Sunday, January 1, 2012

German Bookbinder's Song of 1842.

The Chorus by William Hogarth, ca.1850
 German Bookbinder's Song of 1842.

Who can be more contented,
With life as ‘tis. presented.
    To us who bind the books?
Our work is full of pleasures,
We bind the richest treasures,
    And beautify their looks.

CHORUS: Hallo, halli. hallo, halli,
The Binder's life for me,

The plough we move so swiftly.
The hammer wield so deftly,
     Upon the beating stone.
In rounding or in backing,
We find no music lacking.
     Each has its merry tone.

We scrape and gild and burnish,
Till every edge we furnish
     With golden ray of light.
We work most charming headbands,
With blue and white and red strands,
     Like ladies’ dress bedight.

Thc backs we draw on lightly,
The corners turn in tightly,
     Well soaked with good stout paste.
The sides we neatly cover
With marbled paper over,
     To suit the owner’s taste.

Half French, half English binding,
In each a pleasure finding,
     We ready are to do.
The back we neatly fillet,
Or gild with tools to fill it,
     The title letter too.

In carven oak book cases,
And shelves in poorer places,
     Or ladies’ hands I ween:
Before the Sacred Presence,
At wedding feasts as presents,
     Our work is always seen.

The leaders of the nations,
With stars and decorations,
     With us their treasures trust.
Where would be all the sages?
The wisdom of the ages
     Eithout us would be dust.

If all our storied pages,
As in the by-gone ages,
     Were written down on rolls ;
The wear from oft unfolding,
And stains, from students' holding,
     Would oft blot out the scrolls.

But since the art of printing –
The world with glory tinting –
     Brought books within our reach:
In any form of binding,
How easy 'tis in finding,
      Whate’er the pages teach.

There could be no diffusion
Of knowledge, in confusion,
     Of papers loosely laid.
So, colleagues, lift your glasses,
To readers of all c1asses,
     And drink, “Long Live our Trade."

All hail the craftsman's hand, boys!
All through the Fatherland. boys!
     Men still will need our aid.
Long as the world goes round, boys!
Bookbinding can't go down, boys!
      All hail our worthy Trade!

From Journal fur Buchbinderei.

[From the British bookmaker: a journal for the book printer, the book illustrator, the book cover designer, the book binder, librarians, and lovers of books generally, Volume 5, 1891-92, pg 70]

Reference Collection Work

Spent the equivalent of a few fruitful days weeding and shifting my bookbinding/book arts reference collection so that I have _some_ space to grow in all areas. The top 2~3 shelves on the far right are still in flux, but no more books stacked on top of books. All is reflective of refocused collection development policy. Almost like a "real" library. Was precipitated in part by bringing my artist's book collection (not in this picture but on a brand-spanking new Gaylord Bros book cart - the large 3-shelf version) back from work... Beneficiaries of the weeding were my faithful students/friends.


 Still a bit to do, and perhaps more reference books to bring from work, but looking forward to being able to add to my database and use the collection...

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Der Buchbinder a la Die Sendung mit der Maus

Great little German video by Marcel Ernst about bookbinding thematically based on Die Sendung mit Der Maus, a WDR show for kids that explained all sorts of things.Video is in German and starts out with a guy who has a falling apart book. Tries to fix it and finally ends up in a trade bindery that shows how a book is made - double fan adhesive cased binding... Then smiles all around.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Aufschabeblech - What would it be called in English?

From Paul Kersten's Die Buchbinderei und das Zeichnen des Buchbinders ... (Halle a.d. Saale, 1909), plate 1.

An odd looking tool with an even odder name in German, aufschabeblech. It's also referred to as a aufschabebrett as it could be made of wood too. In Italian it's sfilacciatoio and in French effileur. Below is a description of how it would have been used. Apparently, there is no English term, or is there? Suggestions?

So, how was this tool used? After sewing on raised or recessed cords, and the spine pasted up, the cords were cut short and pulled through the holes in the blech (tin), untwisted and then frayed out until very fine using the back of a knife. This then allowed them to be pasted out and neatly fanned out on the wastesheet of the textblock or on the top of the board as in the diagram below from Wiese's Werkzeichnen für Buchbinder..., (Stuttgart, 1937).


