Peter Rutledge Koch: Surrealist cowboy and the Codex Foundation

Written for Parenthesis, 2015, following Peter Koch receiving (on behalf of the Codex Foundation) the APHA Institutional Achievement Award at the Grolier Club, New York, ‘for a distinguished contribution to the study, recording, preservation or dissemination of printing history’.

The Codex book fair and symposium arrived perfectly formed on the 13th February 2007. On that warm, first morning in Berkeley, California, as a diverse audience made up of typographers, type designers, book designers, printers, book artists, collectors, curators, and conservators crowded into the auditorium of Berkeley Art Museum, there was a distinct swagger about proceedings. This confident air was, and continues to be, epitomised by its founder Peter Rutledge Koch who, with minimum ceremony but, in the circumstances, understandable fervour, welcomed everyone and set proceedings underway. 

California is a state with a rich and varied culture, where printer/typographers with aesthetic sensibilities – Edwin and Robert Grabhorn, John Henry Nash, Saul and Lillian Marks’ Plantin Press, and Ward Richie (see Baseline 43, Heller; and Baseline 62 Jury) spring to mind – have thrived for over 125 years, and it is still acknowledged as the pre-eminent centre of fine printing and book-making in the United States. This reputation was reinforced with the arrival of a multitude of new presses, all of which had their genesis during the 1970s and early 1980s. Many of these were founded by women: Moving Parts Press, Felicia Rice; Ninja Press, Carolee Campbell; Paradise Press, Susan King; Occasional Works, Ann Rosener; and The Heyeck Press, Robin Heyeck, among others. The state also boasts of major fine press book collections such as Stanford University Libraries and The Bancroft Library as well as a major commissioner of fine press work, The Book Club of California, in San Francisco. 

Peter Koch arrived in San Francisco in 1978, at the height of the book arts revival. Originally from Montana, Koch became involved with typography when, aged 31, he founded Montana Gothic: A Journal of Poetry, Literature & Graphics and a publishing imprint and letterpress printing office in Missoula in 1974 called the Black Stone Press. For Koch, ‘It was the alchemical symbolism of the black stone and the underlying metaphor of an ur-material out of which we form art ... Black was the ink, the printing arts are traditionally known as the ‘devil’s art,’ and turning lead into gold seemed like a good idea since I had plenty of one and damn little of the other.’ 

Koch taught himself how to print from Clifford Burke’s Printing It, a manifesto on self-publishing, and typography from The Design of Books, by Burke’s mentor, Adrian Wilson. Everything else was learnt by trial and error on a beloved seventy-five year old, treadle-operated, Chandler and Price Old Series 8 x 12 jobbing press. When he encountered an insurmountable problem, he would turn to a local job printer for advice. ‘They were usually helpful enough but somewhat distant, as if they knew that if we were to enter into conversation, it might lead to deep divides and, possibly, even trouble.’ 

As a young writer (imagine, believe it or not, a longer-haired Peter Fonda in Easy Rider) Koch was fascinated by the Beat authors, although he admits this was more for their lifestyle than their writing. Of more significance were Arthur Rimbaud, Baudelaire, Henry Miller, City Lights books from the Tangier circle, especially Paul Bowles, plus the kayak writers such as George Hitchcock. To this mix must be added the Dadaists, Surrealists and Fluxus. Such exotic allegiances were not only alien but possibly dangerous in small-town ‘fundamentalist Christian or a ‘live-free-or-die’ Republican Missoula’ of the 1970s. Nevertheless, this did not deter Koch from hanging a sign outside his studio with the words, ‘Bureau of Surrealist Research, Division of Retrieved Dream-Objects’, and set about recruiting ‘a diversity of maverick poets and cowboy surrealists’ to his journal’s cause. ‘Montana Gothic was the fuel that powered my imagination; the printing press the engine that pulled the train.’ The last Gothic was published in 1977 and it was after this, that Koch moved to San Francisco to seek new and broader opportunities in more cosmopolitan surroundings.1 

