lettering
Carnival Poster “Rescue”
Some people hoard animals in need of a good home; I hoard posters. While my friends (link 1 and link 2) were in town, we headed over to Olvera Street in downtown Los Angeles, where a street fair augmented the already-festive atmosphere of the oldest part of LA. I spotted this hard-to-miss, day-glo poster and recognized it immediately as the work of the Colby Poster Printing company. They’re still using “old school” methods to create advertising posters, including letterpress and silkscreen, and I think it’s just plain fantastic. It was posted in several places along Olvera, but I didn’t have the cojones to even ask anyone about it, much less steal a beautiful work of public literature. Luckily, my friend Noah has nerves of steel, and asked the hostess at one of the restaurants there if he could have the poster that was taped to their lectern. It was that simple. I’m going to have to do that more often.
Stylistically, the poster interests me because of the fluorescent inks (which seem silkscreened?) and the beautiful mix of type (quite possibly letterpress printed, but possibly silkscreened), from the workhorse condensed gothics, to the bifurcated Tuscan type of “CARNIVAL,” to the brilliant rising-slope “thru” sort of the date span. The archaic, cartoony illustration is clearly a product of another [um, diversity-free] era, but it’s charming and joyful nonetheless. This whole thing simply isn’t done anymore. And that’s why I love it.
Second 1958 World’s Fair Poster Restored
After restoring my 1958 Dan Reisinger poster from the Brussels World’s Fair, I immediately sent off this poster for similar treatment. Depicting the Atomium, the still-standing symbol of the 1958 Expo, this poster seems to have been issued in a number of different languages (as was the Reisinger poster). I have the German edition—Weltausstellung Brüssel. The poster is signed “D’Hooghe,” but I have not found any further information about the designer/artist.
The typeface used for “BRÜSSEL” is a very close match to Vendôme, designed by François Ganeau. Vendôme is one of my favorite serif typefaces, and has been ever since I first encountered it in The Elements of Typographic Style
François Ganeau was born in Paris and was principally a sculptor and theatre decorator with numerous public commissions to his credit. He was a friend of Maurice Olive, the proprietor of the Fonderie Olive in Marseilles, where Roger Excoffon was the chief designer. François Ganeau’s typeface Vendôme was cut at the Fonderie Olive in 1951-4. It is believed that Roger Excoffon assisted in the design of this face.
And according to U&lc:
Excoffon played a dual role in supervising the production and marketing of a new type named Vendome which had been designed for the Fonderie Olive by a stage designer named Francois Ganeau. With no previous experience of type design, Ganeau had managed to create a fine design which was refined and improved by Excoffon. To publicise it, Excoffon designed one of the most beautiful and elaborate type specimen books produced by any French typefoundry in the 1950s. It was produced by La Ruche, his favourite printing house in Paris where the craftsmen took exceptional care with their presswork and did complete justice to his unusual range of coloured inks.
Boy, I’d love to get my hands on that specimen.
The secondary type used on the poster is the much older, much more ubiquitous Franklin Gothic, and although I have not yet found an exact match for the “1958″ numerals, they belong to a family of type styles called “Swiss Gothics” according to the Photo-Lettering Alphabet Thesaurus.
Josh & Alyssa’s Album Cover Wedding Invitation
Back in November, when I posted the finished “Save the Date” postcard that Alyssa and I put together for our upcoming wedding, we still had not fully fleshed out the concept behind our actual invitation. But we did know a few things. It needed to be unusual, it need to reflect who we are, and it needed to complement (and hopefully surpass) the postcard. It would require an extraordinary amount of thought and effort behind it.
When we came up with the idea of the “gig poster”-as-save-the-date, we’d tossed around the idea of making the entire invitation set feel like music ephemera; LPs, fan club documents, badges, etc. The idea of a gatefold LP album cover felt like a natural choice for the invitation. But the size would be an issue, as we weren’t planning on mailing 12″ by 12″ envelopes. So we went with a half scale; 6″ square, folded, instead of 12″.
