For the love of Letraset

Pondering this Letraset love thing I have going on and I am not completely sure I’ve got it nailed down. What I have got however, is a lot of little ideas, connections or hints at why I am enjoying the process as much as I am. 

 Part of the attraction is a sense of familiarity. Letraset was something I played with as a young person/child, and yet more importantly for me I think, is that it lies somewhere between the hand setting of traditional type; and the typewriter. There is intimacy in the manual nature of it. 

 I am loving that it is old, quite rare and previously used (pre-loved some might say). Just like an old typewriter; just like our traditional letterpress. Part of the joy is knowing that others have held these things and used their hands to make magic with them. 

 Or simply type a letter, make a sign or print a newspaper… 

 The way in which the old Letraset sheets are like cultural artefacts. They bear the biro marks of enthusiastic youngsters rubbing off their letters. 

 Part of the deep affection is that working with vintage Letraset, I am once again forced to work within its limitations. Just as we are oftentimes limited to what we can say or print with our traditional letterpress because there just aren’t enough of, for example, an ‘o’; I am also limited to how many letters of a certain kind have been left on the sheet. If I am doing calligraphy I can create as many ‘o’s as I want; when using a computer the well of letters never runs dry. 

From lower case q to o

 In conjunction with not enough letters, I have to contend with the poor transfer of a letter; I have to see if I can add a bit; I have to modify a $ and make a capital S out of it; I have to sacrifice another letter to fill in a part that didn’t transfer and so on, and this problem solving is something that I really enjoy. Always pondering “Can I make this work?”. 

The arch of the r was lost; then replaced.

From $ to S

 Like calligraphy with ink and nib; I have to commit. No time for sketching, edging my way into something and no rubbing things out. I just have to decide and go. Put it down and rub the letter off. Once I am committed that is pretty much it. The spontaneity of it is followed by almost immediate reward. It can be fast! 

 I adore both the crispness of letters that transfer perfectly and the fractured disrepair of those that don’t. I also love the accidental appearance of random elements like guidelines or serifs from the letter below or behind the letter I am transferring when my rubbing gets a bit enthusiastic. The gift of the unexpected. 

 The playful exploratory part brings delight too. The ease of changing the direction of a letter; just turn the sheet to the right position and transfer. The placement of the ligatures and connections between letters – just place the sheet down exactly where you want it, or go for a random point or juncture. 

 There is an element of instinct and intuition to it which also appeals. Each letter goes down with part reference to what has gone before; but this positioning is sometimes obscured by other yet-to-be -transferred letters – so much depends on the eye. Placement can be a bit by chance, and whilst I might choose, the Letraset letters determine what happens. There is a constant twinning of ease and difficulty; of control and letting go. 

 When layering letters onto previous letters; sometimes the first letters down lose parts of themselves as I apply the letter on top – this dance of happenstance and hazard is part of the attraction I am sure. 

 So, in summary, I think it’s because it is old; that it is tricky and a little bit fickle; that it forces me work within limitations and problem solve every step of the way; and that it is such a combination of ease and difficulty; planning and serendipity; control and letting go. And I also think it is the haptic nature of it all; as ever, the joy of making words with my hands.