Four years is a long time for a press to stand idle. I attribute it to the recent onslaught of world events that have left me paralysed with anxiety. What with Covid, the climate crisis, invasions of Ukraine and Gaza, growing fascism and propaganda, I feel as if the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse have descended upon us. Each time I tear myself away from the 24-hour news cycle, each time I walk into my little print shop, I find myself procrastinating: “What can I possibly print that will make any difference, given the state of the world?” This refrain that constantly runs through my head has left me weary and disheartened.
And then. And then! A grandchild. A grandson. His arrival brings joy and wonder to our family. How lovely, how innocent he is! How so tiny and beautiful a child can open my heart to the immense hope and potential of our world is nothing short of miraculous.
Somehow, I see purpose in my press once more. I see the elegance of poetry and prose, the humour of some curmudgeonly writers, the beauty of type itself. There are things I need to print now.
But this is a fragile state, one that must nurtured with care. I’m learning to embrace the tranquility in my print shop again. No more doomscrolling through news sites; strictly limited screen time. Time spent with family and loved ones — and time spent rediscovering my print shop. I sort the odd bits of type and spacing material deliberately, mindfully. I replace the packing on my cylinder press. And it’s time to ink up again.
Congratulations on your grandson’s arrival! And very glad to hear that you are spurred to return to the print shop, to make things, even in the face — especially in the face — of all that is happening in the world, near and far.
All best energies to you, and inky solidarity,
Emily
St Brigid Press
Afton, Virginia
Thank you so much. I too am happy to be back in here.