The design of the front cover came first. We were inspired by albums designed mostly in the 1950s through early ’60s, especially “floating head” style covers. I pored obsessively over the typography for weeks, but in a single marathon post-midnight photography session, we finally had the perfect cover portrait. Most of my experience is in panoramic photography and object photography, so I was initially intimidated by the notion of trying to pull off convincing mid-century portrait photography. We pretty much made it up as we went along. Working with a black sweatshirt as our backdrop, we used a small clamp light as our key light on the left, and, next to her face, Alyssa held up an adorable battery operated blue LED nightlight that we got at IKEA. I would set the timed shutter release, and then run back behind Alyssa, and crouch to get my head in the right position. It took a few tries to get the positioning right, but with the proper underexposure, we were able to achieve the half-lit Robert Freeman cover portrait look with plenty of negative space for copy. But by themselves, our floating heads weren’t enough to fill the cover with color. So I took another shot of our lighting setup—sans Alyssa and me—deliberately out of focus. That gave us a great colorful bokeh effect that we would overlay on top of our portraits to produce the final effect. To simulate the “big foreground portrait, small background portrait” effect, we photographed a vintage caketopper in similar lighting conditions, and overlayed that image into some of the negative space in Photoshop. Voilà.
For me, a great deal of the fun was coming up with the tiny details, like the logos and markings that help to sell the piece as an album cover. Playing off of the “Glorious Dino Vision” joke from the save-the-date postcard, I added a Dino Spectrum logo. Then we came up with the fake “Syntony” record label, based on the defunct Harmony sub-label of Columbia Records. I’m constantly tickled by the over-the-top “STEREO” announcements on old album covers, so that was front and center.
Originally we had designed the “hits” sticker to be placed on the cover design in Photoshop, with a pretty convincing bevel/drop shadow/texture to simulate the look of a real sticker. But we found the exact same size/shape sticker available in pre-cut label sheets, which we printed on ourselves and applied individually to every invitation for an extra touch of detail.
The reverse side of the “sleeve” is an amalgam of early-to-mid-1960s album backs. The two biggest immediate influences were the back side of The Beatles’ Revolver, and a Laurie Johnson LP. Along with space-filling and semi-informative copy, there are plenty of in jokes and puns to keep recipients entertained, like a track listing that corresponds half-heartedly to the timeline of the ceremony and reception. The most fun I had was with the three fictional “you might also like” thumbnail album covers at the bottom: “In Exotic Hawaii,” “Polka Frenzy!” and my favorite of all, “Moon Farm.”
Like the front side, the back side shows plenty of faux wear and tear, including the unmistakable circular ”ring wear” impression of an old LP; I’m particularly proud of that effect. In order to make it as realistic as possible, I photographed my copy of The Beatles (the White Album), and after some Photoshop witchcraft, applied its authentic patina to the design.
Alyssa's original "RSVP" sketch, à la Rubber Soul.
We tackled the gatefold inside spread last, chronologically. For the left panel, I included a sort of figure-8-mitosis-space-helmet composition based on two other photos taken during the same marathon session as the cover shot. To us, this spread was really the meat and potatoes; it had to actually function as an invitation, so we tried to make the more important content somewhat legible and obvious. Along with the right panel’s whimsical nonsense text, we placed the RSVP details inside a montage quoted almost verbatim from the back side of The Beatles’ Rubber Soul. Alyssa did some fantastic hand-lettering for the “RSVP” logo. Some of the photography came from the midnight shoot, some from our older files, and a few by our good friend Sakura Koontz. The finishing touch was the highly embarrassing shot of me-as-George-Harrison-as-cowboy.
Alyssa's original reply card sketch.
With the invitation itself complete, the reply card was our next challenge. We were originally thinking “backstage pass” or something more music-related, but Alyssa had recently found some gorgeous little vintage Cleveland bus passes on eBay. We loved the look of them, and based on the look of the bus passes, Alyssa hand sketched the design before we created the vector art on the computer. She also had the brilliant idea to make use of the “№” (numero sign) for the “No” checkbox.
To wrap everything up, literally and figuratively, we bought a supply of French Paper’s Pop-Tone envelopes in Sour Apple green. Alyssa created a “Handle with Care” linoleum block and hand printed each envelope with a metallic white ink.
"I Love the Beatles" badge
As a bonus, we threw in “I Love the Future Korwins” stickers, hand lettered, cut, and block printed by Alyssa. I love the Ed Benguiat style interlock lettering along with the couldn’t-do-this-with-a-font F+T+K ligature. The concept and colors are based on an “I Love the Beatles” pin from the ’60s.
