Print Profile: Jeff Burch - The Spring Press
Posted by Chris Barton on 14th February 2010
In independent publishing simplicity is often a by-product of financial neccessity. After all, it's hard to embellish things without any money. However, for Jeff Burch, writer, photographer, graphic designer, musician and founder of The Spring Press simplicity is a conscious decision. His two zines with Rachael Cassells and Max Doyle and hardcover publication with Henry Roy are all executed perfectly in their respective formats. Earlier this year, Jeff and I exchanged emails to discuss the relative merits of the zine versus the artist book and to reminisce about an Autumn afternoon in Aoyama when this simplicity could not only be seen in the object but also felt by its admirers.
Chris Barton: The last time we saw each other was over a year ago in Tokyo and you were launching Henry Roy's book Out of the Blue at Utrecht alongside volume 8 of Nakako Hayashi's Here & There. It was a wonderful afternoon, and a scene that I quite often play over in my mind as an example of how book launches should be. As an Australian-based publisher how did launching the book in Tokyo come about?
Jeff Burch: In Japan my books are distributed through Utrecht, who own NowIdea in Aoyama where we had the launch. In the past I have written for Nakako's magazine and she was wanting to have an event for her new issue and may have actually proposed doing it with me to Hiroshi [who owns Utrecht]. So Hiroshi asked me, and Nakako and I did the launch together. So I guess it came around just by taking interest in other people's bedroom projects, somehow becoming involved and forming relationships across oceans through the things we are making.
It was the first time I had been to Tokyo and it was such a nice way to begin the next few weeks there. How incredible was the marshmallow toaster? A couple good friends of mine were there at the time too, you guys were over, finally meeting Nakako, it was really amazing. If there wasn't the language barrier to contend with I think I would move there in a second.
CB: The marshmallow toaster was amazing… I'm particularly interested in the idea of forming relationships across oceans, as you say, and the role of publications in forming friendships and sometimes evolving into working relationships. It's something we talked about quite often with WON magazine and that was how an aesthetic is often tied with an ideological approach. It's like you can see someone else's work — either as artist or publisher — and (as naive as it may sound) know that you will be friends. How have you met or approached the artists that you have worked with with The Spring Press?
JB: Yeah I guess what you're saying can be quite true, I had never really thought about that before. The relationship with each artist I've worked with has been different depending on where they live. Max [Doyle] was one of the first people I met when I moved to Sydney. I was a big fan of his magazine doingbird when I lived in New Zealand. I called him incessantly once I got here as I wanted to be involved in it somehow. We met and I helped out there, wrapping tear-sheets for their photographers. We became friends and I did some writing for doingbird, we did a few projects together, started making music together etc. One day I just kind of asked him if he wanted to do an edition for this thing I wanted to start and he was really into the idea, he suggested I get in touch with Rachael Cassells about doing one too. She was living in Queensland at the time so we just kind of talked about it over the phone, she pitched a few ideas and we went from there.
With most of the artists I am dealing with living overseas it's a little different. I just kind of approach people whose work I love, we just kind of speak on the phone and write back and fourth until something comes out the other end. It is kind of a strange way to do things I guess – working with people you have never really met face to face, but like you say it's almost a given that you get on well and you become friends. There are a lot of people producing music, books, magazines, photographs, records and I think if you find something amongst all of that that resonates with you, especially if it's esoteric, it's important that you know the people producing it, communicate your interest to them if you can. It could be hard making stuff, see it all sitting around in store rooms (as it does) and not having it generate any dialogue.
CB: Yes, I think this dialogue is one of, if not the sole incentives to publish independently. It's interesting because this dialogue between artist and publisher could exist through just making one copy of something yet we print 200, 500, 1000 or even more copies of something is in the hope that other people out there somehow can join in the conversation but it seems that it takes an extremely long time to break the ice! How do approach finding an audience for your publications and how different has it been between the zines with Max and Rachael to Henry Roy's hardcover?
JB: You know, zines had a different function in the 90's. No one had the internet then so it was one of the only ways to find out about international bands, for a lot of people it was the only way to have their writing or comics read, their photography seen. A friend of mine Kerry Ann Lee used to run a mail order zine distro in Wellington called Red Letter. She imported zines from all over the world and every time we stayed at her house with my old band we used to raid her spare room which was full of them. The culture of zines has changed a lot since then and has become something a little more contrived as the ways information is exchanged and distributed has shifted with the internet. It's been interesting to see.
The initial ideas I had for the projects with Max and Rachael was something a lot simpler; based more on that photocopied punk rock fanzine I was just talking about. But somehow I ended up with a higher production level to align the outcome with the calibre of the work (you can't really photocopy a Rachael Cassells image). I never thought too much about how I would actually get them in peoples hands, which was a bit of an oversight, really. But there is a market for that kind of thing, but the culture of it is not something that interests me now that its kind of been hijacked. The traditional hardcover book always appealed to me a lot more, but I never thought I would be in a position to afford to publish one. It was so rewarding doing a project of that scale. The hardcover format has been a lot easier to distribute because it's one that consumers are used to seeing and owning. Finding an audience isn't such an issue when major book retailers are taking it and the general public have access to it.
CB: I was playing too much sport in the 90s so I can't claim to have witnessed this zine evolution first hand so I'm interested to know what you mean by hijacked, and who is doing the hijacking?
JB: Firstly, I probably shouldn't talk of the 90's as if it was THE era for them, the fanzine has been around since the 60s and 70s. I probably also shouldn't say that the format has been hijacked, it's just been adopted and re-invented somewhat. When I said hi-jacked I guess I was referring to the current trend informed by street culture. Is there a name for that sort of thing?
The kind of art I most enjoy is art you can get completely immersed in, that gives you room to fall into it if you want to. I feel the format [of zines] is somewhat limited. When things like photography are presented it often doesn't come close to creating that feeling. When an art zine is the final outcome of a long creative process I think that it should give you a lot more than an artist catalog might.
I think books can create a feeling with a lot more ease, the format allows for so much more freedom. A narrative and a mood can be created gradually, you can create dynamics and shifts, you can be quite playful – there are a lot more possibilities. We literally worked for months on the structure of Out of the Blue though; searching for the things we wanted to convey. Henry said to me that he thinks photography should be connected to music, writing, cinema, dance. I feel as though in the book those ideas are quite prominent. And those ideas are open ideas I think, you can give yourself over to them as much or as little as you like.
CB: That's a wonderful sentiment. Fluidity in both photography and format but also fluidity in life! It's interesting because as well as publishing your own creative pursuits include design, photography, writing, and playing in your band Songs... How much interconnection is their between your various creative outputs and do they provide a chance to say different things, or a way of communicating similar ideas in different ways?
JB: Communicating similar ideas in different ways for sure! I guess at the core of it I am drawn to the uncomplicated; I like the idea of creating beautiful things without interfering a lot. Maybe it's a bit conservative but I am not really interested in novelty or gimmickry. Whether it's a pop song that is just a pop song or a tone that is just a tone, the right words that simplify a message or clothes that just do what they should, photographic images that show things as they exist or design that is about its function. I think you can make great things with considered, simple ideas.
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