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Contributed by Stephen Coles Source: www.flickr.com Kit Karzen/Harris for President. License: All Rights Reserved. The Kamala Harris 2024 campaign identity, designed by Wide Eye Creative, is built around Sans Plomb, a condensed gothic not unlike the Bureau Grot used by Wide Eye for Harris’s 2020 primary bid – in turn inspired by Shirley Chisholm’s 1972 campaign. This time, though, the typeface is from a French foundry, rather than from Anglo-American origins (Stephenson Blake via Font Bureau). Source: fontsinuse.com License: All Rights Reserved. The logo for Kamala Harris’ 2020 campaign used Bureau Grot and an atypical asymmetrical layout. It’s not clear to me why they made the switch. From a design point of view, the caps aren’t significantly different from Bureau Grot. Perhaps they liked the more constructed, “modern” feel? Personally, I would have gone back to Chisholm’s pick, the all-American Franklin Gothic, which has no shortage of contemporary versions for any use case. (At the risk of friendship bias, I recommend the interpretation from Fonts In Use cofounder Nick Sherman.) The symmetrical layout for “Harris/Walz” is a much more conventional approach compared to Harris’s 2020 logo, which took a different road than most US presidential campaigns. The new look reflects her move to the center (no pun intended) for a broader audience. Source: www.flickr.com Eric Elofson/Harris for President. License: All Rights Reserved. Not the best kerning on this rally sign (AY). The font, Sans Plomb Super, doesn’t deliver that big of a gap out of the box, so something went awry in the typesetting. Source: kamalaharris.com License: All Rights Reserved. Source: kamalaharris.com License: All Rights Reserved. Source: store.kamalaharris.com License: All Rights Reserved. The supporting face for “WALZ”, running text, and other small bits like “YES SHE CAN” merch is Balto, Tal Leming’s contemporary take on the American gothic genre, such as Franklin Gothic and News Gothic. The Harris web store adds Sara Solskone and Jonathan Hoefler’s Decimal, a continuation of the Biden/Harris 2020 campaign. Seeing Solskone’s name makes me wonder if maybe there was a missed opportunity to also choose a typeface by an American woman for the main mark. For example, Program by Zuzana Licko, or Utile Narrow by Sibylle Hagmann. Source: store.kamalaharris.com License: All Rights Reserved. Source: kamalaharris.com License: All Rights Reserved. The logo used in this web pop-up is the early version before it was redrawn (see below). Source: www.instagram.com Jonathan Hoefler. License: All Rights Reserved. A refined version of the Harris/Walz logo (white outline) launched around August 11. The biggest changes were relieving the pinched curve at the top of the S and enlarging “WALZ” just slightly to the left for optical centering. Hoefler, whose typefaces (or those of Hoefler & Co.) have been part of the logo for “every Democratic president in the twenty-first century”, recently revealed that the mark was refined on August 10–11, a few weeks after its initial launch. The work – which involved some redrawing and better “WALZ” centering – was done by Leming and Scott Dadich under the direction of Wide Eye’s Alayna Citrin. Hoefler also commented that, “Trump has used Gotham for years, and NEVER bought a license. Color me surprised! We talked to a white shoe lawfirm in NYC about taking action, and was told, with a laugh, ‘take a number.’” Ironically, it was Barack Obama’s 2008 run that made Gotham (and its lookalikes) a default for US political campaigns, regardless of party. At least Harris is diverting a bit from that same old choice. This post was originally published at Fonts In Use
Contributed by Stephen Coles Source: lithub.com License: All Rights Reserved. Martyr! is a novel by Iranian-American writer Kaveh Akbar that combines modern situations with traditional imagery. For the jacket, prolific cover designer Linda Huang did what she does so well: pick a striking and relevant typeface and let it do a lot of the work. License: All Rights Reserved. Left: Salem, as advertised in the Inland Printer, Vol. 28, No. 2 (November, 1901). Right: Daria Cohen’s reinterpretation, Zangezi (2018), with additional weights, italics, and condensed (2021). Her choice was Zangezi Condensed, a fresh, fashion-forward take on Salem, in which Daria Cohen took a turn-of-the-century dazzler, narrowed it, and increased its stroke contrast, giving it even more spike and sparkle than it already had. The idiosyncratic type is the perfect companion to the contemporary use of antique illustration. Huang also deftly delivers the commercial necessities – a blurb and “a novel” – in an inconspicuous way. Huang on the design: Despite its heavy themes, I found Akbar’s novel to be insanely funny,” Huang told Literary Hub. “I cackled many times while reading the manuscript. More than anything, I wanted to evoke this unique tragi-comedic tone on the cover. One of the central, recurring images is this Iranian ‘Angel of Death’ warrior. I experimented with scale and ultimately found the warrior in miniature to be most striking, with ‘a novel’ set in a deadpan speech bubble. I was also lucky to stumble upon the perfect decorative typeface to activate all that negative space. To me, humor is one of the most alluring qualities in a book (and really, in life) so it was an absolute treat to work on Akbar’s novel. Source: www.penguinrandomhouse.com License: All Rights Reserved. The version of the cover seen in bookstores today. Martyr! quickly became a New York Times best seller – soon enough for the cover to get an extra speech balloon celebrating that fact. You can also see an improvement on the