Last time, I talked a bit about one of the final projects in my typography class. Continuing on that topic, this week I wanted to focus on the other major final in that class – a semester long journal. The parameters for this project were wide-open. Beyond needing a weekly entry and being something that could be handed in, we were basically free to create anything that we liked.
Early in the semester, while reading about the early days of typography, I took an interest in the process of hand-casting letters. The first pieces of movable type were hand-carved from wood, with each different size and style requiring a new carving. Each letter was a movable module that would be hand-placed and aligned as a press plate. Besides taking a really long time, it also meant that an experienced printer knew what just about every letter of a font looked like.
Having grown up in a digital world, I found this fascinating. While there are of course many, many advantages to digital typography, I saw a certain charm to the old-fashioned method, much like how some photographers still prefer to work with film.
I’d had a couple of dumb early ideas for my journal – one involved boots – that I’d rather not talk about. After reading about the block printing process, though, I got a bright idea. I wanted to create type by hand – one letter a week, one for each journal entry. Modern printers use metal lettering, but without access to a smelting furnace I figured that was a little out of reach. Wood carving was a possibility, but given that I needed 16 different letters, each fairly large, it seemed like a daunting task. Luckily, I remembered seeing my sister work with a medium that would work just fine – linoleum.
Linocuttin'
The process is pretty simple. Print a letter, trace it, flip the paper over and place it onto your linoleum, then trace it again. This transfers the pencil lead from the first tracing onto the linoleum and creates your template. From there, you painstakingly carve away the linoleum that’s outside of the letter shape and voila – instant letter block.
After some sage advice from my sister, I bought a carving tool and a couple small squares to do some experimentation. I started with one of my favorites – Garamond A. While the results didn’t turn out as clean as I hoped, I actually liked the effect. The rough edges and ink blotches were a nice change from digital perfection. I really felt that by distancing myself from the digital world, where fonts magically appear and disappear at your whim, I was gaining a better understanding and appreciation for letters.
My first journal entries were pretty dumb and pointless. Mostly I wrote about whatever I was thinking at the moment. Seeing the rough letterforms I had created, though, I had a better idea – rather than accepting the easy perfection allowed by computers, I would embrace imperfection. Each entry would deal with something that I felt was one of my own imperfections, coupled with a hand printed letter.
Pretentious? Maybe. But it sure beats boots.
COMING NEXT WEEK: THE BIG REVEAL! Ok, actually, this post is already long enough. The next part should be up in a couple of days.
