By Anna Jane Grossman

accompanying slideshow of the History of Typewriter Art here.

My 2010 new year’s resolution was to give up emoticons. As a professional writer, I decided that I was obliged to figure out ways of expressing myself that didn’t rely on using punctuation to approximate a smile or a heart.

For those uninitiated in this area, emoticons are mini-drawings made using numbers, letters, and punctuation. It’s a communication method that is not without precedent. In the 1980s and ’90s, the then small online world was decorated with ASCII art—images “drawn” using successive lines of punctuation. Indeed, some of the earliest pornography on the internet was made using these methods, and there are still pockets of the Internet where people are creating images, either freehand or using online programs, that will convert your picture into a simulacra mosaic of keyboard symbols.The earliest remaining example of typed art dates back to 1898. In the mid-1900s, typists sometimes learned to take dictation by transcribing long series of orally spoken directions ("Comma! Comma! Dollar sign!") that, when typed accurately, would create an image. Some artists took this to the next level, overlapping keys on the typewriter in order to create shading and almost photographic effects.

Poets have been particularly drawn to conveying ideas and creating images using text—at it’s most fundamental, isn’t that what all writing is trying to do? In 1975, Alan Riddell, an Australian poet and printmaker, compiled some of the best examples of these kinds of images in his book Typewriter Art. 

Alas, it’s a school that no longer has many students, purely thanks to the fact that few young people have any experience addressing an envelope on a typewriter, let alone using it as a tool for artistic expression. Perhaps that is why 27-year-old London-based artist Keira Rathbone attracts so much attention when she sits on street corners with her manual typewriter, her art flying out of the machine. 

I caught up with her on the other side of the ocean, conveying my questions via electronic mail. 

I first experienced the joys of typewriters as an infant. This is when my mother and grandmother each owned a typewriter—they sat in prime positions in their homes and were used purely for writing letters and suchlike. I was allowed to press the keys, and I loved the sound they made as they struck the paper, as if by magic instantly leaving a neat, indelible mark on the page.

I bought an orange Silver Reed 100 typewriter at a charity shop for £5 in 2002. I just thought it was beautiful object. I didn’t use it at all. But the following year I brought it with me to University campus, thinking that I’d find a use for it. And at that point I realized that for me, the most natural thing I could do with a typewriter was to use it to draw.

I enjoyed the immediateness of the mark on the page and how I became responsible for the dark/lightness of the mark depending on how hard I hit the key. I also loved the unmistakable “hallmarks” of the typewriter and the idea of using a typewriter for a purpose for which it was not originally intended.

ReadyMade: Tell me about your process. Do you draw out your image first?
Keira Rathbone: I've spent countless hours experimenting and honing my skills as a typewriter artist. I first began by tapping the keys in many different ways, and observing where the key hit the paper, the indentation it made and how much pressure I need to exert on them to cause light or dark shadings. Once I mastered this, I focused on portraying a subject in a recognizable way. I started by typing an eye, and observed how important the shape and detail was. Every spaced out mark gave form and composition to my work. I quickly moved on to typing more ambitious images and scale, and also using more letters, overlapping them to give the work more depth and varying intensity.

Around the same time I started experimenting with different techniques, one where I would draw in parts of the image (traced from a photograph, usually portraits) and then type it in, resulting in images that looked like a strange print. I decided to call it my “Very Slow Printer” technique. I liked this result, but gradually turned more to my freehand or “Freetype” typing, where I simply put the paper into the typewriter and typed, without any guidelines. I prefer this method as it allows me to create images that reflect my own drawing style and character.

What kind of reactions do you get when you show your work?
As a performance artist, my process of work occasionally involves me going out and about on a bus, train, and bicycle of walking, to see and collect images from life. So there is a performance/live art element that has evolved over the years, from simply taking my typewriter out with me to type, to dressing in vintage styles and creating a mobile studio-cum-office installation in which to type. The reaction from passersby from all walks of life is one of intrigue and fascination whilst they establish what it is I'm doing. I therefore have a crucial interaction with my audience that I find valuable.

Are you familiar at all with the history of typewriter art?
There were a few examples on the internet an artist named Paul Smith and a handful of others, but none of my contemporaries were doing it. On discovering this, I became excited and stimulated me into action, knowing what I had stumbled on—by chance—was something truly imaginative.

How long does an image usually take you to make?
My images vary in completion time. As with all artists, I can sometimes capture the essence of the matter in few minutes (the more sparsely-typed pieces); other times, I may spend countless hours working on a piece over several weeks, or months (the more densely-typed, larger scale pieces) depending on what frame of mind I am in and the end result I am trying to achieve with it. As with any painting or drawing or other creative work, it knows when it's finished.

Do you every try to use the computer to make similar pieces?
I wouldn't use a computer to create typewriter art. I'm a purist in that respect and actually believe that it is no longer typewriter art if it has not been produced using a typewriter. Even if I did consider using a computer to create similar work, it would yield completely different results in aesthetics, each print of which would no longer be individual (well, printed images are actually all unique, but in a more subtle way), as the marks on the page are not indented into the paper with ink.

Are there any ways in which you think younger generations, like yours, are missing out by not using typewriters? 
I think younger generations must be kept informed on the history of where today's computers have eclipsed what was once considered a modern writing tool. And by not having a typewriter visibly around at schools and museums when they grow up, I feel they will miss out, hence I’m more than happy to flag up the past technological writing tools via my art.

Recently I've taken to typing live at music, literary, art festivals, and celebrity and charity gala dinner parties, or just in public parks or city pavements. The fascination of onlookers still remains, and they invariably ask all the questions I probably did when I first saw a typewriters as a child. It has now occurred to me that I’m championing history while at the same time entertaining, and in a way that children and adults can appreciate. The past and the present merge as one, and I continue to perfect my art.

Watch an accompanying slideshow history of typewriter art here.

[image of Keira Rathbone by Deborah Paul]

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