The Invisibility of Typography

Typography is, as we all know, a centuries-old art form with its roots deeply embedded in practicality: making the written word increasingly legible as part of development of printing. From this, it expanded outwards to different styles, following the demands and trends of type designers to become the saturated smorgasbord of influences the field is today. However, when focusing on those besides its designers, it becomes part of a greater whole, another tool to add to the utility belt of all designers, art directors and layout artists.

The thing is that nowadays, with so many tools at our immediate disposal, the role of typography hasn’t necessarily diminished in importance, but it’s now only one part of our arsenal. Designers nowadays seem to be much less of the over-arching specialist variety I keep hearing about from the 20th century. Sure, everybody has their one driving specialty or passion: some designers are coding wizards; others are primarily illustrators; the list of different configurations are endless. However, it seems like in order to climb the ladder of today’s creative world, you need to be a jack-of-all-trades with no one thing to solely call your own (or, you need to be so incredibly specific that you’re one of very few at that calibre in the industry).

What makes typography difficult is that it’s such an essential skill for designers to have a good grasp on, that it’s become invisible. It’s like colour: every designer worth his salt has to have a working knowledge on colour theory, palettes, combinations, emotions, etc. In some ways, this is a good thing: the more everyday designers know, the better everyday design can be. However, it still makes me wonder about the place of those who are drawn to one particular segment over another, when that segment isn’t the kind of single-skill subset which can easily be defined or related (such as web design).

The Lucky Few

The typographers who make their living working with and designing type are, to my mind, among the luckiest people in the world. They shape the emotions and practicalities of written communications the world over, yet by and large they do it for the beauty and love of it, not the power. To see the works of Spiekermann, Carter, Twombly, Frere-Jones and all the other preeminent typographers of our age is to view the work of craftsmen of the highest order. And to see the results of the efforts of the smaller foundries and students is to see the future of type design, and it makes me happy to know that the many years I have ahead of me in this business will be spent sifting through the lovely work of these artists.

Yet outside of calligraphy and wedding invitations, typography is an invisible art, and in many ways this is its strength. Similar to book design, if the common person notices type, chances are it’s because it’s been misused, is a particularly cringe-worthy typeface or impacts them in some other way. However, I can safely assume that these instances are few and far between. Yet with type, because people don’t notice it doesn’t mean it’s not impactful.

The thing with typography is that each face elicits a different emotion or mood; that much is obvious. And this is exactly its strength, purpose and mission in life: to shape the emotion or mood of somebody reading text, ideally to fit the message also conveyed by the colours, layout & images. This is not a groundbreaking discovery; it’s been talked about to no end. But it’s this subtle value which is what I find so irresistibly fetching about typography.

For the Love of It

Outside of the few hundred dedicated and full-time type designers walking the planet today, typography is not the sole way for somebody to make a living. However, it is the guiding passion for thousands of designers and other creatives because it is the perfect metaphor for why we design. It can be incredibly ornate and flowing, or completely stripped-down and simplified; every subtle variation of a bowl, counter or leg can change the mood completely. Its invisibility is its strength, as its role is to serve as the concrete base upon which the house of the project is built, setting the tone for the written word.

This is why it sums up our profession: typography sets the tone of a billboard, poster or commercial the way that a billboard, poster or commercial sets the tone for society. Its importance is inherent, and a passion for type doesn’t have to be a designer’s sole strength in order to be their greatest. It’s one of those grey-area skills which is never suited to a resume, but permeates every other part of a designer’s work and elevates it to the level of professional integrity. The designer who practices the principles of typography doesn’t make one area of their arsenal stronger, they make every area stronger.

And, to my mind, it’s the most beautiful, fascinating and inspiring portion of what design has on offer.

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The opinions expressed in this blog are entirely my own and in no way whatsoever reflect the positions of Applied Arts or anyone else I’m affiliated with.