For Book Set 2, I’ll be focusing on ‘Cobden-Sanderson and the Doves Press: Arts and Crafts Typography’, a composite of all books printed by the Doves Press in its approximate sixteen year lifespan.

A finely crafted book itself, as if to mirror its prestigious contents, ‘Arts and Crafts Typography’ (as I will refer to it throughout the rest of this post) was interesting to me not because of its aesthetic beauty. Yes, the paper it was printed upon is obviously handmade; it utilizes various shades of roman types, including a particularly elegant italic introduction; and it certainly bears the heavy coloring of a Cobden-Sanderson-inspired work, a transparent and graceful vehicle for communication. But if I wanted to discuss spectacle, I would have picked The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, which practically oozes ornament (a trait I admit I itched to write about at first. Gosh, so pretty).

I was more interested in ‘Arts and Crafts Typography’ for its palimpsestual element. I enjoy seeing the history of a book layered within its own pages, and I felt unnatural fondness for whatever blatantly disrespectful student started doodling in one of the pages of the Encyclopedie, from last week’s book set. In this case, ‘Arts and Crafts Typography’ includes a page from one of Cobden-Sanderson’s works, a small German leaflet in spiky blackletter. The leaflet is, as the introduction proudly proclaims, made of vellum, and this is telling, I think. I did some quick-dip research into John Henry Nash, the publisher of this composite, and he appeared to be an admirer and, frequently, partaker of the Arts and Crafts movement Cobden-Sanderson represented. And he’s Canadian, which is hilarious to me for some reason.

John Henry Nash waxes rhapsodic about the Arts and Crafts movement in his introduction, describing the handmade ‘book beautiful’, a concept begun and perpetuated by William Morris. His decision to make this testament a handmade book itself is proof of Nash’s sentiment for the books he’s compiling. However, the single vellum page in the beginning of his book is what drew my attention most, because it was a nod to the reverence the art of bookmaking had, even in the early 20th century. The contrast between the handmade paper Nash used and the rich vellum he praises in its pages is poignant; and the page he used, a German work in blackletter, seems indicative of a respect for past tradition. It’s charming and a bit encouraging to see the industry and art of bookmaking begin to reflect upon itself.