Zeichen Press – Page 29 – Design & Letterpress for the people.

Teaching strange children

As we pulled up in the parking lot to our Pre-School Speaking Engagement, Jen reminded me not to swear in front of the children. I told her I would do my best but I wouldn’t make any promises and that sometimes I need to use strong language to really make my point… sometimes I need to use strong language when children REFUSE TO BEHAVE.

I’m kidding. I told Jen to stick it in a hole. She’s not the boss of me. Then she slapped me good and hard. I can’t say that I blame her.

It took a few minutes for the kids to warm up to me. My costume might have confused them. Anyway, I brought a chase locked up with wood type and set it on the floor.

When I was a kid, I saw a kid throw another kid’s shoe into the Primate Den at The Como Zoo. The monkeys approached cautiously but before long they were all over that shoe. They wanted that shoe. I was fascinated. But then I was distracted because of�another�kid. A�mischievous boy who met his match�while trying to climb over a spike-tipped, wrought-iron fence.

I love the zoo.

January 29, 2009
Voodoo

What in the ding-dang are these city-folk up to now??!! Putting pins in good folks and charging money for it?! I got myself some thumbtacks and I can put ’em anywhere you damn well please and charge you half ‘n what these quacks are taking. You mark my words, next there’s gonna be all kinds of potions and maybe even some of that herb smoking. I got news for you:

This ain’t California.

We like our doctors wearing stethoscopes and blue pants. We like our doctors to give us shots when we don’t feel good. We like being sent to the pharmacist. WE LIKE IT.

Oh, flibbity flam. I’ve got some noodlin’ to do. Have a look at some of Fran’s “work” for Performance Acupuncture.
Logos… What the?

January 23, 2009
The calm before the sh*t storm

One of my stalkers used to say, “I’ve gottalotta things in the hopper. A lot. In the hopper.” I often wondered if one of those things in the hopper was making a skin suit out of me. But I never asked – I love surprises. He once chased me on roller skates. I wasn’t even scared. Now, the cab-driver… the stalking cab-driver, he was a little scary. Although… he’d drive by an Old Country Buffet and�was so high he’d often forget he was stalking me. He just couldn’t resist the chicken-fried-chicken.�

But enough of these bedtime stories!

WE’VE got a lot of things in the hopper: A Logo, Oscar-luncheon-gift-bag-goodies, a show at a gallery, a speaking engagement in front of pre-schoolers, a bat mitzvah invitation, more stupid catalogs. I’m nervous about the speaking engagement. If I make eye-contact with any one of those children they’ll own me. The last thing I need is a room full of kids throwing lead type at my head.

In preparation for the upcoming events I decided that someone should clean our little shop of horrors. Someone did. Isn’t it cute? *Note the framed photo of Kelly Clarkson next to the hanging hammer.

January 22, 2009
Won’t you be my neighbor?

Hot Plate‘s�Mexican Omelette was again sending me messages. Who am I to ignore them? I just do what I’m told.

Exhausted from an earlier outing, I had my husband drive our team of horses. I was cozy warm because I stuffed hot potatoes in my pants.

While I devoured my second Mexican Omelette of the week I chatted with owner, Carrie Lewis. She told me a tale. A tale that reminded me of how dark the soul can be… a tale of the flawed nature of humanity. I openly wept as she about her passive aggressive neighbors. And, as I sipped my 9th delicious latte, I formulated a plan: I would counter the negativity directed at�The Best Restaurant on the South Side�by channeling the Prince of Peace, Mr. Rogers.

Who better to handle bad neighborhood karma than him? I can think of no one. I have created this card and will be making a plate asap. Reserve one (or five) today because they will be selling faster than Hot Plate’s pumpkin pancakes.

January 19, 2009
May my suffering bring you joy

Only my fellow Minnesotans and residents of�Chicken, Alaska�can truly understand what it means to be cold. I am intrigued by deadly weather. Cold that can freeze a limb solid. Cold that flattens your car tires. Cold that makes your eyeballs feel funny. I braved the extreme cold today.

Twice.

-21� is COLD. But a Mexican Omelette was whispering my name with such longing… I put on every bit of clothing I own and headed outside. The car actually told me to F – Off. I reminded it that we were both in this together and that if it cooperated I would fill it up with Premium Gasoline. Foolish car, choosing gasoline over Mexican Omelette!

When I was safely inside of�Hot Plate�I laughed… Oh, how I laughed – and saluted the outdoors for being a worthy adversary. Later that day (that SAME day) I went outside again. I actually ran to the studio. It took 1.5 seconds. Luckily my exposed body part (my bottom) was unharmed.

Where was I? Oh, yes. I risked my limbs (and bottom) to run to the studio and lay out previously written cards. Three birthday cards. The metal type was awfully cold. I wanted to lick it but I exercised restraint.

January 16, 2009
Back in the shop

The low magenta toner has put a hold on the catalog production. I am really, really upset about it. I’d like to spend more time with the new laser printer. Understanding its quirks, its likes and dislikes. What makes it get out of bed every morning? Does it enjoy being my slave? Don’t worry, Brother HL-4070CDW – this is only temporary. Jen paid the extra $3.99 for shipping and your toner will be here Wednesday. Thank you, Jen. I mean it.�

So I spent the day in the shop. Despite my tears I was able to lay out some previously written cards. I think the anguish really comes through. I am, after all, an artist. My soul is appropriately tortured. Whoa is me.

