Within a dark living room in Eden, the only light filtering through lace curtains, lives a gentleman who is inking the future of the historic printing press, so that it isn't discarded but rather utilised for generations to come.
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"They are not shelves or drawers, they are type cases, and hence the expression upper and lower case," the steely voice of printing historian Richard Jermyn said.
Upper and lower cases today are recognised as large and small letters on a keyboard, but the term originates from where typesetting equipment was stored within wooden cases, as smaller letters were kept in the lower levels for ease of access.
The letters, thousands of them, are not in envelopes, they haven't even been printed onto paper stock thus far, since these letters are metal embossed alphabet stamps.
Richard is a collector of all things written history, from the wooden press to the iron hand press.
It is evident by the books that filled his shelving, the beautifully preserved and framed prints from the centuries earlier, and by the accumulation of printing press artefacts squeezed into his small living and dining room.
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"This is about one hundredth of what I have," he said, having recently donated a large portion of his collection to the Penrith Museum of Printing.
Nestled on one side of the cases that were filled with those various metal alphabets, a tarnished charcoal-coloured 1871 Hopkinson and Cope printing press lay await prepared for a single hand crank that would allow it to be used for its intended purpose, rather than just a beautiful museum piece.
"This is a very small capsule of what a printing press office would have looked like in the 19th century," Richard said.
While studying architecture at the University of NSW in 1974, Richard found himself sitting in the students union with a friend talking about a range of topics.
"And one of us said, 'What about setting up a printing press at the university for students to use?' So we said, 'Yeah, that's a good idea. How would we go about that?' And we were completely ignorant," Richard remembered.
After finding a complete printing shop for sale in a newspaper, 200 metres from the University, the university purchased it, and Richard helped to install the "bloody great monster".
Richard's future was inked in print, and his love for understanding, collecting, and ultimately protecting the history of printing was stamped.
After carefully removing a small amount of ink from a jar with a palette knife, Richard began using a roller over a cold metal slab, spreading an even layer ready for covering the raised typeface secured for printing.
Vintage matte paperstock was placed into a paper holder which hinged on to the text, before being rolled underneath the platen which would press downwards.
With the pull of a lever, an invitation was produced.
"There's no reason this [printing press] shouldn't last another thousand years."