When I started learned about journalism and newspapers and all the associated ephemera that comes with it, we were still doing paste-up layout, but the Linotype process was still in enough memories that it was taught — not always in a class, but almost by osmosis.
As Rob Beschizza at BoingBoing comments,
The characteristics of a production process often become desirable when the process becomes obsolete; “flaws” become symbolic of the good taste and expense that old ways acquire when freed from commercial significance. But it’s not just a cult of the hand-made. Even the heaviest and most unwieldy machinery can attain the same same cachet. Whatever the word for this technological nostalgia is, Linotype is surely the most extreme example.
You’ll see this in the recent resurgence of letterpress, as well. A good letterpress operator was once known for being able to just kiss the paper with the ink, leaving a perfect image but no indenting. Nowadays, people beg for and caress the embossing that a heavy letterpress strike will produce. The flaw has become emblematic of the process.
This is also true about leather. A true leather will have flaws because it is made from the skin of an imperfect animal. But “manufactured leather” which is made by bonding together tiny pieces of leftover leather, will have a perfect, flawless grain to it.
Once you know what to look for, you can see this in all kinds of products. Manufacturers know this, too, and that’s why you can buy fake plastic woodgrain that has knots in it.
Weird, it’s like an arms race between authentic and imitation, with the cutting edge being the reproduction of errors.
(“Linotype: The Film” Teaser from Linotype: The Film on Vimeo.)