IN DEFENSE OF THE SMALL PRESS: “The Hogarth Press” was a monolith. Sheltered away from London, the Woolf’s became, themselves, mechanical; in 1917 Leonard and Virginia Woolf left London for the leaves of Richmond, and Hogarth house. The Woolf’s had agreed on three resolutions behind the purchase of this space: 1) to buy the house outright 2) to buy a bulldog and 3) immediately procure a hand-press in order that works could be printed independently upon completion. The significance of this literary imprint is unparalleled; the publications issued under their colophon proving then to sculpt the next hundred years of creative literature, but the unparalleled epicenter of the Hogarth Press stands as the domesticity of this mechanization. The Woolfs purchased an ‘excelsior’ printing machine, type, chases, and cases, along with a 16-page pamphlet that would “infallibly” teach them “how to print” in 1917. This measure then ensured the house underwent an occasional transmutation; now standing as an illustrative symbol - ascertaining creative control, independence, and a confidence of voice. On the 30th March, 2011, the full extent of budget cuts posed to the arts sector meant that the Arts Council began to close its doors. The Poetry Publishing Society lost an inexorable fund, thereby problematizing the continued existence of certain presses (‘The Enitharmon Press’ being one of the most reknowned houses to now be in question). A letter bearing the signature of 100 poets was circulated following this financial re-evaluation; this marked move was a move that proved ineffectual. The nature of this loss then instigates the necessity of a prolonged protest, a prolonged involvement with creative processes; the nature of these cuts reinforces the significance of the Hogarth Press, as creative control, independence, and a confidence of voice now stand as the most important epithets of the creative spectrum. Earlier this year, I encountered the work of an Italian based group ‘The Movement for the Emancipation of Poetics’. Their presses, their points of publication, were the Florentine walls of their city; a brick and mortar as representative of an evolving history of aestheticism as the printed page.
The measurement of the M. E. P realizes the action that needs be taken. We must become, in ourselves, mechanical. A kitchen is a workshop. A bedroom is a factory. The articulation of artistic expression is not contingent upon financial backing. There are many potential pitfalls and traps strewn in the path at present, however such an independence would outweigh the limitations of the singular attention of a book. The door would be opened. Questions are raised as to the direction of mainstream poetics in this cultural climate; ‘Faber & Faber’ remain the only house to receive an ostensible form of financial aid. We need not level the arm to raise a gun, but rather attempt to apply a sense of curiosity, a sense of freedom, to the public demonstration of artistic practice.
In discussion of the nature of 'the poet' now, talk seems to revolve around the idea of the poet as personality, as opposed to the poet as 'writer', as 'craftsman'. We should become perpetrators. Craftsmen. Operators. We call ourselves independent, and in this entitled 'age of austerity' this is a very important factor in our practice. The severity of the implemented cuts upon the arts highlights the importance of this sort of venture, the direction of which shall then remain in the hands of those who run and submit to the new groups, those who establish there own avenue for creative exposition. I recently encountered word from another poet on the London circuit who stated that in light of these financial measures, you can now stand for yourself, your own work. The establishment of small presses provides a chance to exhibit work that can remain separate from the economic obligations of the larger publishing houses, allowing the writing a chance to remain free of the constraints of popular taste. We should not wish merely to complement, but would rather move to try and circumnavigate these cultural currents, to establish a climate of our own.
In discussion of the nature of 'the poet' now, talk seems to revolve around the idea of the poet as personality, as opposed to the poet as 'writer', as 'craftsman'. We should become perpetrators. Craftsmen. Operators. We call ourselves independent, and in this entitled 'age of austerity' this is a very important factor in our practice. The severity of the implemented cuts upon the arts highlights the importance of this sort of venture, the direction of which shall then remain in the hands of those who run and submit to the new groups, those who establish there own avenue for creative exposition. I recently encountered word from another poet on the London circuit who stated that in light of these financial measures, you can now stand for yourself, your own work. The establishment of small presses provides a chance to exhibit work that can remain separate from the economic obligations of the larger publishing houses, allowing the writing a chance to remain free of the constraints of popular taste. We should not wish merely to complement, but would rather move to try and circumnavigate these cultural currents, to establish a climate of our own.