Invariably, whenever I taught an introduction to letterpress class, one person was interested in printing a chapbook of their poetry with entirely handset type. I suggest 1-2 lines to start with and that usually reigns in over-ambitious projects. 

Also luckily, some people preserve against my conservative advice. And I am always glad they do.

I can't remember exactly what Cameron's idea was when he came to me at Baskerville studios in New Orleans years ago. He wanted to learn to use his tabletop press to share poetry in some form. Now he is about to release the fifth volume of  a handbound poetry and art journal complete with a letterpress printed cover.  Each edition is beautiful, committed to handmade touches and quality content.  

A few months ago I contacted Cameron to offer my printing services, as my press is speedy and built to go. I thought I could offer to print the cover for them, maybe making one step easier for them. Why do we even bother with plans and expectations anymore? Of course every step involved some problem solving as my press was fussy about longer sheets of paper, full page images and some days, everything.  Additionally, I thought it would be easier to combine this cover design with the Keep Writing postcard for May.  That always seems like a good idea until I realize it means more factors in my design.  I am still recovering from a head injury from last summer so this kind of problem solving logistics is both great exercise and a literal headache.  

When I finally wrapped the 165 covers to ship to Cameron and the Tilted House group, I was relieved and excited. I never really committed to being a custom printer because I find it so stressful. But I love the results. I am so honored to be trusted with this project.

When we talked about content, themes of cups, a table, cooking, braided hair were all mentioned. Never a literal illustrator, I was reminded of something a friend once explained to me, the meaning of the portuguese word saudade. With no direct English translation, she offered the idea of cups overflowing with happiness and sadness, a longing for something gone. Not quite nostalgic. The Portuguese writer Manuel de Melo described it as

"a pleasure you suffer, an ailment you enjoy."

I don't often draw objects, but this stack of teacups was fun as I incorporated the bits the Tilted House crew offered, even learning to draw a hair braid to wrap around one cup. (side note: I've been trying lately to learn the things I've been avoiding.  Like, how to use shortcuts in Adobe Illustrator. And how to hem pants. I'm so extra appreciative of my brain lately.)

Collaborations through the mail in printing are always more cumbersome than I expect--shipping paper is expensive, I am a slow printer and an even slower designer. As I mentioned, literal illustration is not my strength. Restrictions often force creative solutions, like how to incorporate more color. I am honored to have done this. They are hand binding the copies now--order yours at tiltedhouse.org or, if you are in New Orleans, attend the release party June 10th.

bonus: here is a great article about the meaning of saudade.