January 12, 2009

All Apologies

Wouldn’t it be great if there was a single greeting card that could wrap up your feelings of culpability completely? Sometimes�saying�your sorry just doesn’t seem like enough. Sure, you could�show�the offended party your remorse, but that can take up a lot of time (and energy!). I’ve put a sizable amount of thought into this issue and believe I’ve come up with a solution that will satisfy both parties.

I give you, The Apology Card:

March 11, 2012
CRIKEY

At my ballroom dancing school, I was a hesitant, awkward girl. I wore glasses and oversized t-shirts.

My papa, and my entire Spanish gypsy family, were skilled in the ways of dance but it was hard for me to incorporate my roots into ballroom dancing.

How did I do it?�As luck would have it, the handsome star of our dance school agreed to start practicing with me. Pretty soon he was wearing a matador jacket and I didn’t even need my glasses.

Speaking of Australia!�Zeichen Press just got an�Australian distributor!

March 8, 2012
Clich�s and Slogans

Are non-Western cultures conversations peppered with trite, colloquial sayings?

Like, in�Kapushi, Zambia (population: 26 people per mile) ��does one friend say to another�(in�Kaonde)�upon receiving news that their baby was trampled by antelope,�“Everything happens for a reason”?�

These condensed and optimistic phrases are woven into our chats and unless you are a hermit or deaf, we are all guaranteed to hear at least one per day.

March 7, 2012
Man Up

Sometimes a man’s manliness must be recognized.�Manly�is a term often reserved for a lumberjack, firefighter, or bounty-hunter. A narrow and unfortunate caricature. Why not a goatherd? Or glass-blower? Or gemologist?

Anyman*�that strides confidently into their chosen arena (office, field, arcade, classroom, rubber raft, bowling alley, butcher shop, grist mill) and�owns it�is, in my opinion,�a beast.

Give them this small token: (They will grunt, nod, excuse themselves, and go into the bathroom to shed a single tear.)

*Did I make that up?

March 4, 2012
I Don’t Understand You

I’m talking about leap day.�Don’t even bother trying to explain it to me, I don’t actually care. The important thing is that I milked one more day out of this prudish month.

Zeichen Press would be nothing without self-imposed deadlines (and cake) and our card-release was set for March 1.

It was a real pressure-cooker situation around here � and because I don’t have enough intensity in my life, I locked myself in the linen closet and reenacted Apollo 13’s return journey. Just me, my laptop, both cats, and toilet paper tubes. We got home safely, God Bless America.

Anyway, we can thank the ground crew (Kim & Fred) for jury-rigging up product photos:

March 1, 2012
Mister Eat All The Things OR Three Acres And A Cow

There once was a Frenchman that could, and would, eat large objects. He ate them bit by bit and was able to digest bicycles, televisions, shopping carts, chandeliers, and even an airplane. This took patience and, reportedly, gallons of mineral oil.

Bit by bit.

This wasn’t some sort of performance art piece � he never meant for it to be a metaphor.

But he ate a plane.

Such deliberateness! I like to imagine that he carefully considered each piece as he pried it off and swallowed it.

Mister Eat All The Things�(Monsieur Mangetout) could be an�inspiring mascot for an�economic philosophy.

I’ve been told that a printing press in the shop is just as good as three acres and a cow.�We’ll see. WE’LL SEE.

Anyway, I made this card for the president of�The Society of Distributism�because he has a fancy book signing coming up � 150 lucky people will receive the card. Oh, and a signed book.

February 26, 2012
Using Big Words

The Epilepsy Foundation�needed a new look for their fleet of trucks and�The Carney Group�contacted me (via telepathy) to see if my brain was available to think of ideas.�I’m not just a brain. Geez.

I rescheduled my ice-pick lobotomy and put on my thinking cap.

What if the trucks were bright red and had big white letters with a line like, THIS TRUCK CONTAINS TWO TONS OF HOPE??

Yes?

Okay.

February 19, 2012
American Psychiatric Association Adds Clown Phobia to list of Disorders: Clown Uprising Imminent

Do I have to write the script myself?�The script that tells the tale of an experiment gone horribly wrong � a pharmaceutical company hot on the heals of developing a drug that ends all pain and suffering forever??

The drug, nicknamed “Bozo” does so well in animal testing… So well, in fact, it is released to the general population of prison inmates.

Death row no longer feels like a death sentence, cold concrete cells feel like a day spa, “relationships” feel special.

Until… The unexpected “side effects” begin to develop… Oh, it’s too sick. Just imagine a zombie movie but replace the zombies with clowns.

Here’s a birthday card:

February 16, 2012
When Good Kittens Go Bad

Some kittens are sociopathic � everyone knows that. Do not be fooled by their charm! Beneath that furry, purring coat lies a circuit board of complex manipulation.

I’ve heard some successful rehabilitation stories but if you, or someone you know, lives with one of these creatures, it might be better to abandon it on the side of a highway.

February 12, 2012
Mawkish

[maw-kish] adjective�sentimental in a feeble or sickly way�� archaic�having a faint sickly flavor : the mawkish smell of warm beer

I don’t think I understand the definition. Or, maybe I do. Aren’t a lot of greeting cards mawkish?

Who would give that card? Wait, who�made�that card? Probably a very nice person. A person who loves hearts and roses and rhymes and sparkles.

I tried to make a mawkish card.�That’s�Hugh Beaumont,�the kindly father from�Leave it to Beaver.Hugh hated that he was typecast and later opened a Christmas tree farm in Grand Rapids, Minnesota. I don’t think he opened the Christmas tree farm because he hated that he was typecast. But I don’t know – he was obviously a complicated man.

February 9, 2012