Posts tagged community
Molly's First Year at C&Co
Trying my hand at working with Heidi. She’s temperamental sometimes, but she’s a great coworker when it comes to getting the job done. Here, I’m printing some of our snarky, honest notepads, likely for the first time ever.        Below, you can see one of the first cards I had a hand in creating around the time when I first started in 2018.

Trying my hand at working with Heidi. She’s temperamental sometimes, but she’s a great coworker when it comes to getting the job done. Here, I’m printing some of our snarky, honest notepads, likely for the first time ever.

Below, you can see one of the first cards I had a hand in creating around the time when I first started in 2018.


Hello friends,

Your friendly neighborhood printer here. It’s officially been a year since I responded to Sara’s “help wanted” post on Instagram (The wonders of social media, am I right?) and I, like Michelle, have been thinking a lot about everything I’ve learned in the past 12 months. 

I’ve obviously grown a lot as a printer - I tackled and conquered Heidi (our feisty Heidelberg windmill and the “baby” of our three presses), I’ve had the opportunity to design a couple cards for the shop, and have enjoyed perfecting the card making process from start to finish (Literally, from taking the parent sheets of paper out of the box to packaging them to send to all of you.). But, I think being a part of this team has taught me something much more valuable, because what I’ve taken away most out of the last year is the importance of connecting with people. 

Constellation & Co is built on making connections. It has made a business of keeping snail mail and the sentimental, written word alive because Sara values the connection that it drives and the ties that it has the power to make and keep. Snail mail is not the only way we connect, though. I look at snail mail as just a space keeper for whatever you’re interested in that connects you to other people. Insert your hobby here, and that’s where you’re going to find your people. For me and this job, and for me and Sara, the connection was letterpress printing. 

I was one point of connection away from never seeing Sara’s post and never getting this job. Although the letterpress community is small, I hadn’t been a member of it for very long and I hadn’t yet discovered Constellation & Co. I had, however, just been in New York at a Book Arts summer camp of sorts and had made several great friends there, one of whom followed Sara on Instagram. She saw the post, knew I lived near Seattle, and tagged me. The rest is history. I couldn’t type an email to Sara fast enough, with a resume and short note about myself (all while trying to sound cool and totally not desperate). But, I was desperate. Not only for a job - which, I totally was - but desperate for a connection. A connection with someone who spoke the language of letterpress, someone I could learn from, and an environment I could grow in and continue to connect with fellow lovers of 100-year-old printing presses. 

That’s all any of us really want, right? As I print in front of a giant window, I am able to do a lot of people watching. My favorite scenario to watch play out are the people that wander upon the shop by mistake, but do a double take as they catch a glimpse of the presses through the window and immediately make a quick dash for the door. I can tell they’re coming right for me. I can tell they’re a printer, or that they took letterpress printing in high school or college, or that their dad had a print shop in their basement. We have an instant connection, and for a few minutes we are speaking the same language. 

I’m grateful for the friends and opportunities that this job and this past year has given me and I’m more excited then ever to see what the next one will bring. 


Interview: E. Smith Mercantile

I know I say this every time, but I'm really excited about this interview! I sent the lovely ladies of E. Smith Mercantile some questions, and Jessie Poole kindly responded. E. Smith really is my happy place.

(You may remember our trunk show in August.) Everything inside is perfectly curated, and they serve coffee in the daytime and cocktails at night in their back bar. I can't overstate how much I love this store and these ladies!

Q: What inspired you to open a retail shop in today's economy?
As a family business, we were very excited about the opportunity to create a space that allowed each of us an outlet for our many interests. We're also so lucky to be participating in a resurgence, if you will, of Pioneer Square business. It's important for us to create a community space and offer services for this great, historic piece of Seattle.

Q: You're a family business through and through. What is it like, working so closely with family?
We've always been very close. The vast majority of the time it's a truly spectacular experience. We've found it helps people feel like they're in our home, they can be comfortable and feel taken care of because they truly are our guests.


Q: What have been your biggest challenges at the shop?
I think like any small business finding the right balance of obsessing over what you do and maintaining your outside interests can often be a challenge. Luckily there's more than one of us so we can all take turns picking up the slack.