This may be the most fun I’ve ever had on any design project… ever. For good measure, here are some additional close-ups and detail shots.
A Link to the Past
NYU Gallatin AlumniLink Mentor Program Brochure
I’ve been on a bit of a “ribbon lettering” kick lately. For this brochure/identity design, I was heavily inspired by a number of different sources, both old and new.
I wanted to conjure the notion of “link,” without using a cliché chain illustration in the process. The idea of roads and paths intersecting felt apropos to the concept of mentorship, and after doing some Wikimedia Commons research on such structures, I came up with a lettering style based on the look and feel of junctions or interchanges.
"Link" lettering, process
I wanted the composition of the piece to be simple and adaptable. For inspiration, I perused my copy of Meggs’ A History of Graphic Design (best textbook ever), and came across a simple-yet-gorgeous modernist poster by Lester Beall designed in 1937 for the Rural Electrification Administration. According to Philip Meggs, the poster was intended to be “understandable by illiterate and semi literate audiences,” and although my derivation was a bit more complex, I figured it would probably get the point across fairly easily to very literate university students.
After the basic concept was designed and approved, my brother Devin Korwin helped out with some last-minute Cassandresque shading, just as he had for the “Listening to Wine” poster.
3D Ribbon Script Lettering
I’m always looking for innovative ways to set text, and in the process of creating this postcard, I thought I’d give 3D lettering a try. I wanted to use a three-dimensional “ribbon” to mimic the movement of the pen or brush in the process of cursive writing. I also wanted to reinforce the feeling of papercraft in this piece, inspired by sophisticated pop-up books, especially given the recurring theme of Gallatin’s Alumni Day activities, “Return to the Great Books.”
While the process was somewhat laborious, it was interesting to play with 3D tools to create lettering in a somewhat unconventional way. It allowed me to direct the stroke through loops, and to tie knots inside of letters. There’s something rather Tron-like about it. Perhaps I’ll try “light cycle” lettering next time, or experiment with the smoke trails left by skywriting airplanes.
3D ribbon lettering, before red color was added
Seattle World’s Fair Platter
Souvenir platter from the Century 21 Exhibition / 1962 Seattle World’s Fair, scored on eBay.
Manzanar Sign Follow-Up
Akio Matsumoto, commercial artist. Photo by Ansel Adams.
After I posted my article about the Manzanar War Relocation Center’s entrance sign, I received this email:
Josh:
I ran across your Dec 24 entry regarding the Manzanar relocation sign. My father, who was interned there, painted the sign. He passed away four years ago but was a graphic artist who did a lot calligraphic work (even before being relocated). Ansel Adams took several pictures of him (see this link).
He had many books containing various fonts. I donated many of them to the Cerritos Library when he passed away. However, I don’t think that the font he used for the Manzanar sign was in them since he wasn’t able to take much with him to the relocation center.
FYI: Another person who worked in the Manzanar sign shop was Jack Hirose (see this link).
Regards,
Mark
So this information, frankly, changes a lot about what I had originally hypothesized. For one, unless Mr. Matsumoto was told to use a specific lettering style, it was probably his choice to use the blackletter face. And if so, it’s more likely that it was an effort towards beautification, rather than propaganda. Many of those who were forced to live at Manzanar had created gardens, murals, and other creative works to improve the look and feel of what was otherwise a barren and austere place. I suppose then that the “Alpine Resort” feel could have been closer to what the artist was going for, not for propaganda, but in a “making-the-best-of-it” sort of way.
Thanks very much to Mark Matsumoto for sharing his father’s story.
What’s in a Font—The Manzanar War Relocation Center Sign
Manzanar War Relocation Center Sign (close up)
Update (January 5, 2010): After posting this article, I received an email from Mark Matsumoto, whose father, Akio Matsumoto, was a commercial artist interned at Manzanar during the War. According to Mark, Akio Matsumoto was the person who painted the sign. Needless to say, this information drastically affects my original theories about the sign’s lettering! I’ve posted a follow-up with more information.
