I believe in typefaces

June 8-10, 2009

I've occasionally been branded as a nerd, an accusation that I have learned to welcome despite its ambiguous meaning. To me, being a nerd means I follow the nerd philosophy, including its principles of curiosity, thought, and understanding. I love technical matters for their definitiveness, but any experienced nerd will know that my interests cannot be so confined. As much as I like mathematics, I like my individual vision of creativity even more. When these two interests coincide, the nerd in me acquires a passion.

I believe in typefaces -- those collections of fonts that translate an individual character designed for the comprehension of a non-human, into a series of glyphs that humans can read and interpret. Typefaces, and the associated art of typesetting, define our books and written documents because they are the only appearance to a series of endless words of meaning. First impressions count for humans in face-to-face interaction; they equally apply to the clothing that covers piece of writing.

Most of us don't wonder about the ingenuity of typefaces. But a few years ago, I sat down and wondered. I pondered the brilliance of creative and yet mechanical glyphs, realizing what I had previously overlooked. The artistic elegance and rigor of each glyph is awe-inspiring; yet at the same time, the perplexity of design is fascinating.

What makes typefaces so unique is the wonderful combination of art, mathematics, and engineering that prevails. Each glyph needs to be designed with aesthetic appeal, but the typeface as a whole must be engineered to be a practical and fluid combination of these poetic glyphs. And mathematics is at the root of everything: vectors define the outline of fonts while complex algorithms apply kerning, hyphenation, and justification rules. The closest field that retains a similar diversity of features is structural design, but rarely are architectural, engineering, and surveying responsibilities considered together, as is the case with type design. The intellectuals behind typefaces -- people like Hermann Zapf and Donald Knuth -- are world-class mathematicians, practical engineers, and among the best of creative artists.

Perhaps my attraction to typefaces enhances my reputation as a nerd. But I humbly disagree with the assumption that these passions should only be limited to the realm of gurus. Whether we like it or not, every person regardless of technical capability is involved in one way or another with type design when they read or write a typed document. By sticking to the default settings on a document I type -- the Times New Roman typeface in Microsoft Word for instance -- I send a message of indifference, just as a person in "default" clothes does. But I might also choose a particular typeface because of my intended audience or purpose, as President Obama did during his election campaign. By choosing a monospaced typeface for this script, I attempt to send a message of precision similar to that of text manuscripts. And by reading this script, you probably receive that message subconsciously. Typefaces are all around us -- in streets, on boxes, in books, and on the initials of ships -- and the hidden message we send or receive with them is as important to our society as the words we choose.

Some people love to talk, making sure their attire matches their personality. I find writing comforting, and attempt to put together my own fashion. I believe in that power.