Q: What have been your biggest joys?
In the beginning it was watching people's faces the first time they came in. Now people tell us that they want to live there. It's heartwarming and continues to be inspiring to have other people inspired by the space.


Q: Where do you go for inspiration? (Your decor, products, and food/drinks are very obviously inspired!)
Personally, I love my nature time. There's nothing like a weekend in the woods with a fire place and friends. For a quick afternoon pick me up the Pacific Antique Galleries is a wonderful place for inspiration.

Q: What's your favorite place to shop in Seattle? (Other than E. Smith, of course!)
I love to wander through Elliott Bay Books, and while I'm up there, might as well stop into Totokaelo and touch the pretty things, right?

Q: What's your favorite place to eat in Seattle?
We're big fans of the Walrus & the Carpenter. Also wouldn't say no to a dinner at Lark, a brunch at Toulouse Petit, or the entire menu at La Carta de Oaxaca.

Interview: Henrietta's Eye

Henrietta's Eye is the wet plate collodion tintype photography of Seattle-based couple Libby Bulloff and Stephen Robinson.

Libby and Stephen are also our next-door studio neighbors at 57 Biscayne! We recently had our tintype photographs taken, and it was amazing. If only cameras could talk... but this Q&A with Libby & Stephen is the next best thing!

Q: How did you get into tintype photography?
Libby first saw wet plate photography demonstrated a couple of years ago by local ambrotypist Dan Carrillo, and immediately fell in love with the visceral nature of capturing an image in chemicals on a piece of metal or glass.

Ever since being captivated by the work of Mathew Brady, Alfred Stieglitz and Walker Evans, Stephen has been fascinated with old photographic processes and the craftsmanship involved. He loves both the surreal nature and the stark honesty conveyed by large format photography.

Last year, in one of those seemingly small events that ends up deeply life-affecting, our friend Magpie Killjoy, a traveling photographer, designer, and writer, came to Seattle and taught both of us how to make tintypes using his antique camera in exchange for studio time. We were both so immediately taken with the process, and more so with the results, we threw ourselves headlong into learning more. We then spent the next two months tracking down and repairing our 1908 Seneca Black Beauty 4x5 camera, named Henrietta, building a portable darkroom in a foot locker, researching techniques and materials, and taking lots and lots of photos. We constantly experiment and try to perfect a complicated process we full-well know cannot be perfected. We especially love using old gear, from the camera to lenses, to lighting.


Q: What is attractive to you about the method?
We are both attracted by the hand-crafted nature of this process. From start to finish, your hands touch everything. It is very intimate. Each photo is unique. Even if you shoot the same model on the same day, with same lighting and the same exposure time, each plate is different. They’re like tiny chemical paintings in this respect, each with their own beauty, nuances and imperfections. While on the surface it may seem frustrating to not be able to duplicate a photograph, we find it exhilarating and inspiring. Another aspect of creating tintypes we find attractive is that no computers or electronic devices (aside from the lights) are involved. There’s an element of magic and alchemy to the process and the resulting photograph that cannot be duplicated by modern digital photography. We create heirlooms and lasting, honest-to-goodness artifacts. Tintypes from the Civil War era are still around (and valued by collectors) so we know they will last at least 150 years. Ultimately, for us, creating tintypes is art. There’s both an art to the process, and the process allows us to create beautiful art.

Q: In your words, how does the process work?
The basic method of making a tintype can be distilled down to a couple of key steps. We use a process that is very authentic to the one popularized in the mid-1800s. First, we take a piece of enameled aluminum and coat it in chemicals that allow it to become light sensitive. Then, we carefully load it into the camera and expose it, creating a negative image directly on the metal plate. After that, we develop and stop it under a safe light in our portable dark room, and then fix it in a tray, often right before our subject’s eyes. It’s very similar to watching a Polaroid develop. We finally seal the tintype with a traditional sanderac and lavender varnish that not only protects the photo from the elements, it also smells great.


