The Renaissance of Making: Craft as a Cultural Attitude

We arrive hungry, after hours on the road. By the time we reach the city, the rain has just stopped. tipoRenesansa sits right on the riverbank, in the heart of Ljubljana. As soon as we step inside, it’s clear what this place is all about: at the front, a small shop with hand-printed posters, books, and cards invites browsing, while at the back, type cases, sheets of paper, and tools are stacked to the ceiling. A faint scent of paint and wood hangs in the air. Everything feels cosy and welcoming. We cook pasta with tomatoes, aubergines, and capers, then sit down at the colourful table in the print workshop. Here, you can truly arrive.

Meeting Marko Drpić feels like encountering someone who lives many lives. Calligrapher, letter carver, librarian, printer – and a restless explorer of meaning and form. He discovered his passion for letterpress printing while studying Germanic linguistics. “I’ve always been fascinated by letters,” Marko laughs. “While reading all those old texts, I realized that alongside the content, I was equally drawn to the letters themselves – to their shapes, their variety, their character.”

Marko first came into contact with calligraphy and stone carving in Belgium. “A mentorship with Kristofel Boudens ^↘ 1 Kristoffel Boudens is a well-known type sculptor, calligrapher and stonemason from Bruges, Belgium. gave me a perspective I never could have imagined.” Fascinated by the world of letters, Marko began systematically collecting old printing equipment and restoring it step by step. What started as a personal passion grew into a cultural mission in 2010, when Ljubljana was named World Book Capital. ^↘ 2 With this title, UNESCO honours a city's special commitment to literature, reading and book culture initiatives Today, his studio is known far beyond the city limits: it attracts not only school classes, students, and visitors from Ljubljana, but also people from all over the world.

In his enthusiasm for letterpress printing, he is not alone – an increasing number of movements and workshops are bringing the craft of typography to life. As a member of Letterpress Workers ^↘ 3 Letterpress Workers is a short-term residency programme organised by Officina Tipografica Novepunti since 2012, in which letterpress practitioners network with each other , Marko regularly exchanges ideas with others. Yet very few still produce printing letters from wood using traditional methods. Marko is one of them. He has meticulously built his knowledge of wood type production through research, conversations, and countless experiments. His motivation grew from a practical necessity: old type cases with wooden letters are rarely complete, and the letters wear out quickly with frequent use. “I looked for ways to replace them. At first, this took me on many travels, especially to the USA, where there is a vibrant culture of printing with wood type,” he explains. ^↘ 4 Between the late 19th century and the mid-20th century, American letterpress and poster culture experienced its heyday, when advertising and political campaigns made extensive use of large-format prints.

Marko proudly leads me into an adjoining room and points toward his wood supply. His work on new letters begins with whole tree discs and a lengthy drying process. For production, he requires end-grain wood in sizes that are otherwise almost impossible to find – which is why he starts with whole tree discs. Once dried, the wood is carefully sanded to the standard typographic height. ^↘ 5 In letterpress printing, the typographic height refers to the physical height of the type cone, including the printing face. In Central Europe, it is 23.56 mm, which is the standardised measurement that enables precise coordination of lead typesetting material, wooden types and printing machines. Other printing regions of the world use slightly different typographic heights, which makes it difficult to combine their materials directly. “I work within a tolerance range of 0.002 millimetres,” Marko comments casually. Only then is the wood ready for woodcut printing.

“Recutting letters is excellent visual training – and that goes for students too,” First, the existing alphabet is printed and digitised, after which any missing letter forms are derived from the form logic of the entire font family. The digital vector data is then used to create a matrix that serves as a mechanical template. Using his pantograph

Marko traces the contour of the original form. At the end of the pantograph sits a small wood router that precisely removes material from the fresh wood. Its proportionally controlled guide allows wooden forms to be scaled or duplicated, which was particularly useful in the production of wooden letters for posters in the 19th and early 20th centuries. For the smallest interior spaces and tapering shapes, however, handwork is once again required.

One might think it would be easier and faster to mill or laser-cut the letters digitally. But for Marko, that is out of the question. “The translation of movement, gesture, and arm is crucial,” he explains. This approach turns the craft into a dialogue between body and material. In a time when so much feels abstract and detached from any physical experience, Marko’s work reflects an inner attitude that seeks connectedness and creates meaning.

Over the years, he has perfected his process, and word of his skill and precision has spread, earning him enquiries from all over the world. The city authorities, too, have come to recognize the value of this cultural heritage: today tipoRenesansa holds the status of a protected institution in Ljubljana. Here, craftsmanship is not merely the repetition of old techniques – it is a conscious commitment to making.

As I step outside and breathe in the fresh evening air, a luminous shimmer settles over the river. The stories that Marko carries forward in this way continue to resonate within me for a long time. Thank you for this shared journey.