A Behemoth

massive press
Monster press. Evergreen Brickworks, Toronto, Canada.

I initially thought this was the most massive two rod screw press I had ever seen.

The center screw was six inches in diameter diameter with a very low thread pitch. The rods were almost four inches in diameter. The upper and lower platens were doubled, one completely encircles the rod and the other runs along it, which I’ve never seen before. It could squeeze the ink out of a book.

But looking closer, the wheel troubled me: it was oddly placed, way too high to be easily accessible, and delicate looking when compared to the rest of the press.

Upon reading the nameplate, it turned out this was a scales and not a press. Likely the machine which did the measurement fit inside the platens, and the screw was a way to calibrate it. I also think this machine was connected to the inside of the brick making kiln behind it.

The W & T Avery Ltd. Co., who made this machine is still in business, and one branch of the business is Avery-Denison. They make sheets of PSA stickers to run through a computer printer, very much the opposite end of the weight spectrum from this monster.

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Detail of nameplate. Evergreen Brickworks, Toronto, Canada.

 

Books as Tools and Owner Repairs

book repair
Machinery’s Handbook.  My Collection.

This is not the way I would ever repair a book. On the other hand, this is my book, and I bought it because of this repair; the massive amount of masking tape. I can appreciate that the owner—likely a machinist—did anything possible to keep this book functioning. This book was as important to a working machinist in pre-internet days as any of his other tools.

Machinery’s Handbook contains charts, reference information and formulas, and was so useful that Gerstner, a wood machinist chests manufacturer,  incorporated a special drawer in some of their machinist’s chest to store this book.

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The book fits into the middle drawer, spine up. Source: http://gerstnerusa.com/restoration-and-repair

All books are tools for reading, but in many ways this book is even more of a tool than other books. So should it be repaired, conserved or restored differently? Nineteenth century owner repairs, which are often sewn, are becoming increasingly valued as part of the history of a book’s circulation, value, and usage. Could a masking tape repair be similarly prized a hundred years from now? But what would be left? Could the “patina” of cross-linked deteriorating adhesives someday be valued?

Mindy Dubansky recently posted other cool examples of owner repairs at ” It Seemed like a Good Idea at the Time: Crazy Book Repairs, Part One” In general, I don’t consider these types of repairs crazy, though. They are expedient. practical and reflective of the bookbinding knowledge of the owner, which is understandably low. Just don’t expect them to last too long.

Losing It

At Hopes and Fears,  Jared Fischer asks a variety of educators, neuroscientists, and others the question: “How long does it take to lose a skill?”

Most of the answers are theoretical, and the main consensus is that it is dependent on the skill and how it was acquired.  Similar to the ‘you never forget how to ride a bicycle’ adage, crafts and activities that require extensive muscle memory to learn (and the least conscious attention to perform) tend to be the most durable. Many aspects of bookbinding and knife sharpening fall into this category, and these are some of the most difficult skills to initally learn.

It’s a great question, relating not only to the acquisition of craft skills, but the maintenance of them.  Some answers in the article may contain seeds of argument for institutional conservators who feel they are trapped in front of a screen and need to justify bench time. But no practitioners were ask to self-report on their own experience, so I will ask myself.

Q: Jeff, how long does it takes to lose a skill?

A: I usually don’t subscribe to the idea that various crafts and skills sets are so different that there are isolated muscle memories associated with them.  When I teach freehand knife sharpening, for example, I try to emphasize the relationship between sharpening and leather paring: the muscle memory that it takes to hold the knife freehand on the sharpening stone is closely related to the way you need to consistently hold the knife to pare. So in many regards, I think if you are active in some craft activity it can slow the erosion of neglected skills in another.

That said, when I was a kid I tried to learn how the juggle one summer.  It seemed like hundreds of hours were spent, essentially in failure.  But the next summer, I picked up the three balls and for some reason it just worked.  Juggling may be pure muscle memory, since it primarily depends on how accurate you throw the ball.  Now when I try it, I am not nearly as good, but can keep the balls in the air for a short time and suspect if I kept at it could return to a basic proficiency. So in this case, the skill is severely degraded, but not lost.

A dispiriting aspect of this question is that one’s intellectual knowledge of what constitutes skillful performance often increases during the time that the physical ability to accomplish this decreases.

Well worth reading other perspectives:  “How long does it take to lose a skill?”