Sitting for a tintype portrait can be quite a dramatic and unique experience. Our subjects tend to have stoic expressions on their faces, like the Victorians, because the exposure time on the portrait runs 20-45 seconds, and it is difficult to try to hold anything except a neutral expression for that long.

Q: How can folks get ahold of you to schedule a portrait session?
The best way to get ahold of us is via email at We’re happy to answer questions, take on special projects, and set up private photoshoots for folks who’d like to get a portrait taken. You can see some of our images at

Q: What do you like best about having a studio at 57 Biscayne?
We love being so centrally located to the heart of the Seattle historical district. It really lends itself well to the oldee-timeyness of our creative process to be surrounded by bricks and mortar that are over a hundred years old. It’s also wonderful to see other passionate artists working on their respective projects when we come in to do a shoot.

Q: What's your favorite place to eat in Seattle (and why)?
Gastropod. It is an unassuming place in SODO with a tiny kitchen, run by two unpretentious blokes who marry unconventional flavors in their cuisine and handmade beer. It’s Northwest food in the best sense. We love to spend evenings there, after we’ve worked hard in the studio, chatting with the chef and brewer about food, music, and politics, and gorging ourselves on succulent Hama Hama oysters.

Q: What's your favorite place to shop in Seattle (and why)?
We don’t have a favorite place, per se, but we love digging through antique malls, junk shops, and finding the odd treasure on Craigslist. We collect taxidermy, old medical and dental paraphernalia, Victoriana, vintage shoes, and old things built to last.

To see Henrietta in action, come see her in December!
Where? 57 Biscayne, 110 Cherry St., 2nd Floor, Seattle
When? Thursday, December 5th from 6:00 – 9:00 pm AND Saturday, December 7th from 12:00 – 5:00 pm

One time, at Paper Camp...

How do I even start talking about Paper Camp? (I've been writing and re-writing this blog post for weeks trying to say it all the way I want to. But here goes.)

I went into the weekend with the intention of learning practical info about exhibiting at a trade show, but I came out having learned so much more than that. I learned a lot about industry standards and the in's and out's of the trade show experience. But (unexpectedly) I also walked away with a new confidence in who we are as a company and a new focus on long-term goals. Like the incredible Paper Camp speakers kept saying - a trade show isn't the destination, but just a step along the way.


A few of my BIG PICTURE take-aways:

When making decisions, always go back to your goals. Know what you want, and make sure each decision is moving you in that direction.

Know your brand! Everything your company does should tell your story - showing process and identity is important.

Be prepared for creative problem solving. Things will go wrong.

"I'm new" is not a valid excuse. When questions come up about your company, answer with pride. Don’t apologize for being new, just be professional and show them you're legit.

Whether you're looking for a store, a blog, a magazine, a collaboration or a vendor, finding the right fit is key. Quality relationships are everything.

STREAMLINE. Make choices and stand by them.

YOU make the rules for your business. Know industry standards, but then make the best decisions for your company.


It was genuinely the best group of people I've ever had the pleasure of talking shop with. The speakers were incredibly generous to share their knowledge and experience with us. I feel SO a part of the community. As a young small business owner, I've felt pretty isolated these past few years - making big decisions and figuring out priorities largely on my own. I've longed for other entrepreneurial ladies to run things by, or just to say, "I know, right?" - because sometimes that's just what you need. Not only did I have 2 incredible days of those conversations at Paper Camp, but the relationships have continued beyond the weekend! There have been lots of e-mails, social media connections, and even snail mail! Plus, the Tradeshow Bootcamp alumni Facebook page is an amazing, active place - lots of questions and answers and friendly faces! I can't rave enough. (The next Paper Camp is in Los Angeles in January, and you NEED to be there!)


My mind was so incredibly blown by the people and information packed into 2 days, I'm still processing it all. So far, I've made a couple huge to do lists with both big picture dreams and right away tasks. I've also made a budget, placed a ridiculous Uline order, ordered a giant calendar for planning, and briefed the team. But before I rush off and tackle my to do lists, I want to personally thank each of the amazing speakers. I'm working on snail mail thank you's as well, but I just want to publicly acknowledge the fact that these incredible women have chosen to make community important and have shared their time, talents, and trade secrets (!) to encourage other small businesses to flourish. If you've read this blog at all, you know I beat the community "drum" quite a bit - and this is community at its best.


