I am convinced that, whilst language appropriate to the subject and level does exist, complexity does not require complicated words. With that in mind, I will probably explain it in much the same way as I would to an adult.

I am a poster designer and letterpress printer. I mainly design purely typographic posters and then produce them myself using letterpress printing presses from the 1960s. Letterpress printing presses operate on the principle of relief printing – similar to a potato stamp. A physical printing plate is therefore created for each poster design; for multi-coloured posters, one per colour.

These printing plates may consist of lead type, wooden letters, hand-carved, etched or laser-cut linocuts, as well as experimental materials. Each material has its own printing quality and leaves a visible mark on the final result. Depending on the design, I select tools and materials that suit the content of the poster.

A poster for a punk concert should look raw, loud, dark and chaotic – these characteristics are incorporated right from the start when creating the printing plate, which is produced using rough, coarse materials. A Sunday matinee, on the other hand, calls for a different visual style, and so different materials are considered for the printing plate.

Some of my posters are produced in up to 20 printing passes and in runs of up to 1,000 copies, all of which are printed by hand. Each sheet is passed through the press several times and dried in between. These are a great many slow and labour-intensive processes that, taken together, result in a finished poster.

My studio, located on a factory floor in Näfels, covers around 450 m² and houses some 40 tonnes of old printing presses, typefaces, and analogue and digital tools. I live in Zurich and commute to Näfels every day during the week. The workshop has grown since 2009 and has been continuously expanded.
On the one hand, I am glad that my workspace is now almost perfectly suited to my needs: I have exactly the tools my practice requires, and everything is tailored to my workflows.
On the other hand, I sometimes envy my design colleagues when they complain about having to move a heavy bookcase or a photocopier during an office relocation. Forty tonnes are not exactly easy to move. Consequently, I feel very attached to this place.

I had always thought that success – however one might define it in a creative profession – was, in some way, linked to financial success. Today, I am a bit disillusioned on this point and believe that it is entirely possible to be successful in a creative profession whilst the financial struggle remains constant and very real. At the same time, that very fact can sometimes act as a driving force. So I do not want to complain and I will carry on – in any case.