In one or several posts I have shared how bad I used to be at typography. To me, it was like a different language all together. Being bilingual, feeling like I could not understand the nuances of typography bothered me. How can something I could see, read, and understand cognitively was so difficult for me to express visually? What was it about letters that was both so infuriating and yet so captivating?
When I returned to college I was taking classes with students who had a working knowledge of the computer and software. Some had been exposed to design in high school. My experience was different. For once, it had never occurred to me that typography could be more than a functional and utilitarian tool at the service of language. Graphic design and typography was not something I knew. Before computers, graphic design was commonly addressed as commercial art. My neighbor back home, was a commercial artist at Sears. He showed me the weekly shoppers that they’d do in the studio.
What my heart desired, was to be an architect. Though that did not work out, I could see the poetry in designing buildings, their lines in the space, the spaces with natural light, and the flow and dance of each side in its surroundings. Especially around the ocean. My grandmother was a nurse at a hospital across the street of the ocean. That contrast was remarkable to me. The sterile floors and walls against the breeze and smell of the sea made for memorable memories. But typography did not evoke any feelings for me. I knew nothing about typography.
Eventually I started to see that typography is much more than a utilitarian tool in service of language. There is an eloquence and an art to it, a finesse. And maybe even, a love affair. In many ways it is like architecture. Instead of designing buildings in the space, we design words that dance in the space. How did I come to see typography this way? It was not without its bumps and failures. I needed to be guided to learn to look, to learn to think, and to learn to design. I did not know what I needed and thus, I did not know what to ask. One instructor however, said something to me that changed my perception of typography. Her name is Cheri Ure.
My sketches and computer iterations while I was working on a type and image project back then, were less than stellar. In a critique, Cheri approached me and said:
“How would you say these words out loud if you were rehearsing to be cast in a play that you wanted really, really, bad? How would you intonate them? Where would your emphasis be? Do it alone in your house, and take note of how your tone changes and that is where the visual hierarchy is.“
Those words resonated with me profoundly. I started to repeat the words of my text over and over. I even had music going on in my mind. I started to get a hint of how typography is poetry. I started to see the words not as utilitarian tools but as something that makes an image out of meaning. It exhilarated me.
There are many aspects of typography but poetry, visual poetry has to be included as one of them. Of course, we can discuss its function. As many famous designers have stated, typography’s primary function is to make a language visible. On that note, let’s imagine all of us talking to each other in a dry, plain, matter of fact, utilitarian, and monotone voice. No changes in intonation, no changes in pitch, and no changes to express sadness or happiness. Reading in a monotone voice. Laughing in a monotone manner. Praying in a monotone state. Telling each other how much we love each other in a monotone voice. But monotone is not how we are or act, is it?
If function is all we understand about typography and it was something similar to what is on the dreaded tax forms, how dry things would be!
Typography is then more than a tool. Typography expresses the lyricism of the language, conveys the meaning of our words, communicates the love we profess for another, and visually captures meaning to make words sing, flow, fly, dance, and emote. If function is all we understand about typography and it was something similar to how is displayed on the dreaded tax forms, how dry things would be!
Typography unifies language with meaning in a tangible manner. Sometimes it can even be visceral connection elevating our words to a phenomenological experience.
To say that I have grown to love typography is an understatement. I am obsessed with it. I see letters and experience feelings, thoughts, ideas, and reactions. I see nuances that others can’t and I feel them vividly. All because the one metaphor that unlocked something in me and allowed me to see what I was not able to see before.
I will share below the before and after of the project I was working on when Cheri helped me. I keep these because they remind me that unlike color and shape, it takes a change of mind to understand typography. The text was from Luke 18. It talks about letting the children go and talk to Jesus and not to hinder them. I wanted to convey that sometimes being transparent as a child is the best way to be.
I still want to learn more typography. There is so much to learn.
The before:
And after I started to understand typography as poetry:
I learned that typographic control in the space—be it on a page, on a webpage, on an app, on a banner, or on a billboard— is essential. Much like the ballerina learns to control her poses, moves, arms, and body to move gracefully, typographic control is needed to make the words dance on the page. We learn control by studying it in a combination of observing and practicing. We learn because that is what we are wired to do. Speed is irrelevant.
Typography, well executed typography is to me the poetry we need to sprinkle our lives with. After all, typography unifies language with meaning in a tangible manner. Sometimes it can even be visceral connection elevating our words to a phenomenological experience.
Alma Hoffmann is a freelance designer, design educator, author of Sketching as Design Thinking, and editor at Smashing Magazine. This was originally posted on Temperamental amusing shenanigans, Alma’s Substack dedicated to design, life, and everything in between.
All imagery © Alma Hoffmann.