Katie Hunt (Kelp Designs) Erika Firm (Delphine) Claudia Smith (Fig 2. Design) Rachael Hetzel (Pistachio Press) Carina Murray (Crow + Canary) Kimberley Yurkiewicz (Crow + Canary) Nole Garey (Oh So Beautiful Paper) Dani Antol & Heather Haynie (Rock, Paper, Scissors)

Photos by Mary Kate McKenna Photography, LLC for Tradeshow Bootcamp

Our CreativeMornings Talk

July's Seattle CreativeMornings was hosted at Maker's Space, a rad new coworking space in downtown Seattle, and featured a talk by us! (Crazy, right!?)

Sara presented a talk entitled: Analog Passion & Craft in an Economic Downturn: How I Became a Small Business Owner (and Why it Was a Good Idea). Video of the talk is available on Seattle Creative Mornings' Vimeo page, and the presentation slides are available on Speaker Deck. (We've also included the text of the talk below.)

CreativeMornings is a monthly breakfast lecture series for "creative types." Each event is free, includes a 20 minute talk & 20 minutes of Q&A, and brings together creative folks to share their work and experiences. CreativeMornings was started in New York City in 2009 by Tina Roth Eisenberg (SwissMiss), to create an "accessible, inspiring morning event for people to meet." We're big fans of CreativeMornings - we love attending the Seattle events, and enjoy impromptu CreativeMornings in the office, listening to the wealth of content available from all over the world!

These photos of the event are by the lovely and talented Jenny Linquist.


It was a huge honor to be asked to speak. We have by no means "arrived," and are learning more and more every day. Writing this talk was an awesome opportunity for the two of us to think and talk through our story and our experiences. We have a tendency in our busy life to get bogged down in minutia and forget to step back and look at where we've been. It was incredibly refreshing to get to share about what we love to do and what we've learned along the way. We have a heart for the creative folks in Seattle. We want to be honest about our journey and  the reality of owning a business in order to support, inspire, and be in community with more and more creative small businesses in our city.

Holy plaid, batman!

Holy plaid, batman!

The response to the talk was mind blowing. We received so many kind tweets, e-mails, and even a sweet blog post on With Design in Mind. We've been meeting with folks here in the studio since then - having great chats about business in design and working in community. It's opened a dialogue that we are so excited to be a part of. I (Sara), have never thought of myself as a businesswoman or a writer, but I've so enjoyed learning, writing and talking about these topics. I'm planning to continue to share our ideas and journey here on the blog. (The first thing will be to share how I'll learn the time management to be able to do that! Updates to come.)

Here's the text of the talk - for those of you who prefer reading to listening or watching my quirky self.

Analog Passion & Craft in an Economic Downturn: How I Became a Small Business Owner (and Why it Was a Good Idea)

I'm Sara McNally. My husband Brad and I are the founders of Constellation & Co., a small studio in Pioneer Square. We offer full service graphic design and letterpress printing for a variety of client projects, including: wedding invitations, branding and print collateral for small businesses, and a line of letterpress greeting cards and paper gifts that is available in stores in Seattle and nationwide. We use a mixture of modern and historical technologies to produce work that is sometimes sweet, sometimes sarcastic, but always inspired by handmade processes, vintage ephemera, and collaboration.

While in design school, I got to the section of Megg's History of Graphic Design about printing in the industrial revolution and found my calling. In my mind, they'd reached the pinnacle of craft, and I wasn't interested in moving forward. That dream of the 1890's thing totally hits home for me. Since then, I've become passionate about collecting, restoring, and preserving artifacts from the history of design and printing, and putting them back into use. I love that our cast iron printing presses have lasted for over one hundred years in a world that is constantly changing and reinventing itself. There is something so satisfying about this tangible method of printing and design - it's something we desire more and more in our digital world. I'm honored to be preserving and continuing a historic craft, and making a living doing it.

