Deep Play

I am just about sold out of "Deep Play: Notes on the Balinese Cockfight" by Clifford Geertz. The special copies are sold out, and there are just five copies left of the regular edition available, priced at $195.00 plus $15.00 for shipping. And here's a picture of the grandkids - it has nothing to do with books, but poppy is proud, so what the heck!

Deep Play, by Clifford Geertz - New Contre Coup Press Book

ANNOUNCEMENT A New Book from the Contre Coup Press Deep Play: Notes on the Balinese Cockfight By Clifford Geertz With Wood Engravings by Wesley Bates The Contre Coup Press is pleased to announce its new book, Deep Play: Notes on the Balinese Cockfight by Clifford Geertz. This is the first separate printing of this seminal essay in the field of Cultural Anthropology, an essay that is considered one of the most influential works of scholarship in the last fifty years In 1958, Clifford Geertz and his wife went to study the culture of a small village in Bali. Little did they know that they would become caught up in the fascinating phenomenon of cockfighting. Geertz would go on to write this essay, one of the best examples of his “thick description” approach to exploring cultural issues and behaviors. The essay recounts Geertz’s first experience with the Balinese cockfight, which ended in a mad chase by the police and a narrow escape, an event that opened up the previously unresponsive Balinese people to Geertz’s observations. In the essay, Geertz describes the cockfight itself, but he describes in much greater detail the rituals surrounding betting and the way in which the cockfight is used to reinforce power and status relationships amongst the Balinese people. This book reprints the original essay in its entirety, and also includes a collection of tributes to the author, who died in 2006. The book is 9 inches tall by 6 inches wide with 111 pages. The text was set in the Bembo typeface, and the book was printed on Frankfurt paper using a Vandercook SP20 proof press. The book is illustrated with wood engravings by Wesley Bates, the Canadian wood engraver whose engravings have graced the pages of some of the finest books printed in recent years. He is shown at the peak of his powers in these illustrations, filled with action and detail. There are four full-page illustrations, a magnificent double-page spread of two cocks fighting, a portrait of the author, and four vignettes, all printed directly from the blocks. Each copy of the book is signed by the artist. The book is bound using a special decorated paper designed especially for this book by Carol Blinn, the proprietor of the Warwick Press and a renowned paper decorator. This paper is a variation on a common Balinese textile design. The bindings were designed by Gregor R. Campbell and bound at the Campbell-Logan Bindery in Minneapolis. There are two editions of the book. The regular edition is limited to 24 numbered copies (the colophon states that there were 25, but only 24 copies were completed). It is bound with a cloth spine and Carol Blinn’s decorated paper over boards, and is enclosed in a slipcase. The special edition is limited to 8 roman-numeral numbered copies. The book is bound with Carol Blinn’s decorated paper over boards, with a morocco leather spine. Included with each copy of the special edition is a portfolio of the Wesley Bates wood engravings printed on Johannot paper. Also included with each copy of the special edition is one of the actual wood engraved blocks used in printing the illustrations for the book. The book, portfolio and block are housed in a custom clamshell box. Price for the regular copies is $195.00, plus $15.00 for shipping within the U.S. Price for the special copies is - Now Out of Print. Payment may be made via MasterCard, Visa, checks, money orders or PayPal (PayPal payment address is hawleybk@insightbb.com) Order from: Timothy Hawley Books P.O. Box 5277 Louisville, KY 40255-0277 502-451-3021 hawleybk@insightbb.com

The Bagel - An Early Contre Coup Press Book

Here's a very early effort, published when I was still using the Cerberus Press imprint. The pamphlet is entitled "A Brief Treatise on the History & Technique of the Bagel", written by Theophile Homard and published in University City, Missouri in 1981. This was the fifth publication of the Press, all of which had been small pamphlets bound in wrappers. This pamphlet is 8 inches tall by 4 inches wide with 8 pages. The book was set in the Kennerley typeface with display in Goudy Handtooled and printed on Basingwerk Parchment paper, sewn into Fabriano Ingres Heavy wrappers. The item was issued in an edition of 35 copies. I was heavily into breadmaking at the time I printed this one, and I had come up with a recipe for whole wheat bagels that was really great - I enjoyed the process of making bagels, boiling them before baking and all. So I thought that it might be fun to print my recipe and directions. And while I was at it, I could write up a little essay on how the bagel was originally developed. Unfortunately, my research didn't really turn up definitive information on the history of the bagel, so I asked the erstwhile Theophile Homard to make up a story of how the bagel was invented, and printed that. I don't know if people reading this little pamphlet actually believed the story, but who cares? I fiddled around with the ornaments that surround the opening title, and ended up turning the ornament on a 45-degree angle and creating a little cartouche. I was still in the process of teaching myself how to operate the press, so the presswork on this one leaves something to be desired.

