Heading into Home Waters
"Master and Commander" Updates and More
We'll rant and we'll roar, like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas;
Until we strike soundings
In the Channel of old England,
From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues.
Dear shipmates,
We have been working hard – long days, nights and weekends – on our journey to complete Master and Commander. As a result, there has been little time to write. But I wanted to provide a brief update – including a video of our progress and a timeline for completion.
If we take the journey back to “old England” as a guide, we are still somewhere between Ushant and Scilly. That is, we are in home waters, but not quite at anchor in safe harbor.
When I last wrote, I noted that “we are attaching leather headbands, adding the final lining to the spine, and preparing to attach the boards to our books.” I am happy to report that all of this has been done, and our books now look like books. All of the structural elements are now complete, and we are starting the decorative process: covering of the books in leather and hand-marbled paper, and adding the gold-tooled leather labels.
So, while we are close to finishing, it does seem as though we will need to extend the production timeline slightly. Could we finish by the end of August? Possibly, but it would rush things. As those who have followed our progress know, we are committed to both transparency of process and quality of production. I would rather take the time needed to make the books the best I possibly can.
Before providing a new timeline, I would like to write briefly and reflect on how my creative process is relatively unique within the world of fine press books. Since the very beginning of “fine press books” during the Arts and Crafts Movement of the late 19th and early 20th century, there has always been a tension between the singular vision of what we would today call a “creator” and the efficiency achieved through a division of labor. With the founding of his Doves Press in 1900, T.J. Cobden-Sanderson wrote, “[I]t is necessary to gather together a number of craftsmen into one workshop and to set them to work as one man… [M]any men & many women may well co-operate to the production of a single work.”
To this day, this albeit limited division of labor is how most fine press books are created. Designers design, printers print, and book binders bind. Each of these aspects may, of course, require multiple people. In the case of Master and Commander, I have undertaken to do virtually every step with just the labor of myself and my trusty sidekick Emiland Kray. From the design and layout, through 2023’s long, hot summer of printing, on to the seemingly endless steps involved in such a complex and period-accurate binding, to the final decoration, and – eventually – to the shipping, every step has my fingerprints on it, quite literally. Although this means that each copy is the result of a duo of craftspeople – something very rare in the world of even small-scale fine press books – it means that the process is also vulnerable to the vicissitudes of life. A single migraine, for example, can mean a multi-day delay in production.
The upshot of all of this is a new timeline for the remainder of production:
Completion and shipping of Anchor Edition (without clamshell box add-on): September 30
Completion and shipping of Anchor Edition (with clamshell box add-on): October 31
Completion and shipping of Victory Edition: November 30
The journey of creation is never fast nor smooth. Like the voyages of Jack and Stephen, sometimes one encounters contrary winds, doldrums, rough seas, and an ornery crew (in this case, myself). But our lookout has spotted land and we are in home waters. I am excited that you will be there to greet us as we enter the harbor.
Raised Cords and Bookbinding: A Rant
As a reproduction of an English binding circa 1800, our edition of Master and Commander features raised bands. Like books of the era, our book has been sewn onto linen cords, which provides structure and strength. When covered in leather, these cords create the distinctive raised bands that are among the most desirable traits of many antique books. Such raised bands are visually appealing and bring a tactile delight to the reader. It is one of those lovely results of “form following function” that drives much of my design aesthetic. Beauty highlights the structure and construction of the book. More than a century after Arts and Crafts Movement luminary Cobden-Sanderson laid out these core principles in The Ideal Book, they inspire my work today.
As bookbinding moved from handcraft to industrialized product, new forms and styles of binding emerged – none of which featured raised cords. Until the early 19th century, publishers would sell books primarily “in-pages” and the customer would have a local craftsperson bind it into a book; no two copies would, therefore, look the same. By the mid-19th century, publishers had brought the binding process in-house, utilizing binding structures that could be mechanized. An example of such production can be seen in this first edition of Thoreau’s Walden (1854).
Here, although the decorative lines on the spine hint at raised bands, the spine itself is smooth.
By the late 20th century, a movement of “designer bookbinding” – the creation of extremely fine, artistic bindings by hand – had developed. Remarkably skilled and artistic bookbinders – some of whom I have highlighted previously – were creating some stunning, artistic fine bindings. In the process, however, an aesthetic trend emerged, one in which “form over function” often replaced “form following function.” For example, many fine books today feature faux raised bands on their spines. That is, rather than achieving raised bands through a process of sewing the book onto cords, strips of leather are glued onto a flat spine and then covered. Although this recreates the look and feel of an on-cords binding, I find it grating.
I am sure that the experience of sewing, rounding and backing nearly 150 books on-cord books this summer has colored by view on this topic, but faux raised cords just feel wrong to me. In an era in which handcraft is a luxury, I think that aesthetic honesty is all the more important. Philosophically, I believe that what distinguishes art from craft is that the latter seeks to unite beauty with function. As I have written elsewhere, the Arts and Crafts Movement sought to find beauty within the constraints of function, often highlighting the function. The joints between pieces of wood in a Greene and Greene building are made beautiful; the structural vellum bands in Karen Hanmer’s The Ideal Book are gilded. But, no matter how beautiful, a building whose roof leaks or walls fall down is simply poor craft (I am looking at you Frank Lloyd Wright). It may be great art, but not great craft. And I love craft.
So, when you read a copy of Master and Commander, remember that those raised cords over which your fingers move are the real deal – an indication of the handcraft, structure, and function of its creation.
Virtual Studio Visit Planning - Query
I am thinking about hosting a virtual studio visit in a couple of weeks. It would be a chance for people to see work in progress, ask questions, and connect with me and other likeminded bibliophiles. To help plan, please take a minute to answer a couple of questions:
I admire your dedication and commitment to craft, Tristan. Wishing you all the very best in bringing this ship to safe harbour.