I just returned from a brief vacation to Mammoth Mountain, and on the way back down to Los Angeles we stopped at the Manzanar National Historic Site, former home to the Manzanar “War Relocation Center,” an American concentration camp for thousands of Japanese-Americans during World War II. Despite Manzanar’s picturesque location, the site is a haunting reminder of just how bad things can become when the U.S. ignores its constitution.
Many comparisons have been made between the Americans’ use of concentration camps and those used by the Nazis. With this in mind, I was struck by the lettering used on the Manzanar entrance sign, which bears resemblance to the blackletter styles appropriated by the Nazis during the first years of the second World War. The Nazi party’s use of these blackletter forms was very much a purposeful message (for more information on the topic I would recommend reading Iron Fists: Branding the 20th-Century Totalitarian State by Steven Heller). It seems odd that, at the same time as the United States was at war with Germany, and even detaining German-Americans at camps like Manzanar, the US government would use lettering evocative of the Third Reich. I decided to do some surface-level research to find out more about this lettering decision.
First, I wanted to determine the origin of the lettering style. It appears to be a simplified blackletter, more contemporary than traditional, a modernist version of a Rotunda. After searching through many, many fonts online, I could not find an exact match in digitized form. But perhaps I was using the wrong sign.
Manzanar War Relocation Center Sign
Apparently, the sign that stands at Manzanar today is a fairly faithful replica of the original, which was photographed by Ansel Adams in 1943:
Manzanar sign, photo by Ansel Adams
However, upon closer comparison between the replica and the original, I’ve noticed a few subtle differences:
- The “M” has a bit of a downward slope in the replica which is not present in the original.
- The letter spacing was somewhat tighter on the original, with the exception of “CENTER,” which is more generously spaced in the original than in the replica.
- The shape of the “R” is wider in the original, and appears condensed in the replica.
Seidelburg Heavy (Photo-Lettering)
I then checked my Photo-Lettering Alphabet Thesaurus, Vol. 2, and found a very close match to the original sign’s lettering in “Seidelburg Heavy” (at right). In Life with Letters, Ed Rondthaler of Photo-Lettering, Inc. provides evidence that his company’s letterforms were used extensively by the U.S. government and military during World War II. In fact, their flagship typeface, Murray Hill Gothic, was used in countless propaganda posters and solicitations for war bonds. It wouldn’t be a stretch, then, to think that perhaps the lettering for the Manzanar sign was chosen out of Photo-Lettering’s offerings and subsequently hand carved in wood. Any irregularities, therefore, could have been artistic choices on the part of the signmaker.
So that is my hypothesis. But then why choose a typeface loaded with Germanic connotations at the same time as America was at war with the Germans? And if the U.S. government was trying to lighten the public perception of what Manzanar was, by using euphemisms like “resettlement” and “relocation” rather than “concentration” or “internment,” it would be counterproductive for them to use signage that resembled that of the enemy.
It’s possible, though, that they just didn’t get it. After all, the U.S. didn’t enter German territory until after D-Day, and so perhaps the connection was not yet made when Manzanar was constructed. It’s also strange that they used a blackletter face in all caps; it’s still legible, but it’s not really in line with how the Nazis usually typeset their blackletter headlines (with the exception of acronyms, e.g. “NSDAP”). But there’s also the possibility that the government wanted to draw a non-political connection between Manzanar’s Alpinesque landscape and that of Northern Europe. Perhaps, in a more sinister way, they wanted to dress up Manzanar as a resort destination, rather than a detainment camp. Playful Gothic lettering is frequently found in period restaurant signage, hotels, ski resorts, and pretty much anywhere that an “Old World” feel is sought. So with that in mind, the Manzanar sign could have been subtle propaganda.
The lettering might have also felt en vogue. The lettering face used also shares a lot in common, geometrically, with some of the faces popular during the 1940s. Here are some images from the Smithsonian’s A More Perfect Union online exhibit, from Camp Amache (another detainment camp like Manzanar):
Amache Midsummer Carnival sign
Resettlement Handbook cover, Granada / Amache
Amache Sign
While the sans-serif lettering styles used in these examples are distinctly 1940s in their appearance, their forms and all-caps presentation share similarities with the simplified blackletter of Seidelburg Heavy. Note the unicase “M”s and “N”s, as well as the parallel legs of the “A”s. Maybe the modernized blackletter simply appeared to be of the times.
