IT'S ALWAYS SUNNY IN THE MISSION DISTRICT (PART ONE)

When I get really nervous, I start to cough like a two-pack-a-day smoker, hacking up her lungs. It’s a disgusting symphony of phlegm that never fails to show up when I’m anxious and sweaty.

And it didn’t fail me this time around. After the better half of was an idyllic, ennui stricken and depressingly unemployed summer, I finally assured myself of my ladyballs and pushed my comfort zone to its furthest radius.

Let it be said that I am a pretty gregarious person, a rambler whose experience goes back to playground days and popsicles. Despite that fact, I can tend to be rather shy, much to the shock and confusion of those who love me, in new situations with new people.

So imagine the death rattle when, almost two months ago, I knocked on the Paul Mullowney’s printshop door.I probably shit myself all the way through the week until the actual visit. I had contacted Mr. M after reading a brief and unsatisfying article on he and his shop in 7X7 magazine. I mustered up enough courage to email him and request an interview, and the day had finally come.

After an onslaught of no left turn zones and my own untrustworthy navigation skills, Jaynee and I managed to reach his studio en-progress. Tucked in a quiet but kinetic residential neighborhood, Mullowney’s Studio is camouflagued. Passersby cannot even begin to fathom the magic going on behind the ominous but intriguing garage door.

Having not been in a studio for over two months, walking into Paul’s shop was like some weird jamais vu—so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. The fresh, white-walled space is abuzz with the chatter and movement one can only expect from a printshop. A letterpress station greets you at the door, it’s fodder hanging like trophies behind. I am later to discover that one of Paul’s grandfather’s own prints hangs proudly among them. Paul and his printers are busy at the ink station, wiping steel-faced plates pristine for a large publishing project done by tattoo artists at Smith Street Tattoo in New York. The press, however, takes center stage in the room, beckoning Paul and his crew.

“Pardon the noise, there’s demo going on upstairs,” Mullowney says, as loud BOOMS and BANGS could be heard overhead. The symphony is punctuated by a waterfull of sawdust and other debris—right on top of the freshly inked plates. The smart team was quick to find a solution (moving the versatile home-made hot plates), and as Paul resumed wiping, we proceeded.

Their ingenius hot plates

Thankfully the coughing had subsided. But the ebb and flow of nervousness in my gut did not. You got this. You got this. Don’t be a chicken shit.

I tried not to let Paul and his group know how on edge I was, but the wavering I could hear in my own voice probably told otherwise.  Mullowney began telling me about the progression of his newborn shop, an infant at nine months, but bustling with the efficiency of an adult magnate.

With a few nods of encouragement from Jaynee, I questioned Paul about his history, and how he had managed to land himself in the Bay Area. His timeline is one unique, which begins with a family tree of printmakers. His grandfather was a lithographer whose son after him was a newspaper publisher. The Mullowney Printing name is a legacy that dates back to his grandfathers printing press that operated in the early 1900’s and into the twenties.

From this influence and his own long time interest in graphic art, Mullowney, eventually went on to becoming a master printer at the acclaimed San Francisco printshop, Crown Point Press. Now in his own shop, Mullowney bridges that gap between old and new. Paul and his team employ interesting techniques like traditional Japanese scroll-mounting methods, and the influx of young, professional interns and printers give his shop a vibrant and dynamic feel. 

“I work with a lot of young people really on fire about printmaking. They understand that it’s important to be able to have technique and craft in your life and do it well. And to be in touch with a fifteenth century technique, that’s enough for me.”

Eventually the interview faded off in favor of just getting to watch Paul and his team work. It seems all so familiar-setting the resgistration for the plate, running it through the press- yet still so different. The reality of sending someone else’s work through a press was  one I had never thought of for myself. The extra care and consideration you take to ensure that your client has the best possible product. Caring for the piece as if it was your own.

I left Paul’s shop intrigued and with the promise of a return. Looking back I was probably a pretty shitty interviewer. But the visit had opened my eyes to some interesting things to consider about the path I’ve chosen for myself. Being a printmaker is about being apart of a community of open communicators, about finding those people Mullowney was talking about, those people on fire about the same thing I was on fire about. People who are willing to endure a babbling, nervous student with stars in her eyes, prodding into their business because it interests her.

Oh this isn’t over. I went back for more. That’ll come soon. The writers block is lifting. Thanks to Paul Mullowney and his printers, they’re awesome folks!