About this method of board attachment, Ernst Collin wrote in his Pressbengel (translated as The Bone Folder):
BIBLIOPHILE: Master, your logic is impeccable and I will keep what you said in mind. Let me ask you another question. A librarian acquaintance of mine once said that the French do a much better job with their quarter-leather bindings than the Germans.

BOOKBINDER: That is absurd. What is most likely behind that statement is the difference between the French and German styles in how the boards are attached. Remember how I described pasting the frayed-out cords on the board to attach it? What the French do is lace the cords through the boards to secure them. Here, let’s see what Paul Kersten wrote in his Exaktem Bucheinband: “It is commonly believed that a book in which the boards are attached in the French manner is more durable than one in which the German method is used. This is false. The boards are attached to the text block via the cords, and in all cases the failure was at the hinge and after many years of use, not because the boards were not laced on…” (Note: Kersten, Paul. Der Exakte Bucheinband. Halle (Saale): W. Knapp, 1923. Pages 22-23.)

BIBLIOPHILE: Again, I can’t argue with knowledge and experience of a true craftsman like you.

[Edit: See also my follow-up post on the topic]

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Vee alvays knew zis

Seen on the QEW (Queen Elizabeth Way) leaving Toronto, Canada on the way home this afternoon... One of the most hideous highways I have had the pleasure to drive on. At least something entertaining today...

Bradel General Contractors

Sunday, June 5, 2011

A Binder's Training by J. Franklin Mowery

This article first appeared in the Guild of Book Workers' Journal, Volume XX, 1981-82. It is reprinted here with the permission of the author.

Frank Mowery shortly after his arrival at the
Folger Shakespeare Library in the late 1970s.

My association with books began early. Growing up with both parents librarians, lived in a house full of splendid books and often browsed through the remarkable collection of Wittenberg University, in Springfield, Ohio, where my father was and still is Director of the Library As high school graduation approached, I knew that I wanted a career in books and that binding held a particular fascination for me.

Ignatz Wiemeler with Kurt Londenberg (at right) in Leipzig, Germany, 1937.
From Leben und Werk des Buchkünstlers Kurt Londenberg (1914-1995), Helma Schaefer, ed., Verlag Ludwig, 2009.

What began then was a flurry of letter writing to search out good teachers and places to study, a process that yielded more frustration than results. Finally – a concrete lead that enticed me I Bernard Breslauer responded to a letter: “I recommend that you write to Professor Kurt Londenberg who is, in my opinion, the greatest living German bookbinder." After further correspondence and months of arrangements it was set.

And so, in February 1971, I found myself on a plane to Wiesbaden with one suitcase and a year of high school German. For six months, I worked for Otto Harrassowitz Book Publishing Company (and immersed myself in the German language and way of life At the end of September, I was again traveling to a new city – this time to Hamburg, the Art Academy, and my studies with Kurt Londenberg,

The Art Academy is an L-shaped six-story, red-brick building that borders a canal on one side and faces a lake and Renaissance cathedral on the other. With its magnificent mansard roof it is an imposing sight. At one time the basement housed a veritable zoo with stalls containing horses, cows, birds, and wild animals to provide the art students with live models. Today, fewer 1500 students are enrolled, studying a variety of art disciplines from the traditional studio fine arts to architecture and textile design.

My introduction to Hamburg, the Academy, and specifically the studio where 1 was to spend the next four years was through Frau Barbara Partikel, Professor Londenberg's assistant and the person who patiently took me through the rudiments of binding. On meeting me, she immediately took over with characteristic enthusiasm: helped me enroll, located a place for me to live, and sent me off to the other end of the city to buy bookbinding tools and supplies. As the only full-time student (others came only for brief periods of instruction), r was given the best and most inspirational working area. The studio was a large and spacious room on the third floor with a ceiling that soared twenty feet. My fifteen-foot bench area was situated in the corner with a western view of the cathedral and lake and an expansive northern view of the city and its activities. I had an entire bank of cabinets for my tools, supplies, and books.

On my first official day at the Academy, I met Professor Londenberg, a distinguished looking silver- and white-haired man with a radiating smile that at once revealed an underlying self-confidence and warm, welcoming nature. He was enthusiastic, but serious about his art. "If you work hard, you will get along," he said. I learned that he did not usually have special students and that it had been five years since he had taken a full-time student. Earlier in his career, he would accept students who had completed the three-year German apprenticeship and five-year journeyman studies to prepare them for the Masters-level examinations. Later, he told me that one of the most difficult things he had to do was break many of these students from long-established bad habits.


