TO THE LETTER
The writer Elizabeth Day on the enduring appeal of the printing press
The writer
Elizabeth Day on the peculiar charm of bespoke printing and typography
I’ve always been a font geek. As a novelist, I guess it comes with the trade. I write every book in a different font on my computer screen, according to the particular atmosphere of the plot. My debut had a dark storyline and so I opted for the uncomplicated straightforwardness of 11-point Arial to guard against melodrama. My latest, Paradise City, was typed out in Book Antiqua, its discreet serifs reflecting the intricate, connected nature of the plot.
Conversely, I have a visceral, illogical hatred of other typefaces. To my mind, Courier New is pretentious. Verdana tries too hard. The ones that look like handwriting bring me out in a rash. When I write pieces of journalism, I always think it’s rather sad that modern technology means they will no longer be laid out by hand on a movable-type printing press, with expert compositors onhand to set the headline size.
Fortunately, there is still a place I can go to satisfy my desire for old-fashioned craftsmanship. Harrington & Squires, a bespoke letter-press workshop in Tufnell Park, is a magical treasure-trove for the font enthusiast. It is housed in a building called ‘The Corridor’: three-storeys high and measuring barely 1.2 metres across. The walls are lined with handcrafted greetings cards and examples of customised wedding invitations. To one side, there are polished drawers of typeset letters in shades of worn pewter and dusty grey. A narrow wooden staircase leads up to the office where the two proprietors – Vicky Fullick and Chrissie Charlton – produce everything, as well as running workshops for the interested amateur.
The duo met while working as graphic designers. Then one day, when Fullick was house-hunting, she stumbled across an old Adana 8 x 5 printing press during a viewing. ‘The owner said she was hoping to get rid of the press and all the paraphernalia before moving, so I offered her a hundred quid and took it away,’ she says.
Once they got the hang of the press, the women took a stand at the London Artists’ Book Fair to sell books and cards, and started taking commissions. Their popularity grew by word of mouth. ‘Soon, we were enjoying the process of letterpress far more than design in front of the computer,’ Charlton says.
Both revel in the traditional craftsmanship of their work. ‘We think it is important to remember the old technologies,’ says Charlton. ‘There are certain things you simply cannot do with computer design when it comes to the tangible feel of letterpress printing… But we are not Luddites.’
On the contrary: in many respects, they are actually pioneers. Printing has always been a male-dominated industry; female-run letterpresses, such as this one, are rare. It’s partly why the women chose to name the shop in honour of two of Charlton’s former tutors at Hornsey College of Art: Bob Harrington and Horace Squires both worked as Fleet Street compositors.
Their favourite font is ‘Gill Sans, for its versatility and longevity’, says Fullick. ‘It was designed by Eric Gill in 1928 and it still looks modern but dependable.’ And the best thing about running a letterpress? ‘Being completely autonomous. We also love the smell,’ Charlton says. ‘The white spirit and oily inks contribute to the workshop’s atmosphere. You don’t get that with computers.’ For more information, visit www.harringtonandsquires.co.uk.