Through the 1970s and '80s Rummonds and his imprint Plain Wrapper Press (and its short-lived American sibling, Ex Ophidia) established a reputation for beautifully conceived and produced limited editions, all printed on handpresses. He retired from publishing in 1988, turning his attention in the years since to screenwriting while also distilling his expertise into Printing with the Iron Handpress (1998), a hefty manual that immediately became the primary reference for both would-be and experienced printers everywhere. That project led Rummonds to continue his research into historical printing practices, culminating with the publication of his two-volume Nineteenth-Century Printing Practices and the Iron Handpress (Oak Knoll Books 2004, US$150). But if this exhaustive study’s 1,000-plus pages wasn’t enough for bibliophiles and Rummonds’ collectors, its publication coincided with his first limited edition press book in over 15 years; titled On Being a California Poet (edition of 80 copies, US$385), the book features an essay and two poems by Dana Gioia, whose work was featured in the second of Rummonds’ two Ex Ophidia books, Journeys in Sunlight (1986). The book was printed the previous April at the Bridwell Library on its Ashendene Albion press, by Rummonds and a small team of assistants (see comments from one of them below Rummonds’ interview).

Though Rummonds says the new Gioia book may be his last printed on a handpress, he remains a tireless and generous mentor for all who have questions about the craft. (His guidance and expertise have been available to HM on more than one occasion.) During the summer of 2004, he kindly agreed to take time away from his screenwriting and other activities, to answer some questions about his two new books…

Heavenly Monkey: You mention in the on-line prospectus for On Being a California Poet that it was initiated by a broadside you printed a few years ago to celebrate the Bridwell Library’s fiftieth anniversary. Did the Bridwell come to you with the idea of publishing a new book, or did printing the broadside rekindle your interest?

Gabriel Rummonds: I have had a very warm and rewarding relationship with the Bridwell Library at Southern Methodist University since the early 1970s when Decherd Turner, the first director of the library, placed a standing order for Plain Wrapper Press books, which was still in effect when I closed the press in 1988. The Bridwell has a near-complete collection of my work. A curious aside is that Decherd, who later became the director of the Humanities Research Center at the University of Texas, purchased one of only three complete collections of Plain Wrapper Press and Ex Ophidia books in existence. The other two are at the University of Georgia and the University of Oregon.

Decherd had been one of my early mentors, always encouraging me to follow my own vision. His enthusiasm for my work was evident in the foreword that he wrote for Plain Wrapper Press, 1966–1988, an illustrated bibliography of my work edited by Elaine Smyth and published by W. Thomas Taylor, Austin, 1993. In 1996, he wrote another foreword for A Sampler of Leaves from Plain Wrapper Press and Ex Ophidia Books , printed by Bradley Hutchinson and bound by Craig Jensen.

After Decherd’s departure from the Bridwell, I continued to keep in touch with his successors. It may have been at Decherd’s suggestion that Valerie R. Hotchkiss, the present director, invited me to print a broadside, celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of the library, on the Bridwell’s Ashendene Albion press. Several other people were involved in the project: Fred Voltmer and Bradley Hutchinson checked out the mechanical operation of the press; Page Thomas, director of Methodist Studies, made sure that all the necessary supplies were on hand for my arrival; and Decherd arranged for Patricio Gatti, who has a private press in Buenos Aires, to come up to help with the printing. The type was set by Michael and Winifred Bixler, and the illustration and calligraphy were by John Balkwill and Anita Karl respectively. Fred, Brad and Patricio did most of the actual inking and pulling of the broadside. Barbara Voltmer finished blow-drying the still damp printed sheets and trimming them minutes before they were distributed at a special luncheon to commemorate the occasion.

Decherd had given me an open invitation to come to Dallas to print on the Bridwell’s Ashendene Albion press. While printing the broadside, Valerie and I again discussed this possibility, which resulted in her offering me a Bridwell Visiting Artist Fellowship for the month of April, 2003. I had assumed that Valerie would want me to print a book for the Bridwell, using a text of their choice. However, as it turned out, the fellowship was designed to provide me with an opportunity to print and publish a limited edition for my own account.

