Because I like fonts. Okay?
The Font
Next post: Demolition Man: Dinner at Taco Bell, San Angeles 2032
Previous post: The Fear
WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
Welcome to the New American Digest: 2003-2020
He thought he kept the universe alone;
For all the voice in answer he could wake
Was but the mocking echo of his own
From some tree-hidden cliff across the lake.
Some morning from the boulder-broken beach
He would cry out on life, that what it wants
Is not its own love back in copy speech,
But counter-love, original response.
And nothing ever came of what he cried
Unless it was the embodiment that crashed
In the cliff’s talus on the other side,
And then in the far distant water splashed,
But after a time allowed for it to swim,
Instead of proving human when it neared
And someone else additional to him,
As a great buck it powerfully appeared,
Pushing the crumpled water up ahead,
And landed pouring like a waterfall,
And stumbled through the rocks with horny tread,
And forced the underbrush–and that was all.
Gerard Van der Leun
When all Earth’s seas shall Levitate,
Dark shawled within the skies,
Upon our eyes will Starfish dance
Their waltz of Blind surprise.
The sun will Rise within wine Dark
As Argonauts imbibed,
Whose drunken arms embrace that sleep
Where Phaeton’s horses Stride.
Upon all of Earth’s wind-sanded shores,
As dolphins Learn to soar,
All we once were on the land
Shall be sealed behind the door
Of Ivory and Chastened Gold,
That the Mystery solved complete
Shall never til the seas’ Long fall
Wake mariners from their sleep.
— Van der Leun
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this
air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
— Walt Whitman
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
— The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot
Comments on this entry are closed.
I was liking on cooper black before hardly anybody knew what it was. In the 80’s I had pre-printed sheets (24″x36″ & 30″x42″) of Crystalene vellum and double matte mylar professionally printed with the company titleblocks and borders and cooper black was the font used for the primary lettering. The same with done with all the company paper products, invoices, envelopes, etc. When I transitioned to CAD in the late 90’s so did the lettering style, to Graphite because cooper black was looking too bulky. 20+ years later I am still using Graphite. Maybe it’s time for another change….
I have discovered new realms of joy with the fountain pen with a flex nib and a modified Spencerian script. But sometimes it’s La Ronde or Palmer Business hand. Bliss. The gods of the copybook headings must be smiling on me.
Cooper Black is a comforting blowback to the 80s…nice for headlines but please bring back a nice Souvenir Medium for copy. Like a fine wine. No one uses it anymore.
My career in doing graphic design bridged the Letraset/computer based medium. I started working by hand using various methods of applying text and led the process of moving my company over to computer based design environment. The hardware back then was in today’s terms, primitive, but managed to get the job done. Now, everything is computer based and we have access to thousands of fonts. Even so, there is a enduring quality to fonts like Cooper Bold that has not faded with time.
I do too.
I actually ran a linotype machine for a while 30 years ago, probably 30 years after their time. I am still enamored by those machines.
All mechanical! An arm would come down and grab the just used line of letters and punctuation (called matrices) and carry it up to the top of the machine. A rod would push the used matrices hanging over the canister (magazine) where a binary code would sort the recycled letters dropping them into the proper slot to be reused again and again automatically!
The ETAOIN SHURDLU keyboard arranged so the most common letters were all together was amazing. Just push a button and that matrix (letter or punctuation) would slide down a chute and take its place as the next letter in the line. Then there were the proportional spacing spaces that grew to fill up the line as needed. When you finished typing a line, every letter was in order forming a mold for that line of type. You pulled a lever and molten metal was pumped into the line filling every letter to form a line for printing.
If you didn’t put enough proportional spaces to fill up the line, then metal would squirt between a few letters and make a mess of things. But if the line was done right, the metal, just cool enough to be solid now, fell into a tray atop the previous line you made. The arm came down to take the spent letters back up to the top to be reused. Fascinating!
You could clearly see everything that was happening but it was still like magic. If there was a mistake in a line, you just pulled that line, a strip of metal, out of the group, and tossed it into the pot where it would melt and be reused. Then you just retyped the line to fix the mistake. I once tossed a line into the pot and it splashed a bit. A drop flew up and hit me in the eye, right at the tear duct. Didn’t do any damage, but I hate to think what would have happened if it had landed a quarter-inch to the left.
Excellent post, BroKen. And then there was the smell off the linotype. Machine oil and molten metal.
BroKen’s comment embodies one of the reasons for my nom-de-cyberspace. I miss analogue technology because most people could, after some quite straightforward, often quite elementary training, understand and apply it, and because analogue technology provided millions of jobs at which people found they made a useful contribution they could be proud of, and at which they earned a living wage with which they could afford the American Dream for themselves and their families.