Hi, today I'm sharing this article by Louise Sloper from Shots Magazine. https://magazine.shots.net/news/view/the-storytelling-superpower-of-typography 'Typography is an art form and a science, ' Sloper writes. This is my stance as well, and a reason I'm so attracted to it. It's both creative and productive, both open and closed. There are rules, but also endless possibilities. She shares this anecdote: 'Back in 2013, acclaimed filmmaker Errol Morris ran an experiment in the New York Times. Readers were encouraged to consider a passage from The Beginning of Infinity by David Deutsch, discussing the likelihood of Earth being destroyed by an asteroid. The catch was that the online article was secretly set in varied, randomised typefaces, and followed by a survey asking whether the viewer agreed with Deutsch’s statement and, consequently, if they saw themselves as an optimist or a pessimist. What Morris discovered was that Baskerville was statistically more likely to influence the minds of the participants than Georgia, Helvetica, Comic Sans or Trebuchet. It was a small but interesting experiment illustrating how typography can shape our perception of the truth.' Now, that is illustrative of the power that lies in typography!

You're facing a terrible choice. The world is devoid of typefaces, fonts have been dissolved into faint memories. Those glorious font selection menus cut down to a binary. Written communication persists, though; even though the selection is slim, you have options: Times New Roman or Helvetica. For all time. Which font will you use in all applications, forever? Why?

Here lives the ghost of handwriting – from formal copperplate engravings to casual café chalkboards. Script typefaces preserve humanity's most intimate form of communication. Some echo the disciplined strokes of 18th-century writing masters. Others capture the spontaneous flow of brush and pen. All carry the warmth of human gesture. They often retain the joining strokes from formal handwriting, the cursive. Some designs feature a distinct contrast between thick and thin strokes, mimicking the appearance of broad pens and brushes. Others trend towards decorative styles seen on signs and posters. They’re heavily influenced by time periods and culture. It’s a bit of a paradox how these handwriting styles have migrated over into computer pixels. But I’m glad they’re there, because I can’t write like this. Do you use script faces in your work? I know some of you here actually work with your hands to achieve these letterforms. And I'm impressed!

Before we dive into the complex and varied forms of classifying typefaces, let's start with this: we have two major categories – those with small bits at the end of the strokes, and those without. Those tiny end strokes are, in general, called serifs. And the two categories, then, are distinguished by having serifs or not. They are called serif typefaces or sans-serif typefaces. Where do we place lettering that looks like handwriting? Or blackletters found in those old bibles? And aren’t there tons of different serifs and sans-serifs? Yes, there’s a lot to explore here. Let’s take one step at a time and explore the grotesque world of type classification.

In my years in graphic design school, I was fond of Swiss-style designs and principles. I enjoyed modernist art and experimented with minimalistic designs. But after some time, I turned around completely. I started to see the emperor's new clothes for what they were. Experiments, a much-needed response, perhaps. But nonetheless something temporary. I guess I returned to my starting point. A position I believe most people have: The beautiful paintings in the national galleries are real art. The beautiful nineteenth-century buildings around the world are the pinnacle of architecture. The great classical novels still rule as the best literature. In design and typography, it isn't the industrial grotesque typefaces that give the world the beauty it deserves. No. The traditional classic book typefaces that emerged in Italy and France—based on the earliest printing press techniques, which in turn were based on scribes' meticulous work—have become the standard for what a great typeface looks like. Sometimes, I declare: "I only use serifed typefaces in my work" — a way of upholding typographic tradition. Previously, I experimented with combining different typefaces—using sans-serif for headings and humanist antiquas for body text. Now, however, I prefer letting a single typeface family govern the entire publication. I find myself drawn to the established classics: Garamond, Bembo, Sabon, Caslon, Jenson, Baskerville. These time-tested typefaces consistently deliver excellent results. I guess I’ve matured. What about you? What stance do you take? Do you have a guiding principle?