Most of the time they don’t. The old adage ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’ comes to mind and it’s bold, but common assertion that the packaging doesn’t matter because it’s what’s inside that counts. But I want to argue that the packaging of letters – or the way that letters look makes all of the difference.
To a certain extent we all understand this. It’s the same impulse that makes us wear a tie or skirt to an interview, but sweatpants to binge watch parks and rec. It feels almost too obvious to say that certain clothes are more appropriate for certain situations, but when I tell people I like typography (or the art of font as image), their first question is always ‘so what’s your favorite font’ as though one is sufficient in every situation.
I’m drawn to how this question always feels like an assessment of personality – and the wrong answer has the potential for consequences. Who’s going to take the guy who says his favorite font is comic sans seriously? Because whether we think about it regularly or not, each typeface is embedded with meanings and associations that communicate intentions to the world. We attach what we know to the lines and curves of letterforms without necessarily thinking much about it.
This project is an investigation into my typographic aesthetic in an attempt to understand what associations I’m bringing to each typeface and the ways in which I privilege some of those associations over others. Most basically, it's a way of understanding how my choices and my understanding of those choices telegraph my intentions, even the ones I'm not always conscious that I'm expressing. The experience is best read left to right.
To a certain extent we all understand this. It’s the same impulse that makes us wear a tie or skirt to an interview, but sweatpants to binge watch parks and rec. It feels almost too obvious to say that certain clothes are more appropriate for certain situations, but when I tell people I like typography (or the art of font as image), their first question is always ‘so what’s your favorite font’ as though one is sufficient in every situation.
I’m drawn to how this question always feels like an assessment of personality – and the wrong answer has the potential for consequences. Who’s going to take the guy who says his favorite font is comic sans seriously? Because whether we think about it regularly or not, each typeface is embedded with meanings and associations that communicate intentions to the world. We attach what we know to the lines and curves of letterforms without necessarily thinking much about it.
This project is an investigation into my typographic aesthetic in an attempt to understand what associations I’m bringing to each typeface and the ways in which I privilege some of those associations over others. Most basically, it's a way of understanding how my choices and my understanding of those choices telegraph my intentions, even the ones I'm not always conscious that I'm expressing. The experience is best read left to right.