Paper crafted in an ancient mill
From rags to reams of textured paper, Jim Patterson creates the perfect canvas for watercolour artists, all crafted by hand
Tucked away in a narrow valley on the edge of Exmoor is an ancient stone watermill. It has stood in this place for 400 years, surrounded by fields and woodland which, in April, begin to come to life. The plants and trees don their fresh spring robes of green and the air is alive with birdsong. Ivy and other climbing plants creep silently along the walls of the old mill. But this is no unloved ruin of a building. Restoration is evident in the roof, with its new slates and skylight windows. The mill stream burbles alongside, and rows of flowerpots flank the adjoining whitewashed mill cottage, with its pretty blue-painted window frames and solar-panelled roof. Although for most of its history it was a flour mill, today Pitt Mill is owned by Jim Patterson, who makes artists’ paper on site. “We make traditional English watercolour paper by hand and are the only people doing this in the UK,” he says proudly. A fourth generation papermaker, Jim has been making paper all his professional life. After leaving school at 16, he began work in a small mill and trained in paper science and technology. He bought Pitt Mill in 1986, after the paper firm he was managing in Hemel Hempstead, Hertfordshire, closed. He had worked in Somerset as a young man and had enjoyed being in the area, so was keen to move back. Equally importantly, he wanted to be involved in the entire papermaking process and realised that the best way to do it was to set up on his own. “I couldn’t imagine being confined to just one area of the operation, and I knew that the only way to be independent when making paper was to make it by hand,” he explains.
He spent two years restoring the building and obtained much of the papermaking equipment he needed from a firm in Manchester called Two Rivers Paper, which was closing down. He decided to continue trading under that name and began producing his own paper in 1988. Inside, the mill is divided into three floors. The cave-like ground floor, or vat room, with its wet floor and thick stone walls flecked with a snowfall of paper pulp, is where the paper is made; the second floor houses the tiny office and shelves of neatly stacked paper; and the warm, sunny attic-like space on the top floor is the drying room. Here, gently swaying sheets of paper are suspended from racks running along the ceiling, arranged to catch the breeze from the open windows. Along one side of the room is a bench-like wooden desk, where the finished papers are packed, and above this is a noticeboard covered with cards from grateful artists who have enjoyed using the papers. Although Jim is involved in all aspects of the business, he has a small team working alongside him. Neil Hopkins has been at Two Rivers for 20 years and was recently joined by Zoe Collis, a full-time apprentice papermaker, part-funded by a bursary from the Queen Elizabeth Scholarship Trust. Her position at the mill underlines Jim’s commitment to maintaining the age-old skills involved in handmaking paper and encouraging a new generation of makers. “It’s a way of putting something back,” he says. The final member of the team is Sarah Ward, who works part-time, on marketing and the processing of orders.
Paper from rags
The type of paper produced at Two Rivers is known as rag paper. This is made from a combination of cotton, linen and sometimes hemp, rather than wood pulp. Rag papers are much longer lasting, as the fibres are longer and therefore stronger, and purer than those in paper made with wood pulp, so do not break down as quickly. “As long as they are not consumed by fire or flood, these papers should last for more than 2,000 years,” says Neil. The papermaking process begins with the rags. At Two Rivers, the paper is made using 95 per cent cotton and five per cent linen. The linen gives the paper extra strength and a tougher surface. The cotton comes in large fluffy sheets, called linter, which are put into a mixer, or hydrapulper, with water from the mill’s own well and is gradually beaten into a thick, soup-like solution. Chalk is added at this stage: being an alkaline, it eliminates the acidity in the finished paper, which would cause it to degrade over time. The mixture is then piped into a beater, and the linen rags, offcuts from a garment factory, are added by hand. When Jim first started making paper at the mill, he used a Victorian rag breaker, driven by the water wheel, to do this, but today he uses an electric machine, powered from solar panels on the roof of the adjoining cottage. There are plans to get the wheel running again in the future, however. The beater breaks up the fibres to the consistency required for each different type of paper, with the time the mixture is kept in the beater varying according to the type and weight of the finished paper. The lighter the paper, the more diluted the pulp. Jim’s most popular paper is the heavier watercolour paper, weighing 2oz per sq ft (630g per sq m), but the company also produces paper in 1.34 and 1oz per sq ft (410 and 300gsm) weights. The mixture then feeds into the pulp chest. Here, the required amounts can be filtered off to ensure the correct ratio of pulp and water are mixed depending on the final weights of the sheets required.
