The following interview is from an Australian magazine that focused on lost crafts called "Men at Work".
You're based in Byron now. Have you always lived there?
I grew up around Bondi in Sydney, but Byron Bay has been my home since '89. After finishing my printing trade, I traveled a bit, lived in WA and VIC, then came back to study Media Communications at Lismore. Met my wife there, we moved to Bondi, started a family, and by 2009, The Artisan Press was humming along nicely. Now we're here to stay.
For a small town, Byron is so full of successful business people and artists. Why do you think that is?
People always ask about Byron's creative scene. There's something special about this place - it's the environment, I reckon. Surrounded by ocean and hills instead of concrete, there's this nice sense of freedom. From surfboard shapers to IT gurus, painters to potters, we've got it all. It's like an art farm - where else would you find a barber shop with an amazing art gallery out the back?
Your style of printing seems like the kind of art that would be passed down across generations, was that the case? If not, how did you get into it?
Printing's in my blood, sort of. My grandfather was into printing diaries and stationery back in the late 60s. As a kid, I'd screen print my own boardies and shirts just for fun. Never thought it'd become my life's work. But then I was lucky enough to get into Uni of NSW City Art Institute, and something just clicked in that old print workshop down in the Rocks. The smell of ink, paper and oil. Unfortunately, I got kicked out of art school for spending all my time in the print workshop instead of lectures about Post Modernism. It wasn't a hard choice!
I then landed an apprenticeship at Z.Nosek & Co in Waterloo, working with two incredible Dutch (Ben Ponne) and English (Terry McGee) master printers. I learnt how to print by printing record covers for Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix and the Ramones for bigger labels and a whole lot of stuff for indie labels of the time like RedEye/Black Eye, Phantom, Waterfront, and Aberrant. I used to get a real kick out of seeing a band like Died Pretty or Feedtime at the old Sydney Trade Union club on the weekend then be printing their 7" single cover on the Monday.
When did you start Artisan Press?
In 1999, I was working as a graphic designer for an agency and was done with glossy Photoshop images and everything looking so slick. I had a hunch there were others who felt the same way. So I took a leap, left my job, and set up a small letterpress workshop in Lane Cove. At the time, no one in Australia was doing contemporary letterpress. I basically had to reinvent the entire process. Find papers, film and plates that were going to work with what I had in mind.
Traditionally, letterpress wasn't supposed to leave an impression. It was meant to print flat, just like Gutenberg did in the 15th century. The printing plate was meant to kiss the paper. But I wanted people to see the craft, feel the quality. My old foreman would have given me an earful back in the day. But when I sent him some of my work and he called it "beautiful" - I knew I was onto something special.
What is it about ink and paper that gets you so excited?
It's like asking a writer why they write. I've loved print since my grandfather gave me a rubber stamp kit when I was six. Even after almost forty years, there's still this incredible rush when I pull the first print off the press.
We use papers from all over the world - like these incredible cotton papers from an Italian mill that's been producing since the 13th century. Some are so beautiful, I almost don't want to print on them. Almost.
How much time goes into perfecting this kind of work? Can it be perfect?
When clients pay good money for letterpress, I think they deserve perfection. None of this "oh, it's handmade, so it's okay if it looks rough" nonsense. That's disrespectful to the craft and to the client. It's like home brewing - having the right gear doesn't make a great beer. Experience and feel matter.
I've been printing for nearly forty years, and the last twenty-five have been dedicated solely to letterpress. I'm a bit of perfectionist - that's a curse and a blessing.
Do you think your style of printing is a dying art form?
Twenty-five years ago? Yeah, letterpress was basically dead. Reduced to printing raffle tickets. It's understandable as offset lithography and digital are quicker from idea to finished product. And for large volume full colour - letterpress is not the choice of process. But since then? We've experienced a renaissance. In a small way I'd like to think we played a small part in keeping this beautiful craft alive.
If you're not in the shop where are we likely to find you?
When I'm not printing? I've surfed for nearly fifty years so I like surf earlythen hang out with my wife and two boys. The Ballina to Tweed area has some of the most consistent surf in the country. The boys are already showing some creative talent. My sixteen-year-old recently surprised me on our little Adana hand press. I'd love them to follow in my footsteps, but I'm not pushing.