Genealogy

N.B. Herewith is a little-known bit of printing history, recently discovered by us amongst some 15th-Century documents from the Court of Lichtenstein when we were doing some genealogical research on a forgotten ancestor. ----- “Oh great King Swopshire, we humbly prostrate ourselves before thee and beg thee to pour thy generous mercy upon our poor inestimable heads. We are unworthy of thy attention, and we pray that thou wilt spare us despite our unforgivable impudence in coming before you in this brazen way. Yet our hearts are heavy. Thou hast cast the poor printer, the decrepit old man Theophilus Hawley, into thy dungeons, where he even today sits amidst his own filth, dressed in rags, unwashed and unkempt, his hope as forlorn as that of a Chicago Cubs fan. And for what? Why dost thou turn thy magnificent hairy back upon this poor wretch, a man whose printing has enlightened both scholars and royalty, entertained the highly-born as well as the peasants, given solace to the heartbroken and inspiration to those who do daily toil in the service of thy great and thunderous desires. Forsooth! It is but a petty complaint that thou dost have against him. He meant no harm. He was but playing the fool, believing that thy famous sense of humor would recognize his jest for what it was, a mere effeminate sneeze in the whirlwind of thy astounding whoosh. Was it his fault that he knoweth not thy sensitivity to comments upon thy wondrous and most admirable derriere? Not that we would ever notice the amazing breadth of thy rump, nor the enormous extent of fine silk cloth necessary to encompass such an astounding expanse of arse, nor the mind-numbing sound emanating from thy nether regions when the capacity of thy bowels becomes o’er-stretched with noxious fumes. ‘Twas but a tiny cartoon that he printed in his little-read publication, not even noticed by most of his readership. Admittedly, he should probably have portrayed thy buttocks in a more modest manner. But naked buttocks are unmistakable, while thy clothed buttocks might have been mistaken for a pair of 500-pound bags of flour or sails on a great ship, billowing in the wind. Notwithstanding the offense that thy majesty has taken, we plead with thee to not have thy royal wolves rip him into bloody chunks, nor to break him on the wheel and drag his squashed corpus through the streets behind thy noble steeds. His printing press has been smashed, and his type tossed into the river – surely that is adequate punishment. Release him, oh great king, and thy subjects will celebrate thy kind and just forbearance. Long live King Swopshire!” ----- History has not recorded the final outcome of this sad event, but we do trace our family line directly to this poor doomed jokester and practitioner of the black art.

No Postings for a While

I haven't been doing much posting lately. This is mostly due to my work on my next book, which is quite ambitious. Hopefully I will get back to posting soon, as I still have quite a few interesting composing sticks to describe.

My Shop

I think that the first private press shop that I ever visited was Kay Kramer's in St. Louis. At that time, his shop was in a large room at the rear of the first floor of his home. It was spectacular! His gorgeous large Albion dominated the room, with his Vandercook SP15 nearby and a beautiful little pearl with a wooden base as well. He had his type in beautifully finished cabinets, with the cases all uniform oak-fronted. He had many of his books in the room, with a nice sitting area, beautiful prints and broadsides on the walls - it was to die for.

I later visited with Phil Metzger in his Crabgrass Press shop in a suburb of Kansas City. Again, although it was located in the basement, it was a truly beautiful shop, with (as I recall) a table-top Albion, a platen press of some description, many beautiful books and wall decorations. Phil showed me some truly awe-inspiring bindings that he had commissioned from Fritz Eberhard - incredible leather inlays of illustrations from Fritz Kredel - and I left feeling quite thunderstruck.

When I visited Leonard Bahr's Adagio Press in Detroit, I got a different feel, but I was equally impressed. Leonard's home was quite modest, and his shop was in the smallish basement. But it was so unbelievably meticulous that I just couldn't believe it (anyone who knew Leonard would agree that he was a remarkably meticulous person in everything that he did). Much of Leonard's library (that I purchased after his untimely death) was arrayed along one entire wall of the basement. His large C & P Craftsman press was in a tiny room in the rear of the basement, with a few type cabinets to keep it company. Leonard had a very fine collection of European foundry type, with Palatino being his "house face."

