Because we can’t do anything around here without printing something, we decided to make commemorative letterpress-printed posters for the event. A few will be posted around the neighborhood to drum up traffic for the sale, and each baker who donates baked goods is receiving a signed and numbered poster as well. If there are any left over, we’ll be selling them at the bake sale to raise additional funds for the cause. These posters measure 10×18 inches and were printed in pink and chocolate inks, using antique wood type and our Vandercook proof press.

Markus Wuollet is a young man who worked as a server at Cafe Lurcat (one of the three restaurants on our block). At the age of 24, he was diagnosed with late-stage pancreatic cancer, and has been battling the disease for over a year. He planned a party in November to celebrate with his friends and family (and a fundraiser, to help cover his scary medical bills) and asked us to create inexpensive invitations. Though I didn’t know Markus personally, I was very touched by his story, which made me think of Lunalux founder Tim Gartmen, who lost his life to cancer at a very young age. So I was happy to help Markus on his quest to cram lots of goodness into his days. One of his friends developed a nice graphic logo, which we incorporated into a contemporary design. The invitations were letterpress-printed in chocolate and red inks on florescent white Lettra cotton cover, and paired with bright red envelopes.

We also created invitations in October for the opening reception of an art show, Dispelling Fear through Creativity. Documentary photographer Michael J. Allen spearheaded this multi-media exhibit, which shed light on the complicated issue of homelessness. With an artists’ budget, he asked us to design and print invitations for this special event. In the next breath, he also invited me to contribute original artwork to the exhibit. I said yes to both requests. Because the the show included panhandlers’ cardboard signs, we used chipboard to reference that raw material. The simple text for the invitation was letterpress-printed in red and black on 3.875×9.25 buckslip cards, and paired with red envelopes.

Which brings us to the question of… “Jenni, what did you contribute to the art exhibit?” Well, here’s a picture – me with the wood-type poster that I printed on our Vandercook proof press, inspired by a sign created by William, a homeless man who used to work on Nicollet. You can read more about this art project at Michael Allen’s website.

A $10 cover gets you in the door, and gets your name in the hat for a raffle for some high-ticket items such as Timberwolves tickets and Lynx tickets. The silent auction will include dozens of items (some expensive, some inexpensive), from letterpress-printed scratch pads to gift certificates for spa services to one-of-a-kind hand-crafted furniture pieces. All proceeds from the raffle and the silent auction will be donated to Susan G. Komen for the Cure, the world’s largest grassroots network of breast cancer survivors and activists fighting to save lives, empower people, ensure quality care for all and energize science to find the cures.

A Red Cross website calculates that my 16 donated pints may have helped save as many as 48 lives. I can’t think of many other ways to have such a positive, real impact on the lives of others. Plus I get bling out of the deal!

Some people are astonished that I can bear the needles involved in blood donation. I do not enjoy the process, but I tolerate it because it’s important to do this good deed. I can’t afford many financial donations to causes that are dear to me, and I’m too busy running my business and playing roller derby with MNRG to give much time. So donating blood is the way I have found to give of myself. Wearing my pin and bragging about it might be bad juju; it’s probably more dignified and selfless to do good works quietly. But I hope that by talking about my commitment to donating blood, I can inspire others to high-tail it to the nearest blood donation center and give something from yourself. Also, anyone who wants to race me to the ten-gallon point, drop me a line.