The Grange at Ellesmere

There was a book arts open day at The Grange at Ellesmere this Saturday just gone.  And as we were (with a large side-curve from the straight route) passing, son and I visited.

We made it with less than an hour of the open day left to go, about which I am moderately gutted because it was utterly lovely.  I confess I didn't really look up at the house - it was manor-like, it was red brick, and I can see from the photo above (which at least looks familiar) that I should have given it more attention - because I was distracted by the garden (and that was before I reached the sunken garden further round) and the singers (Connie and Evie - they were excellent!) and the ambience and the peacefulness of the whole place.  Book arts aside, I could happily have drifted around, doubtless with a ridiculous dreamy look on my face, for several hours.  A sketchbook too - forget hours, I think I could have spent weeks there.

The book arts (such as we were able to see in the short amount of time we had) were scattered around the grounds, in and out of various buildings, and astoundingly good.  Christopher Rowlatt, book restorer and conservator and marbler and much more besides, was a little daunting (though I daunt easily) in his compendious knowledge, but I would have loved to make my way, page by page, through the book he was working on - a volume of David Hume's 'History of England from the Invasion of Julius Caesar to the Revolution in 1688', complete with engravings scattered throughout and printed (I had to check this from the associated blog) on thick, ivory James Whatman wove, watermarked 1794.  I think it might be highly instructive to lurk, unnoticed, while he works for a month or two.  Or six.  Or eighteen.

We couldn't resist a marbling demonstration (I would love to attend a course here) and son came away with his own bespoke sheet - I think I should ensure that it's turned into something useful for him (otherwise it's likely to be turned into something useful for me...). 

Elizabeth Willow, erstwhile Hot Bed Press resident book artist and now tutor there in letterpress, was (where else?) in the letterpress room, where she showed us their vandercook (no more detail than that from me, I'm afraid - I know nothing) and demonstrated it printing.  Oh what a lovely toy.  She must find the HBP adana presses (tiny, all power from your own elbow) so puny by comparison.  She showed us the foil blocker too, so now I have a flyer (I expect it has a less throwaway name) in black and red and a beautiful (and useful) foil-blocked bookmark.

There was a casting room too.  At this point my brain stopped working completely - I would love to know more, but I looked at the machinery and thought how very very very complicated it was and never really got past that point.  It was 5 to closing time by now so the machine was being put to bed, but I don't think I would have understood any more with a demonstration.  Maybe it's possible I could get my head a little more round the whole operation, but I'm far from convinced.  It delights me, though, that the casting of letterpress is happening.

And that was it.  I've already said I didn't look at the house or spend enough time in the garden; neither did I engage with calligraphy or illustration, each of which had a stand.  There were almost certainly other things we missed too.  Same time next year? 

Meanwhile, I'm taking a letterpress course with Elizabeth soon - should be good.