Odesta

I hate this typeface.

I hate it because I wish I had drawn it myself. But I didn’t. And even if I had, who is to say whose would be better? It doesn’t matter, because this is excellent, and there is no need to even try.

When in conversation with people who know nothing about fonts, once they find out about my job, they in­vari­ably ask what my favorite typeface is. I’ve always found that question to be awkward. It’s difficult to answer when one makes, but rarely uses, the thing under discussion. I feel like an asshole saying, “I like the one that I made for this well-known, high-end client” — it’s self-absorbed and pretentious. I appre­ciate a high-quality typeface, of course, but I’m not a graphic designer, so I have no reason to license one. In answer to this question, I usually just give the name of a typeface I admire to keep the conversation flowing.

But this… this is a typeface I want. And that is an incredibly rare thing. This captures what I would want for myself so perfectly (without me even knowing that until I saw it), that I have been thinking about it. In fact, I don’t want anyone else to have it. I want perpet­ual exclusivity. I know that’s silly (and expensive), and that Ondrej can’t agree to that now that Odesta is out there. I take solace in knowing that now everyone else can license it and put it on everything BECAUSE THEY SHOULD PUT IT ON EVERYTHING.

More specifically, I love Odesta’s perfectly round ball terminals. (I often make them in my own sketches.) They lend themselves well to the pochoir/stencil effect, but this is also a script, which is lovely. It has some beautiful curves. The ‘M’. The ‘k’. The ‘r’… Especially the ‘r’. I make an ‘r’ like that in my hand­writing just because I love the shape so much. And, oh yes, that high contrast. So elegant! All of these ele­ments together should be a total mess, but here, they come together quite nicely. There is a bit of stiffness to it, but I know where it comes from, and I forgive it. What Ondrej pulled off here is pretty amazing.

Odesta is a little bit bonkers, and that’s why I love it. I could never truly hate it.

Magasin

To say that Magasin is not your average script font is stating the obvious. It is quirky and totally irreverent. It sits stock-straight upright and follows very few rules when it comes to connection between the letter­forms. You get a real sense of Mid-Century Modern and French perfume packaging, along with the echoes of Quirinus/Corvinus and Fluidum in its contrast and terminals.

But don’t confuse Laura Meseguer’s Magasin for some dusty script revival. It is rigorous and modern, por­tray­ing a fierce independence as it easily sets itself apart from all the script fonts being released right now, dancing to its own atonal, syncopated rhythm.

Anyone daring enough to use Magasin will find a useful amount of alternates, ligatures, and swashes that create captivating and playful word shapes. (If anything is missing, I’d say Magasin could use more terminal forms.) I can imagine it deployed large in magazines and small on packaging. Don’t worry about the unorthodox letter shapes; instead, consider them an asset, because they will make people look twice. Additionally, the proud x-height assists, along with the context, in making Magasin legible enough at text sizes.

If you want a taste of what is possible, check out the specimen Meseguer created, along with the article she wrote for I Love Typography. They clearly dem­on­strate the different things that are possible with this idiosyncratic typeface design.

Erotica

Erotica is truly worthy of its name. Its character springs from its excesses, but its allure is owed to Maximiliano Sproviero’s developed skill in coordinating the complex relationships among the voluptuous thicks and razor thins, as well as the seemingly endless flourishes and alternates.

Erotica’s three script variants (Big, Inline, and Small) playfully move between the natural flaring of a steel pen’s written forms and the tricks only possible in a drawn Spencerian script. Erotica offers filled loops and delicious curves that lasciviously and lachrym­osely flare just before the turns, promising delights to those willing to explore. And though it pushes the boundaries of scripts in these constructed ways, it avoids losing itself to them. As a result, Erotica can stand with ease in the most sophisticated contexts, which only heightens its appeal. The TDC’s imprim­atur only confirms what is clear from just a few settings: there is excellence on display here.

Though Erotica comes in weights named Big and Small, there is truly no way to set Erotica below 48 points without losing all of the benefits of the design. And though the Small cut seems to acknowledge that not everyone has the luxury of placing a single word on a magazine cover, you should put away any thoughts of setting an entire formal invitation with this family (which wouldn’t have been terribly erotic, anyway). Fortunately, all of this space-consuming script eroticism comes with a hairline slab serif to provide a fantastic contrast. Erotica Big is a garden of delicate vines through which Capitals Big can weave.