We founded Constellation & Co. on the idea that community is important in life and in business, and that business and life should work well together. It starts with us - we're a married couple, and we collaborate closely on each client project, even if it's just talking out ideas over dinner. We also work closely with our clients, getting to know them beyond their preferences about paper and pantone colors, so we can offer them a design that feels authentic. Our clients bring us into their lives at important moments like planning a wedding or launching a business, and we take our involvement in those times seriously. We have two employees that are dear friends. And (this is my favorite story) we even had an intern that went on to become a wedding invitation client. She then launched her own business, we did her branding and business cards, and now we're her client - she does all of our studio and product photography. She's responsible for the pretty pictures you're looking at today. Outside of our company, we work with a large network of creative people and small businesses whose skills and products enable us to tackle bigger projects and offer more exciting work to our customers. The big picture for us is, we can't do this alone.

Now that you know us a little better, I want to share with you how we got here. And I promise to be honest. I would really love for the design community to believe that i'm crazy rich and glamorous. But I believe that our genuine selves are a lot more interesting than the things we put on Pinterest. Although, I still love Pinterest. My career has been a series of reality checks, and this is an effort to present them honestly to you. And it might as well be a timeline, because, as you know, graphic designers love timelines.

In 2008 Brad and I visited Seattle with friends on our winter break from school. We fell in love with the city and spent the next couple years daydreaming about moving here. I even had a poster of the skyline in my dorm room.

While dating, Brad and I had a daydream about someday (after our crazy successful careers), starting a company together that focused on the handmade. We knew it was something we wanted to do… but in a really long time, after we'd filled a swimming pool with cash.

I loved my time in college and went to a great school. I learned a lot about type, workflow, taking critique - but I was naive and self-entitled. I fell into the "designers will save the world" mentality that's too common in school. I had big plans for myself after graduation. I was going to graduate with an impressive job, move somewhere exciting, and buy a VW bug. (Sidebar: I still don't own a bug.)

Spring break of our senior year, we spent a week interviewing at several Seattle companies, including Hornall Anderson, Methodologie, etc. etc. In every interview, we heard about layoffs, closed intern programs, and the economy. Absolutely no one was hiring junior designers. As graduation approached, our professors made grim predictions, family friends suggested we start practicing "welcome to Walmart," and "can I take your order?" All in all, there was a lot of sad head shaking.

We graduated, and although we didn't have jobs or a solid plan, Seattle was were we wanted to be. So we got in the car with our limited belongings and we drove here. And when we made it to Seattle, we took a lot of trips to IKEA.

And then we started applying for jobs. And we got married! (Because there is no one in the world I would rather walk through this crazy life with.) And we applied for more jobs. And the abstract concept of debt became a concrete concept. And the recession we'd been ignoring became the recession that was defining our adult life.

Along the way, we did a lot of jobs. We worked as much as we could, wherever we could. Some of the jobs were great - we both spent time working freelance for some fantastic people. But a lot of the jobs were terrible - I spent a week as a receptionist, I worked retail, and I spent several months with an ad agency, taking photoshop files the "ad guy" did and reproducing them in illustrator for print. And I did that 12-14 hours a day. Often with no food breaks.

Right around this time, I had a realization. Hating my job isn't working for me. I was absolutely miserable. We paid way too much for school for me to already hate my career. Around this time, Brad started a contract at Microsoft, which was awesome, because my realization was great for my personal satisfaction, but terrible for paying the bills. But once I realized that I was okay being broke doing something I love, I knew that I had nothing to lose. I quit my terrible job, took an intro to letterpress class at the School of Visual Concepts, and sent a lot of "please let me work for you for free" e-mails to the letterpress community in Seattle. Thankfully, my e-mail bombs worked, and I spent a year apprenticing with Rebecca Mullins, the owner of Myrtle Alley Press in West Seattle. I got really hands on, spent a lot of time doing "pay your dues" type projects around the shop, and eventually got to learn the finer points of letterpress printing. And I absolutely loved it.