HM: Is this a Plain Wrapper Press book? What’s the imprint? Is it actually available now, or still in the bindery?

GR: Even though On Being a California Poet was published without an imprint, for all practical purposes it is a Plain Wrapper Press book. The same care and attention that went into the earlier titles are evident in this book. Incidentally, if any collectors are interested in it, I still have a few of copies left.

HM: You had a small team of people helping with the production, including Patricio Gatti, from Buenos Aires. How hands-on was your part? Were you directing & overseeing the work, or were you inking & pulling?

GR: In addition to planning the project, I also took an active part in producing it. I have always preferred working “full press” – an early printing term describing a team of two pressmen who worked at a handpress: one inking the form and the other handling the paper and pulling the bar. At my press in Verona, the puller also inked the form and the second person handled the paper.

The first thing Patricio, who again came up from Buenos Aires, and I did was to fine-tune the press, balancing the platen and making minor adjustments to the pressure mechanism. Then using the dummy of the book that I had already prepared, I arranged the skeleton in the bed of the press and positioned the points on the tympan. Together we imposed the form in twos. The book was printed in what I refer to in Printing on the Iron Handpress as a vertical folio, that is, with the points positioned vertically instead of horizontally – the latter being the traditional position for them. With this method, the heads of the pages face the fixed (hinged) end of the press; this way, the pages are always in perfect register. The next steps were to rebalance the platen for the specific form, make register, and make ready. Once we were satisfied with the blind impression, I adjusted the roller bearers to raise the roller off the type in specific areas to prevent over-inking and squeeze. Every other day, we also had to dampen the paper for the next set of sheets, leaving it overnight in the standing press and then a second night in a plastic bag without any pressure on top of it so the paper could expand.

For the most part, during the remaining three weeks after Patricio left, I worked alone, inking, handling the paper, and pulling, with occasional help from John McQuillen, a graduate student who came in a couple of hours three days a week. When he was there, he handled the paper.

HM: After so long away from a press, how did it feel to be back at what you’d done for so long? What had you forgotten, what had you missed, and what hadn’t you missed?

GR: Fortunately, when I printed the broadside, I had an opportunity to see if I still had the necessary skills and inclination to print again. As you know, I am now seventy-three years old and was afraid I might not have the stamina to tackle a book project again. In spite of my initial fears, I was not prepared for the grueling hours – often ten hours a day – and being on my feet most of that time. In Verona, Alessandro Zanella and I printed at a much more leisurely pace. In Dallas, I was under a lot of pressure. In addition, the Albion is located in a small windowless room illuminated by florescent lighting, which is all right for demonstrations, but not really conducive for long runs. It also had inadequate ventilation for the amounts of solvents that we were using.

I can’t say that I forgot much about the technical aspect of printing, although I did have to occasionally refer to my book. For the most part, once we got started, everything fell into place. I soon realized that I had missed the pleasure and gratification of inking and pulling a beautiful page, but I didn’t miss the constant pressure, both artistically and financially, that had plagued almost every book I printed when my presses were still active.

In Dallas, my chief concern was my eye sight. It is not as sharp as it was in 1974 when I was printing the Borges/Pomodoro book [Seven Saxon Poems ; see image at right]. After Patricio left, I began to suffer terrible anxiety attacks, afraid that I would not be able to finish the book in the time allotted, and in fact, I finished it with just enough time to clean up the pressroom before I left. I returned to Seattle with a severe throat virus and was confined to bed for a week. I think much of my physical deterioration could be attributed to just plain old-fashioned exhaustion. The Bridwell had gone out of its way to make my visit enjoyable and tension free.

