FF Spinoza — A nice looking new type family designed by New York-based art director Max Phillips:
With the goal of readability in mind, Phillips named the typeface after 17th century rationalist and lens-grinder Baruch Spinoza, a man whose job it was to help people see clearly.
The family is meant as an elegant workhorse, a classic text family with just enough individual character to hold its own in display sizes. It was inspired by mid-century German book faces like Trump Mediæval and Aldus, and by the types of Nicolas Kis. The forms are narrow and economical, with open counters. The line is firm and distinct. It has strong thick strokes and serifs to help it grip the page. Its intended virtues are firmness, clarity and modesty.
Interestingly, Phillips is also author of the Shamus Award-winning mystery Fade to Blonde, and co-founder of the pulp-infused Hard Case Crime imprint.
Sign Manual — The New Yorker takes a look at Helvetica and the New York City Subway System by Paul Shaw:
Though Helvetica was always the choice font for typographic synchronization, it was simply too expensive to ship over from Amsterdam, where it was made (back in the days of metal type, lead font plates had to be imported, a costly endeavor, since the plates had to be custom manufactured to fit American printing presses). In the early sixties (much like today) New York City Transit just didn’t have the money. Instead, the MTA used a similar font called Standard, or Akzidenz-Grotesk, which took nineteen years to fully phase out. It wasn’t until 1989 that the MTA officially ratified the decision to replace it with Helvetica in its “Sign Manual.”
The review is accompanied by a slideshow of images from the book.
Something Irretrievably Lost — Rob Young, former editor of The Wire magazine, talks about his latest book Electric Eden: Unearthing Britain’s Visionary Music with Mark Thwaite at ReadySteadyBlog:
[T]here will always be a tradition, running underneath the more visible forms of pop and rock music. At certain times it comes into focus and is a fairly hip reference point for various artists; at other times – much of the 80s and early 90s, for example – it’s practically invisible and/or unredeemable.
Right now we’re on an upswing, possible as an inevitable reaction to the huge leaps forward in digital and electronic music in the 90s; also because, when making or locating all sorts of music has become so easy and accessible, there’s a certain nostalgia for an indefinable organic quality to the production and a sense that music can be about more than purely formal concerns. This, I’m sure, is connected at some instinctive level with the destabilising effects of recent political developments here. It’s very noticeable that folk revivals tend to occur when people are afraid of something being irretrievably lost.
The Computational Process — Ted Striphas, author of The Late Age of Print, on the distinction between ‘“algorithmic culture” and “culturomics”:
I must confess to being intrigued by culturomics… Having said that, I still want to hold onto the idea of algorithmic culture. I prefer the term because it places the algorithm center-stage rather than allowing it to recede into the background, as does culturomics. Algorithmic culture encourages us to see computational process not as a window onto the world but as an instrument of order and authoritative decision making. The point of algorithmic culture, both terminologically and methodologically, is to help us understand the politics of algorithms and thus to approach them and the work they do more circumspectly, even critically.
And finally…
Just a reminder that the late and final deadline for AIGA’s reinstated 50 Books/50 Covers is April 21, 2011.
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P. J. Harvey