“For through the painter must you see his skill To find where your true image pictured lies” William Shakespeare, ‘Sonnet 24: Mine Eye Hath Played the Painter and Hath Stelled’
Wet-strength resin is added to the pulp, making the sheet unlikely to fall apart when wet. This is important with watercolours, when the artist uses washes to build the image. When the correct consistency is reached, the pulp is passed into the making vat, measuring approximately 3ft by 5ft (1.5 x 1m). Neil gives it a good stir with a wooden paddle before dipping the mould and deckle into the porridge-like solution. The deckle is a wooden frame that fits exactly on top of the mould and holds the pulp in place to form the edge of the paper. The edges of the mould are made from mahogany, and the base covered with a fine wire mesh of phosphor bronze, which does not corrode in water. Neil has several different moulds to use depending on the size of paper he is making: the largest measure 22in by 30in (56 x 76cm). Holding the mould and deckle together, Neil expertly scoops out a thin layer of pulp. He gently tips them backwards and forwards to allow the excess water to drip out through the mesh, before removing the deckle and turning out the sheet of pulp onto a felt. A felt is a large piece of board, measuring approximately 3ft by 2½ft (1m x 80cm) onto which a wool blanket has been glued. The random organic surface of the felt gives the drying paper its unique texture.
The process of turning the moulds out onto the felts is called couching. The wet sheets are sandwiched between the felts, and gradually, a stack, or post, of papers is built up. A batch of 1¾st (11kg) of pulp will make between 40 and 200 pieces of paper, depending on the size and weight. The pile is placed in a press for approximately half an hour to squeeze out more water.
Drying and sizing
After this time, the sheets are firm enough to handle and are taken up to the drying room and put into a dryer. The dryer at Two Rivers was designed by Sarah in 1998 as part of her A-level engineering project and consists of a stack of corrugated cardboard panels and wooden boards held in place by a wooden frame. The damp paper, sandwiched between cotton sheets, is placed under the boards, and hot air is blown through the spaces in the cardboard to dry off the last of the moisture. The thicker the paper, the longer the drying time, and the process can take up to 24 hours for the thickest papers. When they are completely dry, they are taken out of the dryer, and Neil picks out any surface imperfections with a Stanley knife. The next stage in the production is the sizing, in which a solution is applied to the paper, affecting its resistance to water and ink. Without it, the paper would be so absorbent that it would be impossible to use. “It’s rather like kitchen paper,” explains Neil. At Two Rivers, the paper is hard sized using a ‘rabbit skin’, or hide glue, which gives it a very particular surface quality. “It takes the paint really well: it doesn’t sink into the sheet to the same extent it would on a machine-made paper, so it dries brighter and fresher,” says Neil. Another advantage is that the process also makes paint easier to remove and the papers very forgiving to use. Mistakes can be reworked, and details can be lifted off if required as part of the technique, such as when creating clouds after the sky has been painted. The quality of the sizing is one of the main differences between Jim’s handmade papers and machine-made papers. “The thing about making paper by hand is that you can increase the sizing without slowing down production,” he says. He explains that while Two Rivers’ papers are not necessarily better than machine-made paper, they are different in that they provide something which the machine-made alternatives cannot. Their quality is suited to their particular purpose.
The paper is sized downstairs by being individually dipped into a tank of glue. Then it is taken back up to the drying loft and hung from the roof to dry before finally being ready to send out to the customers. “The paper takes 30 seconds to make, but two days to process,” says Neil.
Colour and texture
Most of the papers produced at Two Rivers are a natural oatmeal or cream. However, the company do produce some coloured papers. These are made by adding coloured rags to the pulp. Neil’s favourite is the soft blue DeNimes paper, made from adding five per cent blue jean rag to the pulp. “It has a lovely feel, and I really like the fact that you can craft something like this out of a pair of old jeans,” he says. Darker blue papers are made by adding dark blue linen rags. Other unexpected ingredients that can be added to the pulp include seeds, flower petals and hemp, all of which add extra texture to the surface. Recently, a bookbinder commissioned a paper made with seaweed, and the result was gently flecked with the golds and deep browns of the kelp Neil collected from nearby Porlock. “People commission all sorts of special papers from us. We even did one with ribbons in it for a wedding,” says Jim. He prefers making the plainer papers, however. Jim sees himself as a craftsman, rather than an artist, creating something which others will work on. “It’s a bit like ploughing: it’s the least glamorous end of the operation, but if the ground is prepared well, then people can produce what they want on it.” He cites the example of wildlife artist Derek Robertson, who uses Two Rivers paper: “He does the most amazing things on our paper, and when I see his work, I think ‘that’s what we get up in the morning for.’”