letterspacing in “Akbar”. A Digression and Suggestion Photo: Stephen Coles. License: All Rights Reserved. Once you get to the end of a book, “a note on the type” is a great way to learn about the creation of the letterforms you’ve been staring at for hours. Photo: Stephen Coles. License: All Rights Reserved. Back jacket flaps usually include an author bio and designer credit. This is good. Could they include a bit more? The interior of this book, designed by Betty Lew, includes “A Note on the Type”, a lovely hundred-year-old publishing tradition which not only credits the text face (in this case, Dante), but tells a bit of its story. Why not have a typeface credit on the jacket flap, too? Sure, you’re reading a lot more Dante than Zangezi when you read this book, but it’s the cover that often sells the book. Also, the type used on book covers is more likely to be something newer that the interior text, and thus more likely to be made by living designers. Isn’t it time we give them a nod? This post was originally published at Fonts In Use
Contributed by Stephen Coles Source: lithub.com License: All Rights Reserved. Martyr! is a novel by Iranian-American writer Kaveh Akbar that combines modern situations with traditional imagery. For the jacket, prolific cover designer Linda Huang did what she does so well: pick a striking and relevant typeface and let it do a lot of the work. License: All Rights Reserved. Left: Salem, as advertised in the Inland Printer, Vol. 28, No. 2 (November, 1901). Right: Daria Cohen’s reinterpretation, Zangezi (2018), with additional weights, italics, and condensed (2021). Her choice was Zangezi Condensed, a fresh, fashion-forward take on Salem, in which Daria Cohen took a turn-of-the-century dazzler, narrowed it, and increased its stroke contrast, giving it even more spike and sparkle than it already had. The idiosyncratic type is the perfect companion to the contemporary use of antique illustration. Huang also deftly delivers the commercial necessities – a blurb and “a novel” – in an inconspicuous way. Huang on the design: Despite its heavy themes, I found Akbar’s novel to be insanely funny,” Huang told Literary Hub. “I cackled many times while reading the manuscript. More than anything, I wanted to evoke this unique tragi-comedic tone on the cover. One of the central, recurring images is this Iranian ‘Angel of Death’ warrior. I experimented with scale and ultimately found the warrior in miniature to be most striking, with ‘a novel’ set in a deadpan speech bubble. I was also lucky to stumble upon the perfect decorative typeface to activate all that negative space. To me, humor is one of the most alluring qualities in a book (and really, in life) so it was an absolute treat to work on Akbar’s novel. Source: www.penguinrandomhouse.com License: All Rights Reserved. The version of the cover seen in bookstores today. Martyr! quickly became a New York Times best seller – soon enough for the cover to get an extra speech balloon celebrating that fact. You can also see an improvement on the letterspacing in “Akbar”. A Digression and Suggestion Photo: Stephen Coles. License: All Rights Reserved. Once you get to the end of a book, “a note on the type” is a great way to learn about the creation of the letterforms you’ve been staring at for hours. Photo: Stephen Coles. License: All Rights Reserved. Back jacket flaps usually include an author bio and designer credit. This is good. Could they include a bit more? The interior of this book, designed by Betty Lew, includes “A Note on the Type”, a lovely hundred-year-old publishing tradition which not only credits the text face (in this case, Dante), but tells a bit of its story. Why not have a typeface credit on the jacket flap, too? Sure, you’re reading a lot more Dante than Zangezi when you read this book, but it’s the cover that often sells the book. Also, the type used on book covers is more likely to be something newer that the interior text, and thus more likely to be made by living designers. Isn’t it time we give them a nod? This post was originally published at Fonts In Use
Contributed by Florian Hardwig Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. January 1990, ft. an unidentified rounded sans Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. February 1990 ft. Italia Bold C82 is the website of Nicholas Rougeux, a Chicago-based designer and data artist. One of the many great things one can find on C82 is his collection of train tickets sold by Metra. Every month, the commuter rail system in the Chicago metropolitan area releases a new ticket design. In 2004, Nick started collecting. Over the years, and with the help from other ephemera enthusiasts as well as of Metra, the archive considerably grew in size. At the time of writing, it includes an impressive 1,395 tickets, spanning more than fifty years of commuter history. This post highlights the monthly tickets from 1990 and 1991. In a recent blog update, Nick comments: In the early 90s, ticket designs varied significantly with new typography and visual styles appearing each month. I can’t say these are some of my favorites but I recognize that this may have been in an effort to curb counterfeiting. However, I do enjoy some of the typography from the 1990s tickets. I owe a big thanks to fellow collector John for these and others. Each of the tickets features a different typeface. Many of the chosen fonts stem from the libraries of ITC (Korinna, Quorum, Serif Gothic, Zapf Chancery, …) and Letraset (Caxton, Italia, Romic, …). There are also classics that go back to the era of foundry type, like Beton, City, or Optima, and Monotype originals like Albertus and Plantin. The typographic smorgasbord is completed by designs as diverse as Moderne Schwabacher, a turn-of-the-century blackletter; Salut, an upright script first cast by Gebr. Klingspor in the 1930s; and Checkmate, a futuristic sans with chamfered corners, dreamt up at Schaedler in the 1970s – all of which were either used still as phototype, or in the form of early digitizations. For the year 1990, all abbreviated month names are shown in vertically stretched letterforms. The source of the stacked numerals (“90”) was identified by Quinn as City Bold, see comments. The bitmap caps (“D/A”) are likely custom. While the spelled-out month names and the ticket numbers are similar to OCR-B, the specific font appears to be a proprietary design with some differences, probably from a specialized printing machine. The Metra logo seen on the depicted train as well as on some of the tickets is Crillee. See also the dedicated post about it. Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. March 1990 ft. Macbeth Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. April 1990 ft. City Bold Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. May 1990 ft. Checkmate Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. June 1990 ft. Roberta Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. July 1990 ft. what appears to be a version of Filmotype Amber (or a similar face) Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. August 1990 ft. Salut Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. September 1990 ft. Moderne Schwabacher a.k.a. Chalet Text Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. October 1990 ft. Clarendon Condensed Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. November 1990 ft. Beton Bold Condensed Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. January 1991 ft. ITC Quorum Bold Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. February 1991 ft. ITC Kabel Ultra Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. March 1991 ft. ITC Serif Gothic Heavy with the pointed forms for M and A that were omitted from the digital version. “March 1991” uses ITC Korinna and Times New Roman. Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. April 1991 ft. a bold variant of Plantin Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. May 1991 ft. a bold variant of Albertus Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. June 1991 ft. Caxton Bold Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. July 1991 ft. Optima Bold Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. August ft. ITC Cheltenham Bold Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. September 1991 ft. ITC Zapf Chancery Bold with the alternate swash caps Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. October 1991 ft. a bold variant of Century Oldstyle Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. November 1991 ft. Romic Bold Source: www.c82.net C82 / Nicholas Rougeux. License: All Rights Reserved. December 1991 ft. ITC Berkeley Oldstyle This post was originally published at Fonts In Use
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There’s a psychological burden of digital life even heavier than distraction. When the iPhone was first introduced in 2007, the notion of an “everything device” was universally celebrated. A single object that could serve as phone, camera, music player, web browser, and so much more promised unprecedented convenience and connectivity. It was, quite literally, the dream of the nineties. But the better part of twenty years later, we’ve gained enough perspective to recognize that this revolutionary vision came with costs we did not anticipate. Distraction, of course, is the one we can all relate to first. An everything device has the problem of being useful nearly all the time, and when in use, all consuming. When you use it to do one thing, it pushes you toward others. In order to avoid this, you must disable functions. That’s an interesting turn of events, isn’t it? We have made a thing that does more than we need, more often than we desire. Because system-wide, duplicative notifications are enabled by default, the best thing you could say about the device’s design is that it lacks a point of view toward a prioritization of what it does. The worst thing you could say is that it is distracting by design. (I find it fascinating how many people – myself included — attempt to reduce the features of their smartphone to the point of replicating a “dumbphone” experience in order to save ourselves from distraction, but don’t actually go so far as to use a lesser-featured phone because a few key features are just too good to give up. A dumbphone is less distracting, but a nightmare for text messaging and a lousy camera. It turns out I don’t want a phone at all, but a camera that texts — and ideally one smaller than anything on the market now. I know I’m not alone, and yet this product will not be made. ) This kind of distraction is direct distraction. It’s the kind we are increasingly aware of, and as its accumulating stress puts pressure on our inner and outer lives, we can combat it with various choices and optimizations. But there is another kind of distraction that is less direct, though just as cumulative and, I believe, just as toxic. I’ve come to think of it as the “digital echo.” On a smartphone, every single thing it is used to do generates information that goes elsewhere. The vast majority of this is unseen — though not unfelt — by us. Everyone knows that there is no privacy within a digital device, nor within its “listening” range. We are all aware that as much information as smartphone provides to us, exponentially more is generated for someone else — someone watching, listening, measuring, and monetizing. The “digital echo” is more than just the awareness of this; it is the