There is some talk that I will be offered an Artist-in-Residence position at an eastern college in the fall of 2005. If this appointment does indeed materialize, I will be able to print a number of small books in a leisurely fashion and to explore various illustration techniques, a segment of the printing process that I have always enjoyed. In this environment, I believe I could again find genuine pleasure in printing. It would also give me an opportunity to share my experience in printing on the iron handpress with some of the students.

HM: When the Bridwell opportunity developed, how did you to decide on the actual book you wanted to publish?

GR: Once Valerie told me that the project did not have to be Bridwell related, I gathered together a team of close friends, most of whom I had worked with in the past. First, I wrote to Dana Gioia , whose work I had published in the 1980s. John Balkwill , a former student of mine at the University of Alabama, supplied the illustration. Michael and Winifred Bixler set the text in Dante, a typeface they had used for a number of my earlier projects. Lucio Passerini, an Italian printer and woodcut artist, made the patterned papers that Bradley Hutchinson printed and Craig Jensen used when binding the book.

When I left Alabama in 1988, I was very bitter. I felt that I had been betrayed by a faculty that knew very little about the goals I had established for the program, and I came under personal attack from them. Printing became an anathema to me. I wanted nothing more to do with it, so I took early retirement and went to Los Angeles to pursue a new career in screenwriting. The Bridwell broadside was directly responsible for reviving my interest in the craft.

HM: This spring is momentous for you, because not only do we get your first press book in 15 years, but your two-volume magnum opus Nineteenth-Century Printing Practices and the Iron Handpress will be published this coming July. Your last book, Printing on the Iron Handpress , was primarily technical in focus. How does this new book compare?

GR: The focus in both is technical. Printing on the Iron Handpress describes how I printed on nineteenth-century iron handpresses. Those who are familiar with that book know that I advocate many non-traditional materials and procedures. Nineteenth-Century Printing Practices and the Iron Handpress , which is twice as long as the first, dwells on the printing practices found in the majority of nineteenth-century commercial printing offices. There is a short chapter on “fine printing,” which at that time meant printing wood engravings well. My editor, Stephen O. Saxe, has referred to this new book as a “modern” nineteenth-century printers’ manual. I hope it will become a useful reference work, especially for museums and libraries that want to recreate nineteenth-century print shops. One of the things I am most proud of in this book is the annotated bibliography of over 250 pre-twentieth-century printers’ manuals.

Originally, it was to be an appendix on historical practices in Printing on the Iron Handpress . However, it soon became apparent that the material had a life of its own that demanded more space. Using printed and online catalogs, I was able to locate most of the items listed in the bibliography. I was very lucky to have the help of a small band of librarians and individuals who reviewed and verified their holdings by personally examining the book in question. Title pages, contents, and indexes of questionable items were photocopied – in some cases the whole book – so I could compare them to holdings in other libraries. By doing so, it was discovered that a few items had been lost or miscataloged.

HM: Tell me a bit about the research & work that went into this book.

GR: When I first took up the iron handpress, with the exception of Simon & Carter’s Printing Explained and Allen’s Printing with the Handpress , there were no twentieth-century manuals devoted exclusively to working at this type of press. Like many other aspiring handpress printers, I read the sections on practical printing in nineteenth-century printers’ manuals only to discover that they had very little to offer in the way of fine printing. Someone once said that any pressman who had worked for William Morris would not last long in a commercial printing office where between 156 and 166 impression per hour were normal, although Jacobi says it was 250. Morris’s pressmen averaged thirty; and at the Plain Wrapper Press, we averaged twenty.

I started collecting material on nineteenth-century printing practices in 1969. I was especially interested in book production, and fortunately most of the early manuals were concerned with this aspect of the printing industry. Of course, there was rampant plagiarism from one manual to the next; however, despite this tendency, it is amazing how many of them actually expressed innovating ideas. It is hard to believe that there was much room for change since the basic practices were centuries old. If you want the pages in a book to be in their proper sequence, there is only way to impose them. That is still true today. Printing on the handpress has always involved pulling a bar that lowers the platen that makes the impression. Only the pressure-inducing mechanisms changed from one press to another. The first real changes in the printing industry were brought about by papermaking machines, cylinder presses, and typesetting machines.