The best aspects of Erotica’s character are likely owed to the relative youth of Sproviero as a script designer. This family feels unique and alluring because it skirts the edge of what “should” be and equips the typesetter with enough flourishes and ornaments to be danger­ous. In fact, it seems to knowingly go too far at times, just to remind you that the guard rails are gone. It’s a simple matter to create a terrible mess with Erotica’s cabinet of tricks. But the rewards for purposefully indulgent play are simply too great to resist.

For a deeper look at Erotica, Spencerian scripts, and Sproviero, I recommend Paul Shaw’s excellent review for Print.

Quintet

Today’s large font families allow graphic designers to easily create variation — using different weights, widths, or italics — while retaining stylistic consistency. Kunihiko Okano, who is also an experienced package designer, chose an unusual way of creating a useful palette of fonts.

How do you achieve typographic diversity in display use? The layered approach of Quintet gives the designer a toolbox that allows exploration of different shades within the same underlying model. Different weights are implemented in an unconventional way: instead of varying the main strokes, Quintet varies the weight of the outline. And this contour itself is maybe the most remarkable feature of the font: it is in fact broadnib-based double stroke drawn as a single, connected line. This technique itself has been practised by calligraphers for centuries, albeit in ornaments and illustrations, not the letterforms themselves. This way, Quintet gives us the pleasure to enjoy it not only once at first sight but again as we discover its clever loops and connections.

You could think of so many design possibilities with Quintet, as well as applications. It could be perfect for chocolate packaging or cosmetics — perhaps each layer printed in a different colour, or maybe one layer embossed, or even better foil blocked? It is not often in student projects that one could instantly see applications of the font so clearly.

Quintet was originally developed at the type]media type design course in The Hague. If we remember correctly, the first two of the unofficial rules of the program are “Make it extreme” and “Enough is enough”, and Quintet is a perfect example of this. It is remarkable in that it implements so many concepts without looking like a mash-up. Despite its richness, the typeface looks strangely simple and systematic. It must have taken a lot of self-discipline, trying and discarding of options. Hats off!

Bery Roman, Script, and Tuscan

Sometime, somewhere, during the last decades of the nineteenth century, the type designer slowly mutated into a ghost hunter. Faces of the past became sources of inspiration, some quite obvious, others forgotten; all acquired a mnemonic, almost “mediumnic” value. An aura.

It is heaven-sent, then, that the works of Jean Gabriel Bery were summoned and rescued from oblivion, thanks to the pioneering research work of Eric Kindel and Fred Smeijers on the history of stenciled letterforms. Those who visited the astonishing and stimulating exhibition the duo curated for the Catapult gallery in Antwerp last spring know what I’m talking about.

Bery was a stencil maker established in Paris in the 1780s, who sold a set of 400 brass plates to Benjamin Franklin. All these materials, along with a specimen sheet, are now archived in the American Philosophical Society in Philadelphia. They possibly represent the only survival of this craftsman’s remarkable work, and an opening towards an unexpected revival.

In creating Bery Roman, Script, and Tuscan, Smeijers cautiously transferred the brass-made designs into an astute combination of delicacy and strength. Bery and Smeijers’s dialog, a bridge built over a 230-year gap, allows designers to use three distinctive and complementary display fonts that can bring an enlightening flavor to our digital epoch.

Alarme

Collages, calligraphy and grids in a retrospective of the late Beat painter Brion Gysin’s work

by Isabelle Doal

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The work of British-Canadian artist Brion Gysin, defined by techniques like mixed collages, systematic repetition and “cut-up” (a method he invented), is experiencing somewhat of a revival since his death in 1986. A stream of contemporary artists have recently taken interest in the artist and the newly-opened “Alarme” exhibition at Paris’ Galerie de France illustrates the scope of his oeuvre, following two recent important exhibitions of his contributions.

The Pompidou showed a film, jointly produced by Gysin, William Burroughs (the two were good friends) and Antony Balch, demonstrating “semi-conscious states and trances,” while his work on sound-collages, a medium he conceived with his former NYC studiomate Ramuntcho Matta, was featured in a group show on the topic at Galerie Anne Barraulthe.

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Gysin’s based his works on crossings, formally represented by the constant use of grid patterns. Most of the time he employed a rudimentary printing technique, rolling a paintbrush on a paper sheet over a canvas of wire threads, consistently incorporating script letters and photos into the grids.

Both poet and painter, and part of the Beat Generation, Gysin has always played with words and letters as graphic materials. He arrived in New York during World War II and started experimenting with literature and various kinds of writing experiences. He created “permutation poems,” repeating a single sentence several times with the words rearranged in different orders so that each reiteration is a new discovery, for example “I don’t dig work, man/Man, work I don’t dig.” Many of these variations he derived using a random sequence and was inspired by free verse, but several also followed a mathematical structure.