cognitive burden of knowing that our actions generate data elsewhere. The echo exists whenever we use connected technology, creating a subtle but persistent awareness that what we do isn’t just our own. A device like a smartphone has always generated a “digital echo”, but many others are as well. Comparing two different motor vehicles illustrates this well. In a car like a Tesla, which we might think of as a “smartcar” since it’s a computer you can drive, every function produces a digital signal. Adjusting the air conditioning, making a turn, opening a door — the car knows and records it all, transmitting this information to distant servers. By contrast, my 15-year-old Honda performs all of its functions without creating these digital echoes. The operations remain private, existing only in the moment they occur. In our increasingly digital world, I have begun to feel the SCIF-like isolation of the cabin of my car, and I like it. (The “smartcar”, of course, won’t remain simply a computer you can drive. The penultimate “smartcar” drives itself. The self-driving car represents perhaps the most acute expression of how digital culture values attention and convenience above all else, especially control and ownership. As a passenger of a self-driving car, you surrender control over the vehicle’s operation in exchange for the “freedom” to direct your attention elsewhere, most likely to some digital signal either on your own device or on screens within the vehicle. I can see the value in this; driving can be boring and most times I am behind the wheel I’d rather be doing something else. But currently, truly autonomous vehicles are service-enabling products like Waymo, meaning we also relinquish ownership. The benefits of that also seem obvious: no insurance premiums, no maintenance costs. But not every advantage is worth its cost. The economics of self-driving cars are not clear-cut. There’s a real debate to be had about attention, convenience, and ownership that I hope will play out before we have no choice but to be a passenger in someone else’s machine.) When I find myself looking for new ways to throttle my smartphone’s functions, or when I sit in the untapped isolation of my car, I often wonder about the costs of the “digital echo.” What is the psychological cost of knowing that your actions aren’t just your own, but create information that can be observed and analyzed by others? As more aspects of our lives generate digital echoes, they force an ambient awareness of being perpetually witnessed rather than simply existing. This transforms even solitary activities into implicit social interactions. It forces us to maintain awareness of our “observed self” alongside our “experiencing self,” creating a kind of persistent self-consciousness. We become performers in our own lives rather than merely participants. I think this growing awareness contributes to a growing interest in returning to single-focus devices and analog technologies. Record players and film cameras aren’t experiencing resurgence merely from nostalgia, but because they offer fundamentally different relationships with media — relationships characterized by intention, presence, and focus. In my own life, this recognition has led to deliberate choices about which technologies to embrace and which to avoid. Here are three off the top of my head: Replacing streaming services with owned media formats (CDs, Blu-rays) that remain accessible on my terms, not subject to platform changes or content disappearance Preferring printed books while using dedicated e-readers for digital texts — in this case, accepting certain digital echoes when the benefits (in particular, access to otherwise unavailable material) outweigh the costs Rejecting smart home devices entirely, recognizing that their convenience rarely justifies the added complexity and surveillance they introduce You’ve probably made similarly-motivated decisions, perhaps in other areas of your life or in relation to other things entirely. What matters, I think, is that these choices aren’t about rejecting technology but about creating spaces for more intentional engagement. They represent a search for balance in a world that increasingly defaults to maximum connectivity. I had a conversation recently with a friend who mused, “What are these the early days of?” What a wonderful question that is; we are, I hope, always living in the early days of something. Perhaps now, we’re witnessing the beginning of a new phase in our relationship with technology. The initial wave of digital transformation prioritized connecting everything possible; the next wave may be more discriminating about what should be connected and what’s better left direct and immediate. I hope to see operating systems truly designed around focus rather than multitasking, interfaces that respect attention rather than constantly competing for it, and devices that serve discrete purposes exceptionally well instead of performing multiple functions adequately. The digital echoes of our actions will likely continue to multiply, but we can choose which echoes we’re willing to generate and which activities deserve to remain ephemeral — to exist only in the moment they occur and then in the memories of those present. What looks like revision or retreat may be the next wave of innovation, borne out of having learned the lessons of the last few decades and desiring better for the next.
01 Intro Conversational interfaces are a bit of a meme. Every couple of years a shiny new AI development emerges and people in tech go “This is it! The next computing paradigm is here! We’ll only use natural language going forward!”. But then nothing actually changes and we continue using computers the way we always […]
