Click, Click, Swish, Click, Click

I’m researching an artist called Giacomo Patri.

When the school he worked for was shut down by McCarthyism for being closely associated with the labour movement, he turned to independent creative practice.

Patri took to crafting and printing a graphic memoir of linocuts at home.

In the foreword to a 2016 commercial reprint, his sons remember the presence of a printing press in their home:

The whole process produced a memorable, rhythmic, ‘click, click, swish, click, click,’ against the background of the whirling sound of the electric motor and the smell of fresh printer’s ink throughout the house.

Isn’t this a lovely recollection? It reminds me that there is, as Tove Jansson put it, a right kind of work.