Towards the end of my year apprenticeship, Brad and I started taking clients, producing products of our own, and launched our website. Around this time, I read a lot of articles on the appropriate way to start a business. I realized quickly that the articles were not written for me. I was 23, broke, and didn't know the first thing about starting a business. I was a very unlikely candidate for being an "entrepreneur." I sat at my computer for days trying to write a business plan. It was really daunting. Maybe you've been there and given up. (I really wanted to.) But here's the good news: at this phase, your business plan is more like writing on toilet paper than carving a stone tablet. You have to get started before you'll know what you want to do, what you're good at, and what you can get people to pay you to do. Our website launched with copy that said something like, "Dear client, if you give us money, we'll do whatever you ask." As we took on more client work and got to know our business better, it became clear what our specialties were, and which kinds of jobs we'd never take again. If you don't get started, you can't even learn from your mistakes. You have to get started.

So we got started. We moved into a tiny corner of the 619 Western arts building, and bought our first full size press.

Before I continue, let me show you a photo of our first printing press. It was a glorious mess. The press was in pieces, covered in rust, and had been dropped off a truck. But I took one look at this press, and I said: I'LL TAKE IT.


I saw the potential in this press, and I wanted to be the one to save it. So we paid the lady, and put it on the truck. It took us well into the night to actually get it into the building. Moving a printing press is the most humbling thing i've ever done. And it's just as humbling every time I do it. I like to think of myself as an island. I want to do things by myself, take responsibility, and work as hard as I can to make them happen. Moving this press the first time forced me to ask others for help and depend on them to get it done. I was completely powerless to move this press on my own. It's something I fought tooth and nail. But that lesson has been more and more important as our business has grown.

Let me take a moment and admit that this whole thing sounds crazy. We purchase, restore, name, and operate 100+ year old machinery that is incredibly heavy, a nightmare to move, and difficult to repair.

If I didn’t passionately love this nonsense, I would be crazy to do it. Nothing about letterpress is glamourous. It's a greasy, inky, sweaty, exhausting business. And I love it.I've found, that in small business, love is mandatory.

When we finally got the press into our studio, I spent upwards of 40 hours with WD40 and wire brushes, scouring untold years of rust, dirt, grime, and nonsense off of the press. But we put in the time and elbow grease, and were printing our first client job in the new space with our new press by the end of the month. It took us 30 days from decision to printing.


That January was really stressful. We had overhead for the first time, and after moving the press, I felt the weight of our decision all too clearly. I had a lot of "WHAT HAVE I DONE" moments. Those first few days, I felt like I was swimming in the ocean with this printing press tied to my ankles. Getting into small business is difficult. I won't belittle that. The "just get started" enthusiasm is not enough on it's own to get you through the "we're going to go bankrupt" fears. You have to love what you're doing. Love is mandatory.

Here are some highlights from what we learned that first year:

We learned to start with what we could handle. We knew that at $325 per month, we could afford our overhead even if we never got a client job. That price meant we were at the top floor of a questionably safe building, in a space that had been previously occupied by an adult film studio, but we could afford it. We had to manage our expectations for that space - It wasn't perfect, but we were doing what we loved, and that had to be enough.

We learned to make our space home. It was tiny and windowless, but we treated it with love. You have to want to be in the place where you work. You'll spend the majority of your life there. Make it a place you want to be, and your clients will want to be there too. We packed dozens of people into the space on art walk nights, and over the months, taught hundreds of people about the history of printing. It was amazing.

We also learned that we have freedom to produce quickly and often. We designed and printed most of our products for the first time in this tiny space. We would get an idea, talk it out, sketch it out, and then produce it. We bought a printing press so that we could produce our ideas quickly and get them out into the world. We try to avoid putting our ideas into a folder on our desktop labeled "things i'll get around to." It's been my experience that those just don't get done. We have the technology to keep the time from idea to release short and sweet. It's been important for us to have the machinery, materials, and strategy in place to jump on good ideas. The things we make are ephemera. They're made to send, enjoy, and keep or recycle. They aren't forever. Nothing we create is forever. So why all the pressure? Create and release your ideas into the world. You won't know how they'll be received until you send them out. Some ideas will fail. Some will succeed. Some things will surprise you! And you'll have that information to revise the idea for the next iteration.