An astonishing place to visit was Carolyn Hammer's Anvil Press in Lexington, Kentucky. She used a tabletop iron handpress (I think that it was a Washington, but it might have been an Albion), and she worked in a small porch-like room at the back of the house. The shop was imbued with the aura of the craftsperson, and was almost like hallowed ground - of course, her home was like a museum, with many original works of art by Victor Hammer hanging on the walls (my wife nearly fainted when we walked into a bedroom and were confronted with Hammer's oil portrait of Thomas Merton - Carolyn casually talked about frequent lunches with Merton, as we sat with our jaws dropping to the floor. The original Merton portrait was actually destroyed in a fire, so this one was a later version).

I mention these various visits (and I have visited other beautiful shops over the years as well, and some not so inspiring) as a way of contrasting them with my own shabby shop, which is pictured above.

I do my composing in the basement, in a crowded room that shares space with pieces of corrugated board that I use in packing book orders, shelves with over 50 cartons of periodicals that I will probably never sell, and miscellaneous junk. One of the pictures shows a few of the blank cases opened to show how I store my collection of composing sticks.

As long as I was taking pictures, I decided to also show a couple of the rooms upstairs where I keep my book inventory. My wife and I actually own a duplex, with two apartments (one up and one down). We basically live in the first floor apartment, and I have filled most of the second floor apartment with books (although Ellen has a meditation room upstairs where she practices and studies Buddhism). My office is also on the second floor.

Fortunately, the basement is almost at ground level, so it stays very dry, and I store much stuff down there - it's a wonderful full basement with high ceilings, so I have lots of room for lots of stuff. I have a framing shop down there where I frame fine prints that I sell at a local antique mall.

Finally, the press is out in the garage, and you can see that it is not a place of beauty. People familiar with Vandercook presses will notice that my press has extensions on the legs that raise the press about 6 or 8 inches higher than most presses sit - I guess that this was an option that the original owner wanted. It does help keep me from having to lean over to operate the press, which is pretty nice, actually. In the wintertime I put the press in mothballs, moving everything from the other side of the garage so that my wife can park her car in there - it's too cold to do any printing during the winter, unfortunately, which is why I hope to one day move to a house with a walk-out basement that I can put the press into. The press weighs about 2,000 pounds, so bringing it into the house and down the stairs to the basement is out of the question. The temperature extremes in the garage mean that I have to keep the rollers in the house, and bring them out to the garage every time I want to do some printing. I also have to schlep the type forms and various other stuff back and forth between the house and the garage (which is probably 40 or so feet behind the house) every time I go to print - it's a pain in the ass, to be blunt about it.

Anyway, that's it. I work in this crummy space, but I still love it! I have CD-players around to listen to music (I have about 4,000 music CDs, which is crazy, but true), and there's nothing quite like putting on some nice music, getting an adult beverage, and distributing type! Heaven!

Schizophrenomania, by Matt Jasper

Here's one of my favorite Contre Coup Press books. As I've mentioned previously, I think, my main purpose in printing is to make books that people will enjoy reading, and here is a book that I think is a really great read!

The book came about because I was visiting in St. Louis one day in 1997, and I was browsing in Streetside Records, a large store on Delmar Blvd. that I had frequented when I lived in St. Louis, only a few blocks away. I was looking at fanzines, and picked one up that had this essay printed in it. The essay really blew me away, so I bought it, and when I got home to Louisville, I contacted the author for permission to reprint it (yes, I know, it's very unlike me to actually ask permission, but I did so in this case). Not only did he give me permission to reprint the essay, but he also sent along some poems that were very relevant, and so I interspersed several of them throughout the book, set in a slightly larger typeface (14 pt., while the text was set in 12 pt.)

The book is 8-1/4 inches tall by 5 inches wide and has 31 pages. I set the text in Cochin and printed the book on Basingwerk Parchment paper (God! I wish they still made this paper - it was one of my favorites!). I used no decoration whatsoever in this book, wanting the words to totally speak for themselves. I printed a total of 16 copies on the Vandercook SP20.

The book was bound, as usual, at the Campbell-Logan Bindery. I asked Carol Blinn to pick out a selection of her paste papers to use for the bindings, and she sent along an interesting variety - the books are bound in several different designs of paste paper; I can't remember how many different ones there were, but perhaps six or eight different designs.