Raymond Escholier, Cantegril, illustrated by Carlegle. No.4 of  a limited edition with a separate suite of engravings and three original drawings. Paris, Les Editions Pittoresques, 1931. Rust-colored goatskin with inlays of mustard and turquoise goatskin, blind-tooled. Bound 1974. The colors suggest the tiled roofs, the fields, and the waters of the Provence region of France where the story takes place. The blind-tooled design represents the beaded curtains often found in the doorways of cafes, where the story of Cantegril unfolds.

From the beginning, Professor Londenberg emphasized those elements that contribute to an artistically complete volume: a foundation of good quality paper with the grain running parallel to the spine; strong, but flexible sewing for a sound internal structure; a harmony between the typography and illustrations; and a binding that unified the artistic elements into a complementary whole, but did not overwhelm them. he felt strongly that only the finest editions merited the painstaking attention and artistic efforts of a fine binder. This point was concretely reinforced even early on, as I started my work with Insel Verlag publications: small straightforward volumes of 4 to 5 gatherings each but sensitively produced.

My lessons were geared to my rate of development. I moved from binding thin books with flat backs and simple linen or leather headbands that were cased in paper and untitled to binding thicker books that were rounded and backed and covered with quarter-linen and paper sides. Under the guidance of Professor Londenberg, I progressed methodically. Each day seemed to bring new experiences, but everything had to be just right before I moved on. I learned to sew on marvelous Heger Hanfbänder, tapes made of long flax fibers bonded together, that were incredibly strong but could be frayed out easily at the ends and adhered to the waste sheet. Regrettably, I have never seen these tapes in the United States. [note: these are now available as Ramie tapes] I began making decorated papers (marbled papers, paste papers, wax crayon and solvent papers) and experimenting with the methods available to achieve different images through various patterns and coloration.

Ovid's Les Metamorphoses, illustrated by Pablo Picasso.. No. 1005 of a facsimile edition with a separate suite suite of illustrations. Geneva: Production Edito-Service, S.A. Rust-colored niger goatskin with blind tooled lines and title. Bound in 1974. 11 x 8.5 inches. The classic simplicity of the cover design was chosen to complement, rather than compete with the text and illustrations. The color of the leather matches the second color used by the printer for the large initials beginning each chapter.

During semester break, Professor Londenberg arranged for me to work in the bookbinding firm of Willy Pingel in Heidelberg. There I had a chance to graphically compare my artistic world and instruction with the realities of a semi-commercial bindery. I met young Germans going through the official [guild]-prescribed apprenticeship program. For their three years of training, they worked hard and were paid little. I found that in my first semester I had learned more and worked on a greater variety of books than they had throughout their apprenticeship. The stifling atmosphere created by the apprenticeship system was reflected in the discouragement of one man who was seriously considering leaving binding and forfeiting his years of training. The system requires that a journeyman who wants to advance to the Masters level must leave his old shop and set up a new one after passing his examinations. Because of the resulting competition with older and more established firms, many new firms flounder, discouraging many journeymen from advancing to Master status.

 During my second semester, I continued to bind small books in linen and designed paper and added work in quarter-leather and exercises in tooling. Every morning, I would practice tooling using as my tooling surface wooden blocks shaped like books and covered with scraps of leather, attempting to blind tool parallel lines and text of a similar tone. Twice a week, I studied typography as an art and craft with Richard von Sichowsky, a great German master.

Also at this time, I received my introduction to conservation with Frau Wildred Kolmorgen, Head Conservator at the State University Library in Hamburg, when she offered the Library's first conservation workshop. Although the workshop was open only to master binders who worked in German libraries (requirements which I obviously did not meet), I was permitted to attend due to the eloquent persuasiveness of Professor Londenberg. During that month, I learned a variety of techniques: to sew on raised cords, make brass clasps, wash, deacidify, and mend paper. Most exciting, especially for a beginner, was my discovery that the boards used for a particular 1509 Psalter were composed of cut manuscript pages that were eventually pieced back together. Toward the end of that summer, I had the honor of meeting Professor Otto Wächter, Head Conservator at the Austrian National Library in Vienna and instructor in paper restoration at the State Art Academy, who invited me to study with him as a special student on completion of my training in Hamburg.