And lastly, we learned to expect change, because it's always coming. After 8 months in the 619 building, we were notified it was unsafe, and given 2 months to find a new space. That was a rough day. There was a lot of yelling. But as we talked it through, we realized that this was great timing. We'd grown a ton in those 8 months. Our business had really taken hold. We'd had our first intern, and were taking on our second. We needed more room, and we knew a lot more about our business than when we'd started. Constellation had gone from a question mark to something we knew intimately. And this was a great opportunity to find a new space to fit our growing business.

So, within a year of buying our press and moving into our first studio, we were doubling our square footage and moving into in a building with other artists and small business owners.

We love our studio. It's been a joy to work in, and our clients have loved coming into it! We used to meet a lot of clients in coffee shops for their convenience, but now we only meet with folks in the studio - it does a better job at selling our work than we do! And in very tangible ways, it feels like home. We share events, meals, conversations, and collaborations in this space. And we work. A lot.

In the Spring of this year, we brought on two part time employees. The work had gotten too heavy for me to tackle on my own. And the "weight" of the work is lighter when distributed. This thing is bigger than me. I've learned that not only do I need help, but I must accept help, and even more importantly - ask for help. For awhile, fear of failure kept me from bringing people on. It's scary being responsible for other people. But bringing in fresh eyes, time, and enthusiasm has allowed me to breathe, to invest my time in parts of the business that are otherwise neglected, and I get to share what i've learned with others. I'm so thankful for the ladies that support me on a daily basis. I sleep better at night when I know I have help, and my life is sweeter having more people to share what I love with.

We are continuing to grow - we've taken on more space in the collective, and brought in a second press. There are a lot of growing pains, but we're learning a ton.

So, that catches us up to the present day. When I sat down to write this talk, I started out with a list of questions. These are questions that I've asked myself these past 3 years, and continue to ask myself as we move forward as a business:

Why am I doing this?

I work a lot, and there are certainly days that I ask this question in frustration. But I always come back around to this: I love that my job is a way to build relationships. We work with creative people, clients, and other small businesses. I love getting to know these people. I love that I get to collaborate with my husband, and I love that someday, we'll have print shop kids. I continue to do this because I love to do it, and I love the people it's brought into my life. On the days when i'm overworked, underpaid, and exhausted, it's these people that keep me pressing on.

Where am I? What is specifically needed and desired in my city? I love this city, and it's an honor to be a part of what's happening here. I have to continually remind myself to get out of the studio and be in the city. It's easy to isolate, but it's so important to be aware of what's happening around us.

Who are my clients?

What do they value and what are they looking for? It has been so important to get to know my clients, not as a demographic, but as individuals. And working for clients has been a continually humbling experience. I'm constantly learning to put their joy above my pride. Their happiness is more important than my idea of good design.

But that leads me to: How can I educate my clients?

It's my responsibility to teach my clients what good design is, so that they know it when they see it! And in addition to my clients, how can I educate the public about the history of what we do? Education is a big part of preserving this historic craft, and we're glad to do it. We've done several tours with college classes and homeschool students, and bring people into the studio during open house nights to give them demonstrations of how printing works. And next month we'll be launching a monthly one day workshop for graphic designers on how to design and prepare files for letterpress printing.

Who are my peers? How can I collaborate with them? We're in the process of launching a large scale collaborative project with 26 designers, who are each tackling a letter of the alphabet and producing an art piece with the concept of Cosmic Sans - a space and/or sci-fi related interpretation of comic sans. It's really nerdy. But how better to engage 26 of our peers and create something together? We're excited.

So, back to the title of the talk. What does this have to do with the recession? What recession? My whole career has existed in the recession. I love what I do, and not getting a job forced me to pursue it. In many ways, this recession is the best thing that could have happened to me. These past three years, we've been hard at work, building something. I haven't taken away a large paycheck, (or often any paycheck) - but If I could go back and pick any of my "dream jobs" from college, I wouldn't. I LOVE my job, and I'm blessed to do it. We've built something that is growing, I can't wait to see what's in store for the several years.