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The cut-up technique was used by writers such as John Dos Passos and laid the foundation for “Naked Lunch.” “Alarme” shows a couple of artworks featuring pieces of text from the pivotal novel, using letters as signs on small square water-colored papers, created by rolling paintbrushes on metallic grids.

A couple of panels show the four-year-long construction of the Pompidou through a photographic series consisting of vertical stripes stuck together. Small square photos from contact sheets act as grids, one by one incorporated into inked columns reminiscent of skyscrapers.

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Completing the overview, a series of ink-painted letters in Asian and Arabic scripts speak to Gysin’s devotion to painting and drawing. The artist, who spoke Japanese and Arabic, played with the opposition between the Japanese vertical script and horizontal Arabic writing with an interest in painting these figures to make crossings and grids.

“Alarme” runs through 2 April 2010 at Galerie de France.


Surfrider Foundation

Après la campagne d’affichage de Young & Rubicam, voici ce nouvel axe pour l’association internationale Surfrider. Une baseline efficace : “Faîtes quelque-chose contre le réchauffement climatique. Faites-le maintenant” et des visuels imaginés par l’agence Script.



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Voir en haute résolution : Surfrider 1 / Surfrider 2

Previously on Fubiz

Studio Lettering

Ken Barber is an incredibly talented letterer. And Tal Leming is an incredibly talented font technology whiz (and a good type designer as well). House Industries’ Studio Lettering series unifies great lettering, cutting-edge OpenType font technology, and one more thing: culturally-sensitive design.

The three script fonts — Studio Lettering Swing, Slant and Sable — deliver just what one expects from a House Industries font family: high-quality, fresh, lively signwriter-style “hand lettering”. Yet unlike most “script fonts,” text set in the Studio Lettering faces looks anything but mechanical. Smart OpenType programming produces alternating letter shapes so that the result looks natural.

Owing some to House’s earlier successes, House Script and House Casual, the first member of the series, Sable, recreates the friendly “store signwriter” look — but takes it a few steps ahead. After an extensive study of handwriting differences between America and various European countries, Ken Barber created (in all three fonts of the series) letter and digit variants that follow different national preferences. In Sable, there is a “forward” and a “reverse” ‘r’, a ‘7’ with and without a horizontal stroke in the middle, or a ‘p’ with a swoosh or with a bowl. The variants have been linked to the OpenType language selection mechanism, so assigning a different language in InDesign automatically gives the text the appropriate local flavor. Bloody awesome! Also, the diacritics in all three fonts are really well done. I only wish Sable included the all-favorite “Sale! Yes! Free! Call!”
wordmarks, ideally with localized variants.

With more than 1,400 glyphs, Studio Lettering Swing has the most extensive character set in the suite. Though this be madness, yet there is method in ’t. Rather than randomly switching alternate letterforms, Swing smoothly flows between slightly larger and smaller shapes, which produces a recurring rhythm. Signwriter-style, and a bit girly.

To me, the third member of the suite, Studio Lettering Slant, is probably the most impressive. The localized flavors in this bold, backslanted, somewhat serious script go as far as allowing the user to switch to a German-style flavor, in which some letterforms are derived from Sütterlin — a kind of a handwriting counterpart to Fraktur. But while Fraktur has very little practical application today, the German flavor of Slant feels very authentic, reminding me of handwritten signs that I still sometimes see in Berlin.

Overall, I’m impressed and amazed.

Based in Berlin, Adam Twardoch works as product and marketing manager at FontLab as well as multilingual typography and font technology consultant for MyFonts and other clients. He teaches at universities in the UK, USA, Germany, Poland, and Russia. In 2007, Adam edited the Polish edition of Robert Bringhurst’s “The Elements of Typographic Style”.

Compendium

For 2007’s “best of” I picked Burgues Script — masterful, gorgeous, and digitally unparalleled. For 2008 I can’t help but be utterly in awe of Ale Paul’s talent and sheer obsessiveness as I choose Compendium.

Paul has explained that he moved back in time, before Louis Madarasz, to conjure up the spirit and style of Platt Rogers Spencer. What more to say? The work of a man largely responsible for shaping American penmanship plus the genius of Ale Paul equals a stunning new script. I can’t wait to see what Ale has in store next.

Christian Palino is a salty Cape Codder and currently a design strategist at Adaptive Path. He’s appeared in and written for various design publications and has taught courses on subjects including typography and service design at IUAV University of Venice, Domus Academy, and the Interaction Design Institute Ivrea.