Yesterday was definitely more adventure than I was expecting while at this residency. I suppose I should have been a good, hard-working artist and stayed at the print shop making prints, but I volunteered to go with the the gang to pick up "a little type from the preacher". This preacher had originally lived in Gordo many many years ago, where he bought the print shop from a local printer, and proceeded to use it for printing religious tracts to hand out, and to print posters for his revivals. Like most people, he's discovered digital printing and no longer has any use for the letterpress printing supplies in his barn, so invited Glen House to come by and pick it up, gratis.
His instructions for finding his warehouse was simple enough: drive to Forkland (where he now lives), take a right, go about 3 miles and you'll see the gate on the left. Needless to say, it wasn't that simple and we ended up driving down a slew of county roads and gravel driveways, entering every gate that was left open. Along the way we saw some beautiful old abandoned houses and churches, a shrimp farm, a catfish processing plant, and a shiny new oil rig. Even though I knew I was in capable hands, while we were driving around lost in the woods I got little nervous and thought I heard a couple of dueling banjos off in the distance. Such a relief to finally find the Preacher's Warehouse.
One press and five type cabinets later, we were on our way back to Gordo. This is what Kathy called the "Clampett Truck."
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