My second year was more intensely concentrated on the design aspects of fine binding. For each book, I would work out ten to twenty-five designs, discuss them with Professor Landenberg, rework several, pick one, and make final modifications. Only then, and after selecting the appropriate internal structure, color, edge treatment, headbands, and covering material, would any work begin on the unbound book. A protective box lined in silk, felt, or velvet was made for each book.

Pierre Lecuire, Regnes embossed illustrations by Etienne Hajdu, published by the author, 1961. Bound 1987. 38 x 49.5 x 5.5 cm. Bound in white alum tawed goat. The design is based on one of the images in the volume. The binding consists of three layers built up to create the raised positive and negatives design n the boards. The design is reversed on the doublures. Negative spaces are inlaid with black calf. To support the weight of the boards, leather covered brass stilts were incorporated. The headbands are embroidered with plain linen thread. The covers are held closed with leather covered clasps.

The remaining time I had at the Art Academy was spent refining the design and technical skills I had learned. One technique particularly favored by Professor Londenberg, and one I still choose frequently, is the use of dies which opens a range of design possibilities. A photographic process can transfer any
black and white image onto zinc plates that are deeply etched and mounted onto type-high metal blocks for heated impressions or onto wood for cold embossing.

Throughout my years of instruction, the functional integrity of the book was always stressed. The outward design of the covering was never permitted to usurp the inherent utilitarian nature of the book. Flexibility and ease of use were insured by a hollow back (even over raised cords) so that no leather was ever directly adhered to the spine, thus eliminating any possibility or restriction in opening.

There are many particulars of my years spent in Hamburg at the Art Academy that I have not touched upon. But it was not my intention to write a complete, or even comprehensive, essay on my training there. Rather, through this personal account I have tried to highlight some of the aspects that made my training a unique and exciting experience.

Excerpts from the Humorous Writings of Leonardo Da Vinci. Compiled and edited from the original manuscripts by Jean Paul Richter. Printed for the Guild of Book Workers' Potomac Chapter by the Snails Pace Press, 1996. Bound 1997. 18.5 x 27 x 3 cm. Bound in golden brown covered goatskin, Playing upon Leonardo's "mirror writing," the blind tooled designs reverses and flips repetitions of his name. The top edge is decorated with graphite and the headbands are embroidered in gold and brown silk thread.

Some other examples of his work can be seen on his website at Restore Paper.
On a personal note, I want to thank Frank for encouraging me to study bookbinding in Germany following college. It was not until after I returned for the Christmas holidays that I learned that the apprenticeship experience I was having was not in the least like his more academic training, an experience that I thought I would also have. Despite that, and in spite of the challenges I faced, some of which mirror what he observed during his stay in Heidelberg, I feel that my formal "guild prescribed" apprenticeship provided me with a very solid background and prepared me well for working as a binder and conservator. More on that in a later post. Peter D. Verheyen.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Wire "Stapled" Bindings (Drahtheftung)

A few weeks ago there was some discussion on Book_Arts-L about this peculiar style of binding that seems to have been mostly applied in German binders beginning in the 3rd quarter of the 19th century. Hugo Brehmer (1844–1891) who emigrated to the US from Lübeck, Germany is said to have developed the first machine in the US in 1875 that his brother August (1846–1904) is believed to have "perfected." A patent was supposedly issued in 1872, but I have not been able to locate that in the US Patent Office database. The first book produced this way is said to be the official program for the 1876 World's Fair in Philadelphia, PA. In 1879 he returned to Germany, this time Leipzig where he continued with the development and commercialization of his wire binding machine. Brehmer is also credited with developing the first mechanical thread-based sewing machine in 1884.

George Stephen's Commercial Bookbinding (London, 1910) available from the Internet Archive has good English language descriptions of the various kinds of wire binding machines that were in use at the time. Sections describing the wire binding begin on pages 5 and 19. Thank you to Jeff Peachey for pointing me to this text [Added, 5/16/2011].