By the time Koch had relocated his studio and press, he was already familiar with the work of California-based typographers such as Jack Stauffacher and William Everson, as well as Adrian Wilson. He now considered himself to be as much a printer as a writer and wanted to learn more. In 1979, an opportunity occurred to embark on a one-year apprenticeship with Adrian Wilson at The Press in Tuscany Alley and Koch leapt at it. The ten years that followed were hectic to say the least, ‘...working on three or four small jobs: cards; announcements; stationery, at any one time. I made small change from sales of my own press books and a few book commissions, the Book Club of California Quarterly, for instance, were contracts in the five digits, but I was still just squeaking by, no savings, no equity-building, renting everything in a high-rent town. It was a period of working under heavy pressure – and that separates the mice from the cats, let me tell you!’ Koch moved his printing studio across the Bay to Oakland (1984) then to Berkeley (1990) whilst working prodigiously; printing and publishing under numerous imprints, variously named to reflect different aspects of his work: Peter Rutledge Koch, Typographic Design; Peter and the Wolf Editions (with photographer Wolf von dem Bussche); Peter Koch, Printers; Editions Koch; and Hormone Derange Editions. 

By 1989, Koch had established a formidable reputation as a typographer, designer and printer of books and, following Adrian Wilson’s death, was appointed Master Printer and Lecturer (until 1994) when The Press in Tuscany Alley operated as part of the art and creative writing departments at San Francisco State University.2 In 1995, Koch had a mid-career retrospective exhibition, held at The New York Public Library, and The San Francisco Public Library, whose title, Peter Koch, Printer: Cowboy Surrealists, Maverick Poets and Pre-Socratic Philosophers, summed up perfectly his eclectic interests to that point in time. 

For Koch, a sense of disquiet began to set in with the demise of the San Francisco-based journal Fine Print: The Review for the Arts of the Book in 1990. The launch of that journal had coincided with his own initial foray into printing back in Montana, and, since moving to San Francisco, he had been able to walk into Sandra Kirshenbaum’s small office and browse the latest books sent to her for review from Britain, Europe and elsewhere. With that door now closed, there was, quite suddenly, no forum, no lines of communication with which to link this substantial West Coast book-making community with the rest of the world. 

The growing sense of isolation was exacerbated by the proliferation of book fairs established during the 1990s. Of equal concern to Koch was the fact that these fairs invariably celebrated the opportunities proffered by digital technology, the results, too often, a mere sliver away from the Christmas-cracker novelty or greetings card. The shallowness of purpose and corresponding negation of craftsmanship is, for Koch, a damning indictment of a technology that directly influences the quality of material work by its ease of repetition and uniformity of reproduction, power, and strength. ‘An artist needs a combative relationship with materials to overcome the resistance of things as they exist. There, in that struggle, lies the strength of the work.’ 

Koch would also agree that letterpress is not, of itself, a panacea for good printing or good typography. The rise in popularity of letterpress during the 1990s was fuelled by the final flood of letterpress equipment to become available, but importantly, it was a reaction to the all-pervasive nature of digital technology. However, when Koch took up letterpress printing as a novice poet/artist in the 1970s, it was cheap, plentiful, and still in common use by commercial jobbing printers. Letterpress was not so much the ‘alternative’, vaguely rebellious medium many art students perceive it to be today, but instead, simply the most cost-effective way for him to materialise his ambitions, consequently, ‘...the craft aspect of printing was handmaiden to the art of printing’, and, for Koch, there is a difference between the two. 

*

It was 1st January 2005 when Koch, spurred by ‘deep anxiety about the future of the book in uncertain times’, concluded that he must do something to reconnect the Bay Area of California with the rest of the book-making world. In need of stimulation, and intrigued by the reports of book fairs springing up everywhere, Koch had, since 2000, traveled to Amsterdam, Copenhagen, Frankfurt, Venice, Paris, London, Oxford, Rome, Hamburg, Mainz, Vancouver, Los Angeles, Mexico City, and New York City, often in company with his wife and intrepid co-traveler, Susan Filter. They visited every book fair, book store, printer, college, library, and museum they could find that specialised in, or paid attention to, contemporary fine press and artist books. International friendships multiplied and matured. Of book fairs that focused on fine press work, they found just two: the Fine Press Book Association’s fair held in Oxford, England, and the Oak Knoll book festival in Delaware, USA. The relatively small scale of these two renowned bi-annual events meant they were, inevitably, also limited in scope, ‘missing,’ as Koch put it, ‘... so much of the new and exciting work being created outside the Anglo-American communities, including so many of the fine press artist books that were being published in Continental Europe, Latin America, Africa, Asia, and Australia. In short, they were lacking the salsa!’ 

