This article explores the multifaceted nature of printing plates, specifically focusing on six gilded intaglio plates from the Rawlinson collection at the Bodleian Library. The author engages in a comprehensive examination, employing both traditional and innovative research methods, including scientific technology, to investigate the dual identity of printing plates as functional tools and artworks. The gilded Rawlinson plates are placed within the broader tradition of gilding printing plates, which gained popularity in the 16th century. The article delves into historical examples of gilded plates, exploring instances such as Emperor Rudolf II's ownership of gilded plates and the methods employed for gilding.
Material analysis of the Rawlinson plates reveals an unexpected coating of gold, raising questions about the purpose and timing of the gilding process. The article proposes hypotheses regarding the use of the plates. Furthermore, while shedding light on the historical precedents and traditions of gilded printing plates, it acknowledges the complexity of their status. Initially serving as printing technology, the Rawlinson gilded plates were transformed into precious decorative elements before returning to their original function as printing matrices. The article emphasises the intersection of technology and artistry, inviting further collaboration between print historians, decorative arts experts, and metallurgy specialists to deepen our understanding of these intriguing artefacts.

Between 1620 and 1624, the Antwerp printer Hendrik Aertssens published three texts by Jesuit authors, each of which was illustrated with engravings by Boёtius à Bolswert, namely: Herman Hugo’s Pia desideria, Antoine Sucquet’s Via vitae aeternae, and Jean Bourgeois’s Vitae passionis et mortis Jesu Christi … mysteria. This unprecedented examination of the sales of these publications via the Plantin-Moretus Press of Antwerp provides an exceptional and unexpected perspective on their initial international distribution. In particular: the contrast between the poor reception of Bourgeois’s text and great popularity of the illustrations in London, the persistent requests for Sucquet’s work, and the remarkably large purchases of Hugo’s by London booksellers. Consequently, this article documents how disparate the demand for Aertssens’s illustrated Jesuit editions was and that their impact extended beyond the standard reach of the Jesuit community.

NA

The Society of Antiquaries of London’s collection of one hundred and seventy historical printing plates, dating from the early eighteenth to mid-nineteenth centuries, has long been a hidden gem. This paper presents the results of a research project initiated in 2022, focusing on the provenance, manufacture and bibliographical use of these plates. It explores the evolution of printing practices and the role of coppersmith stamps, shedding light on production methods and industry connections. The project involved digitising the plates for improved accessibility and preservation and cataloguing efforts to establish standardised guidelines for similar collections. Furthermore, the study uncovers the Society’s historical interest in maintaining and utilising these plates, providing valuable insights into past printing practices and collection management. This research enriches our understanding of the Antiquaries’ holdings through meticulous investigation and documentation and underscores the significance of exploring overlooked aspects of historical collections. It also calls for future research endeavours and collaborations to explore connections within the Society’s collections further and expand our knowledge of printing history. Overall, this study emphasises the importance of preserving and studying printing technology as valuable artefacts that contribute to our understanding of the past.

Workshop manuals on lithography tend to be written with art students in mind and the information they contain largely focuses on technical aspects of the process. It is, however, difficult to put into words the nuances of this printmaking practice, and consequently, handbooks rarely refer to sensory information and phenomenological experience. In light of this issue, my intention in Listen is to test the potential and limitations of written language as a means through which to describe the tacit and embodied knowledge of a lithographer. To aid this task, I created a two-minute video recording of myself preparing a lithography stone and this video features as a central element in the text. Prompted by a process of transcribing its sound, this video became the protagonist of a transdisciplinary encounter between lithographic sound and words. Structured as an intertextual narrative, Listen couples the transcription of the video with a historic, geological and cultural survey of sonorous stones. Punctuating the dialogue, are quotations from lithography handbooks that tether this serendipitous exchange to its intention: that being to speak about the perceptual realms of lithographic practice. At the core of Listen, is the subject of graining limestone—a process that requires both careful attention, to ensure that the surface is even and free from unwanted marks, and a tolerant sensitivity to the abrasive noise of graining stone. These two aspects, attention and noise, are entwined in the content, critical interests, and metaphorical dimensions of Listen. As a piece of written material from ongoing practice-led research that explores the intersection between lithography and language, Listen knowingly tests the protocols of academic language. My intention through this unconventional approach, is not to present the results of an enquiry, but to offer the reader a scriptural space for contemplative reflection. Somewhat akin to the practices of stone lithography, I suggest that the act of engagement that Listen proposes is rewarded by intimate attention and sensitivity to the presence of noise.

A solicited Note in Print Quarterly

In this essay, I argue that Raphael’s double portrait of Agostino Beazzano and Andrea Navagero formed the painter’s fullest response—made in purely pictorial terms—to Renaissance prosody as it was then being developed by his friends, especially the portraits’ sitters and Pietro Bembo. The drafts of Raphael’s own sonnets on drawings made while he was painting the Stanza della Segnatura are visualizations of the intellectual labor his poetic compositions entailed. A close looking at their placement across the paper on these “ekphrastic sheets” (to use Francesco Di Teodoro’s term) as well as changes in the sonnets’ texts offer tools for understanding the double portrait of Raphael’s poet-friends. Raphael’s often dismissed efforts at poetry made on these study drawings thus blossomed half a decade later in the contribution to Renaissance literary theory he made as a painter.