Beginning on page 19:
Wire Sewing.
In this country wire is not used to any appreciable extent for the sewing of letterpress books, but in Germany books are commonly sewn with wire. Machines for doing this work are necessarily more complex in construction than wire-stitching machines. A typical wire book-sewing machine (Fig. 18) is that made by Mr. Aug. Brehmer, which is used for the sewing of many important publications, including Baedeker's Guides and Brockhaus's Konversations Lexikon. This machine is equally suitable for letterpress work, guard hooks, pattern books, post card albums, and similar work. The machine is fed automatically from spools by small steel rollers and at each revolution as many U-shaped staples are produced as are requisite for each section. A section, having been placed on an oscillating table, is brought into position for being sewn. The staples are driven from the inside of the section through the fold and through the tapes or open fabric which is stretched and firmly held by clasps directly opposite to each staple binder and inserter. The projecting legs of the staples are clinched over, thus producing a firm connection between the section and the tapes or fabric, whichever is used. In order to reduce the swell in the back of the book which would be caused if the staples in the various sections were all inserted in a corresponding position, the machine is so constructed that each staple forming apparatus has two or three shifts whereby the staples in adjoining sections are inserted in different positions so that there appear on the back two or three times as many rows of staples as there are staples in each section. Fig. 19 [not shown] illustrates the positions of the staples in a book that was sewn when the machine was arranged for three shifts ; for the sake of clearness the backing material has been omitted from the illustration. It is estimated that about 2,000 sections per hour can be sewn on this machine. There is no doubt that this method of sewing is very strong; indeed, so firmly are the sections held together that usually the books thus sewn have not that degree of pliability possessed by books sewn with thread. Another objection to wire-sewn books concerns the binder: when it is necessary to rebind such books, the girls in "pulling" them are exposed to the danger of having their fingers torn by the staples. The greatest objection, however, to wire-sewn books lies in the fact that sooner or later the wire will rust and rot the paper and the back fabric to which, it is secured. so that the book will fall to pieces and cannot be rebound without first repairing every fold- an expensive method which would only be adopted for rare and valuable books, because if the book were in print it would generally he cheaper to procure a new copy than to pay the cost of repairing the sheets. Doubtless if only alumenoid wire were used this latter objection would be removed, but as this wire is expensive, its use is chiefly confined to the sewing of books that are to be sent to the East The various climatic conditions to which books destined for the East will be subjected necessitate the employment of a non-rusting wire, such as alumenoid.

Below a diagram of a "modern," i.e. mid-20th century wire binding machine showing how the signatures are attached to the mull backing...

Diagram of mechanism from Bohse's Die Industrielle Buchbinderei (Leipzig, 1955)
Heftköpfe = binding heads, fixed (stapler mechanism); Gaze-Schneideleiste = Gauze/Mull trimming edge; Umlegekasten = [staple] bending unit; Stapeltisch = stack table (for textblock); Gazerolle = Gauze/Mull roll


In contrast to books where the staples went through the entire textblock as in magazines and dime novels, these staples went through the fold giving the book reading properties equivalent to books sewn through the fold with thread. Applied to "mass-produced" trade books, these bindings have held up quite well with rust on the staples being the only real drawback. Depending on the wire, they can also become brittle and break when trying to open for pulling the book down to the signatures. Speaking as a conservator, and as noted in the quote above from Commercial Bookbinding, it also helps to be aware of these when cleaning the spines so as to avoid bloodying oneself.

Lehrbuch der Klinischen Untersuchungs-Methoden, Leipzig 1899.
Detail of spine showing staples used for binding holding signatures to cloth spine lining.
Lehrbuch der Klinischen Untersuchungs-Methoden, Leipzig 1899.
Detail of spine showing staples used for binding holding signatures to cloth spine lining.

Staples sticking up after being unfolded. From University of Illinois' library conservation lab.

Paul Adam described this method superficially in his Practical Bookbinding (London, 1903), the English translation of his work Die Praktischen Arbeiten des Buchbinders (Leipzig, 1898),  Adam, on page 52 describes this method as follows:


And below the illustration from page 53 of the same book.


In Der Bucheinband: seine Technik und seine Geschichte, (Leipzig, 1890) Adam makes use of a different illustration on pg 41 that shows the machine from a different angle.


And here the illustration from Brockhaus' Konversations-Lexikon featured in the previous post.