth of my business, this blog, my success, and my bonsais- all of it is a slow process. One that requires time, investment, and what I am hoping my bonsais will contribute above all else, patience.