We recently connected with Karen Sawyer and have shared our conversation below.

Karen, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. Can you talk to us about a project that’s meant a lot to you?

Posters are my jam. I love them, they are a thrilling medium to play with visual language and experiment with new concepts. To me, greeting cards are like miniature posters—tiny, mail-ready posters. Art accessibility is also close to my heart (another reason I like greeting cards). People say some version of, “Oh, I don’t have an artistic bone in my body”. Perhaps if more people are exposed to varied art, they might rethink what it can be. Everyone can create something. The right inspiration just has to come along.

In 2018, I talked with a friend about posters and how cool it would be to make some that people could stumble upon around town. My friend loved the idea and helped me write a small grant proposal to get the project started. That is how Heavy Jeens, a public art poster project, was born, going strong for over six years now, with thousands of posters distributed for free monthly. The project is supported by Pier Six Press, city grants, and local donations.

The name Heavy Jeens has roots in Bremerton history. During World War II, the city population surged, drawing workers from across the country, especially women. Workplace posters were created explaining everything from job responsibilities to proper attire. One of those posters advised women to wear heavy jeens to their shipyard jobs. In my mind, Heavy Jeens stands for hard work and education, and of course, is a tip of the hard hat to our shipyard.

The basis of Heavy Jeens is promoting art and community in my town. Every month, a new edition of hand-printed posters is created and planted around town for people to find as part of our First Friday Artwalk. The posters are distributed in local businesses and on the streets. Their locations are meant to encourage people to explore the city and connect with their neighbors. 

People frequently share how a particular poster resonated with them or how families enjoyed exploring the town with their kids to find one. Growing up in Bremerton, I care deeply about this community. With this project, I am confident I am leaving it a little better than I found it.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

what it is….

Pier Six Press is a woman-owned and operated small business. We’re driven by a deep desire to connect- with ourselves, our community, and each other. Our work is inspired by the mess and beauty of everyday life. Our greeting cards and other stationery products are designed to bridge the gap between us all.

We know folks have many of the same big, complex, wild emotions. However, in the ever-evolving chaos of this world, we often are convinced we’re alone in our experiences. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed and more divided than ever. We get it and we’re are here to bring you back from it. Here to infuse warmth and inspiration into your day, foster tighter relationships, empower vulnerability, and be grounded in moments worth celebrating(which are many!).

Our line is famous for its vivid colors and bold design. We’ve never met a neon we didn’t love. We believe great design isn’t a luxury, it uplifts. Each product is a reminder of the empathy, kindness, and joy waiting for us all. Just a card really can make a difference.

All of our greeting cards, stationery, posters and gift products are illustrated, letterpress, and risograph printed from our hometown studio in, Bremerton, Washington; a mossy nook of the northwest surrounded by the Puget Sound. We are advocates for our community and commit to being a strong voice for equity, diversity, and safe spaces for marginalized groups, especially in our local art scene. Besides printing cards and other stationery goods, we run a public art poster project called Heavy Jeens. Heavy Jeen’s promotes access to the arts while promoting local small business.

How it started….

Pier Six Press was conceived in a windowless studio on a cold, rainy afternoon. I was 23 when I met Ruth—a beautiful 1950s Universal 1 Vandercook proof press. If I ever experienced love at first sight, it was when I heard her motor hum to life and the subtle click-clack of her inking carriage moving back and forth. I knew almost nothing about her, but I knew I’d met my destiny.

Okay, that’s a ridiculous way to start the story, but honestly, it’s kind of how it went down. I was introduced to printmaking in college. I loved (and still do) everything about it—the smell of ink, the feel of fresh paper, the fact I gotta get my hands dirty. My college studio existed as a community. We not only shared the equipment. We shared ideas, knowledge, and even meals. We traded prints and had potlucks. The studio attitude is what I strive for in life—to be collaborative, thoughtful, always curious, a little chaotic, experiment, and always bring a hot dish.

Anyway, I graduated in the middle of the recession. The job market was not ideal. I was lucky enough to work part-time in a few print studios. However, I mostly ended up in retail, where I found myself nearly ten years later—pregnant, commuting six hours a day, hating every single minute of it.

After a particularly rough day, my partner asked me: What would you do if you could have any job? My heart immediately went to Ruth and that beautiful print studio. My answer, I would open a letterpress business.

Then he did the sexiest thing imaginable— helped me write a business plan. Not three months later, I quit my job, bought a press (instead of a new car), and Pier Six Press was officially born. 

Pier Six Press is named after an iconic landmark in my hometown, the place I’ve returned to after living in other states and abroad. I’m a firm believer of leaving it better than I found it—from my neighborhood to my global community. Sometimes the global part is really daunting, so with my art and my business, I’ll start with the local part.

Printing explaination:

Letterpress is a printing process that has been around since the middle ages. Once the standard for printing; metal or wood type is inked and pressed against paper. The technique produces an impression in the paper making it different from offset or digital printing. Each color is applied separately, some of our products go through the press five or six times. 

A risograph is a stencil duplicator that fuses the look and process of screenprinting with the technology of a modern photocopier.  It provides a unique method for creating beautiful art prints. Risograph is an imperfect printing process. Products vary slightly in ink coverage or have small roller marks. In our mind, these are part of the charm of the process.

We often hear about learning lessons – but just as important is unlearning lessons. Have you ever had to unlearn a lesson?

In 2007, I went to art school in the Pacific Northwest. It was many things—eye-opening, challenging, and home to a baffling number of mini bike gangs—but mostly, a masterclass in feeling like my drawing skills were fundamentally wrong.

I majored in illustration. The department head had a strong preference for realistic, precise drawings. Students whose work met that description (which coincidentally was the description of his own) could expect glowing critiques. For me, drawing is like hacking away at something—it’s messy, rough, and usually isn’t anatomically correct. Now, my work is all the better for it. Realism does not come naturally out of my hands.

For me, critiques were a variant of, “This is okay, but what if you tried harder to draw?”. Which I translated as “draw more realistic.”. I did try. I copied what I thought was correct. I imagined what illustrative excellence was. I’ve never found drawing particularly easy—I love it; it’s part of who I am, but it also takes a fair amount of focus. It can be a slog to get in a rhythm – add attempting realism, then drawing becomes painful in the best times. However, I did it. I trained myself until I received those raving reviews. And for a long time—over ten years—I kept making work like that.

COVID changed everything. I had a sudden family loss, and for a while, I stopped drawing altogether. Amid that strange, early pandemic life, I started going through my old stuff—abandoned sketchbooks, things I hadn’t looked at in years. I found old drawings from school. I was surprised to find they weren’t shit. They were pretty good. They just weren’t in the style my professor liked.

A light turned on. I picked up my pencil again with a radical idea: Why not just draw how I want? What if I drew what came naturally, something graphic, bold, a little weird? After all, this is the only life I get the chance to do that.

And so I do. 

Now, drawing can still be a challenge, but every time I push through, I feel a new excitement about where I might end up. It’s not painful; it’s exhilarating. 

So, the lesson? Just because someone doesn’t like my work—even someone with “authority” over what’s “good”—doesn’t mean it isn’t great.

Any resources you can share with us that might be helpful to other creatives?

I wish I had realized sooner that it’s okay to ask for help—that I don’t need to know how to do everything or pretend I do. Admitting when I don’t have the answers and seeking support makes everything flow more smoothly in the long run.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.piersixpress.com
• Instagram: @piersixpress
• Facebook: @piersixpress

Image Credits

Karen Sawyer
Judith Morales
Wendy Dreany
Logan Westrom