The ‘salsa’ that Koch had in mind was a spicy, even unpredictable mix of creative individuals from radically varied cultural backgrounds; printers, artists, and writers, all, ideally, with a renegade temperament and a relish for the struggle to make letterpress ‘flex’ to their demands. Koch often uses the term ‘fine press artist books’ to describe the ‘high craft, high concept’ work of those who not only test craft-standard practice but also ensure that it remains vibrant by the pursuit of idiosyncratic ideas and their own discreet methods.3 

What was needed, Koch concluded, was ‘a forum, a market-place and rendezvous in the style of the Old West, where the typographers, designers, and makers of artisanal books from around the world could meet every two years to exchange ideas, influence each another, indulge in some serious drinking, as well as sell and/or buy some books. We needed a user-friendly, easy-to-get-to place, amply supplied with book collectors, bibliophiles, curators, and librarians. Add one of the world’s largest surviving commercial Monotype composition facilities, some great book stores, numerous libraries with envious collections, and a world-class antiquarian book fair to cosy-up to in San Francisco – plus good weather, and great food – and you have the San Francisco Bay Area.’ 

By 2004, the various elements were falling into place. When the idea was suggested to friends about starting a book fair as a not-for-profit enterprise devoted to preserve and promote the highest principles and practices of the artisanal book, they were greeted with genuine enthusiasm. As a distinctive personality as well as a creative force in the Bay Area, Koch had always sought out collaborative projects. At various times he has described himself as artist/collaborationist, designer/ printer, and publisher, so, when it came to seeking support for an international book fair and symposium, he knew where to go and to whom to talk. Notices duly went out and the international response exceeded expectations. 

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In the days and weeks following the first symposium and book fair in February 2007, Codex was proclaimed, ‘The World’s Fair of the Book as a Work of Art’. That event hosted 120 exhibitors and sold 1,200 entry tickets.The 2013 (and fourth) Codex hosted more than 220 exhibitors represented from 21 countries, including, for the first time, China, (Leilei Gou from Beijing). More than 4,000 tickets were sold, with many visitors coming for multiple days. The symposium, with seating for 234, was sold out well in advance. 

The fourth Codex was held in a new venue, a huge and magnificent waterfront pavilion in Richmond, just twenty minutes from Berkeley. The evening before the fair opened, anxiety about the move caused a lively discussion about the possibilities of future Codex’s being hosted in Europe, Australasia or South America. However, by the end of the first packed day it was clear that California would remain the home of Codex for some time to come. The scale of the Richmond venue is such that despite the 220 exhibitors, there was still ample space for broad ‘boulevards’ to be arranged enabling the record number of visitors to amble in comfort, take in the atmosphere, and go back for a second or third look. The relaxed ambiance is important. Books depend on quiet, considerate, and polite exchange and, consequently, tend to fare poorly at ‘democratic multiple, paste-up and copy venues’. It is certainly an advantage to all exhibitors that the majority of work represents shared values. The success of Codex points in the opposite direction to, for example, Printed Matter’s Artist’s Book Fairs in NYC, Brooklyn, and LA. As Koch says, ‘Imagine if we had 25,000 visitors to Codex (the number boasted by the New York Art Book Fair) ... quel horror! We don’t want 25,000 visitors, we want 4,000 buyers’. 

Thoughts about the future of Codex focus on cementing those core values laid out at its inauguration. One of the ideas currently occupying Koch and Filter is, not surprisingly, a book. Or two. The combined volumes; Book Art Object, 2009, and Book Art Object 2, 2013, (both edited and designed by David Jury, volume 2 co-edited with Koch) have provided a comprehensive overview of the international state of the book arts during the first decade of the 21st century. These also contain Codex symposium proceedings plus commissioned essays, as well as the work of Codex exhibitors at the 2007 and 2011 fairs. It is envisaged that future books will continue to include symposium presentations but it is hoped that new ways of promoting ‘high craft and high concept work as well as anything else that merits our attention’ will be developed.