in a name?

Guess I'm feeling pretty thankful these days, cause I'm gonna have to give props to a couple more people before I can go on with new stuff...

Before I even bought my press, there came the question of naming it. There are lots of great press names out there, but stealing another press name is generally frowned upon, and hoo boy, watch out if you anger a letterpresser with arms thick from lifting trays of type. So, I began to stir some things in the organic stew I call a brain, and here's what came out...

1. The first press I bought is called a Pilot. I got mine at a pretty skeazy flea market in Ypsilanti, Michigan. Most of the place was full of 8-track tapes and old video cassettes, knives, used records by unheard-of boy bands from the 50s, temporary tattoos, and strangely, baby clothes. But there in the back of the market was a skinny old guy who collected letter press stuff when he saw it. I also bought a bucket of type from him which ended up only causing me hours of confusion and resulted in nothing too usable.

2. My first name is Emily, which is close enough to Amelia.

3. I'm a chick. Sometimes chicks are called ladies.

4. There's a great song by Neko Case called Lady Pilot.

5. There's another great song by the Handsome Family called, "Amelia Earhart vs. the Dancing Bear."

6. My great friend Ben suggested calling my press Lady Pilot.

And so the name is stuck, and thanks to Ben, and to Neko Case and the Handsome Family for writing such cool songs, and to Amelia Earhart for being such an inspiring chick. If the greatness of any of these folks rubs off just a little on my press, the world is soon to be my ink-stained oyster.

props

Featured here: Farrell and Brandon, hard at work trading jokes while the rest of us slave away over hot, dirty presses.


When I moved here from Chicago, I never expected to be doing letterpress. Although I started collecting letterpress type when I was 19 and stopped at a backwoods barn sale, my printing experience in Chicago had been largely limited to work with an anarchist print shop. At the risk of offending, let me just say...BAD IDEA. Running a business with anarchists can put you off printing, politics, art, food, sleep, or associating with anyone for quite a while. True, I had kept my tiniest press and a great deal of type, lugging it from apartment to apartment, but I had never again had the space to truly set up and work.

All of this changed happily when I moved to Asheville and found Blue Barnhouse. I applied for and got an apprenticeship, began working on presses again, along with doing the various errands and coffee-making required of a new apprentice. In all honesty, I don't think I would have considered again buying a press without my experiences here. Blue Barnhouse not only does lovely letterpress work, (coupled with often dirty context), but offered a calm haven, where good music is played, beer is usually present after 3, and sarcasm is an appreciated art form. Check out their blog and cards online at bluebarnhouse.blogspot.com, buy a card, revel in the beauty. Or stop in and meet Brandon, Sarah, or Farrell, but don't tell them I said they were great, I totally won't admit to it.

Mr. Wright, who sold us the press, gave me rides on his golf cart.

The press ready to climb the tow truck bed.

Three very hot guys.

Three very hot guys and a tow truck driver.

The big baby in her home.