HM: What role do you see for the iron handpress in the 21st century? I hear of more & more presses going into static public and private displays, often at prices that put them well out of reach of young artists or would-be printers. On the other hand, in recent years we’ve seen Steve Pratt manufacture some reproduction handpresses that I’ve been told are very good. Is the handpress going to become an increasingly uncommon anachronism in the world of press books and printmaking, or does the unique nature of what it can do mean it will be around for as long as there is relief printing?

GR: I hope that there will be an increase in the number of printers who will want to print on handpresses. We hear more about them today than we did before the advent of the Web. There are several Web sites, including my own that disseminate information about handpresses and related subjects. I get an average of three or four queries a week from readers. I also believe that Printing on the Iron Handpress has given many printers – who may have been intimidated by iron handpresses – the confidence to try them. I have seen several first books from printers whose concepts and craft skills are very highly developed. There is also a large number of artists who use the handpress to edition their prints. There will always be the traditionalists who will insist on metal type and handmade paper; however, the availability of digital typesetting, polymer plates, and excellent moldmade papers has made it possible, and affordable, for many more printers to use the handpress.

HM: Other than the books mentioned here, you’ve focused on screenwriting since closing Plain Wrapper Press and Ex Ophidia. Can you tell us a bit about anything that’s been sold, or what you’re currently working on? What’s more frustrating – printing on a handpress or dealing with producers?

GR: My writing partner, Robert Randall who lives in Vancouver, BC, and I have written nine scripts. We have an agent who actively sends out our material – he also deals with producers – but so far we have had only one option. I enjoy screenwriting, and Rob and I work well together: his background is acting, and mine was at one time scenic and costume design as well as some directing. The nice thing about a script is that it has strict limitations. Producers do not want to see spec scripts that are more than 120 pages. In the movie business, using standard script formats, each page represents one minute on the screen. I like the challenges that this limitation places on the script. If I never get to see one of ours made into a film, I will naturally be disappointed. Either way, I will still have the satisfaction of knowing that we have created a well-crafted piece of work.

A final note: Patricio Gatti, mentioned above as one of the team who assisted Rummonds at the Bridwell Library, has been a fraternal correspondent of HM’s since we got our handpresss in 2000. We asked him what it was like to work with Rummonds:

“Printing with Gabriel has always been an intensely-lived experience for me. That Gabriel began his printing career in Argentina is a most auspicious sign for me. Plus, among his memorable books one can find the authors Borges and "Manucho" Mujica Lainez, a fact that strengthens my bond with his work.

“Gabriel is always generous in the presswork, a modest, candid teacher willing to share his knowledge and experience. This inviting disposition encourages his occasional collaborators to participate and get involved. Under the shy, cultivated and measured exterior there is a tireless worker. The work sessions on the Gioia book were fulfilling and exhausting. Fortunately Gabriel is as good a cook as a printer, so the days finished pleasurably at table.

“I feel privileged to have been part of the project. I had to leave for my country before the book was completed, and although I knew what to expect from Gabriel’s work, I was still astonished by the pristine results. When I saw it at last, everything had come together as if by magic, into a numinous book."

For more information about Rummonds’ books, or printing with a handpress, see his Web site .

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Gabriel Rummonds
Photo Guido Trevisani

On Being a California Poet, by Dana Gioia, frontispiece taken from a wood engraving by John Balkwill.

Plain Wrapper Press books (from Plain Wrapper Press, 1966-1988)

Craig Jensen's binding for On Being a California Poet.

Seven Saxon Poems by Jorge Luis Borges (Plain Wrapper Press, 1974)

Rummonds inspecting the Bridwell Library broadside that led to him being offered a Visiting Artist Fellowship in April 2003, during which he printed On Being a California Poet

Patricio Gatti working at his A. Hogenforst Ideal press in Buenos Aires