Lettering carries meaning. It’s not simply a transparent way of communicating words. I think it’s important that we as designers carefully consider the lettering and type styles that we use, especially in historical context, as their educated use can be far more meaningful than their haphazard and casual application.
As always, I’d be happy to hear from anybody who has more insight into this than my hasty research has unearthed. I’ll gladly update this article with corrections or as I learn more12.
- I’ve added a post on the PictureBubbles° Blog with a spherical panorama of Manzanar Cemetery. [↩]
- As mentioned above, a reader has updated me with further information; please see the follow-up post here. [↩]
More vintage matchbooks
After the last treasure trove of matchbooks I came across, the idea of starting a collection of my own has been on my radar. I found a few on eBay that were from Torrance, California, the current location of three steps ahead and a subject of particular interest to me. The same seller had a bunch of interesting ones, so I figured I’d scoop up as many as I could.
Josh & Alyssa Wedding “Save the Date” Postcard
My fiancée Alyssa and I are not typical when it comes to our wedding planning. For one thing, we’re getting married at an unconventional venue, the Los Angeles Natural History Museum. Moreover, we both work in design, and there’s no chance in heck that we’d buy any prepackaged save-the-dates or invitations. No sir. So we’ve spent the better part of the year planning out how our wedding will look, from the décor to the communications, and the first component of this gigantic undertaking is the “Save the Date” postcard that you see before you.
Original photographs that became our silhouettes (Photo by Sakura Koontz)
We want our wedding to feel like a party. Not just any party, mind you; more like a 1960s-concert-in-the-park-meets-prehistoric-hipster-safari. Or something like that. We’ve been scouting inspiration from far and wide, and one of the first ideas that hit us was to create a “gig poster” or a vintage-style handbill to inform our potential guests of the basic logistics in advance of the invitation. I’ve designed a whole bunch of save-the-date postcards for Gallatin at NYU (as you can see on the portfolio), but this was obviously a lot more personal. We decided it would be an adventure to silkscreen the invitations ourselves using the “split fountain” technique. It was a popular method of decoration for old concert or boxing posters, but it was usually used in the background to create a bright, colorful gradient on which black type would be set and printed on a letterpress. To stick with the theme, I used a combination of different type and lettering styles, some of which mimic the rough letterpress style of printers like Hatch Show Print in Nashville and Colby Poster Printing Co. here in Los Angeles. Other lettering comes from House’s Photo-Lettering site, such as the “Save the Date” script at the top. We referenced old show prints as well as movie posters (for the “Dino Vision” logo, a pretty blatant rip of the Cinerama logo and the Sinclair dinosaur mark. For the central silhouette illustration, we combined vector traces of two photographs taken by our good friend Sakura Koontz.
The process was remarkably smooth. We’d both done some screenprinting on t-shirts before, but neither of us had any hands-on experience with serigraphy on paper. The stock we chose is French Paper’s Mod-Tone in gray, which comes with a pre-printed pattern. We designed the card to be printed without bleed, 2-up on an 8.5″ by 11″ letter-sized page, allowing us to make a very simple cut and end up with a finished product. (We printed the back side on the cheap using inkjet). Using a Photoshop mockup of the design, we determined that Pantone Orange and Rubine Red would make a nice, yummy “Tequila Sunrise” gradient. Our comp wasn’t far off the mark, but the real-life result was far better than the digital version. Before we knew it, we’d printed up about 150 of them. The right side of the screen had some imperfections in the emulsion which led to some interesting artifacts, while the left side was nearly perfect. I think the variation between different prints is one of the beautiful and lively aspects of hand-printed serigraphs. So even though we sacrifice a bit of legibility, I think we’ve really hit the mark with our attempt at creating a vintage, imperfect look.
Tune in some months from now to see what we do with our invitation!1
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- Ed Rondthaler's Life with letters …as they turned photogenic
- House Industries: The Book
- Iron Fists: Branding the 20th-Century Totalitarian State by Steven Heller
- Meggs' History of Graphic Design
- Paul Renner: The Art of Typography by Christopher Burke
- The Alphabet Thesaurus, Vol. 2
- The Elements of Typographic Style by Robert Bringhurst
- The Graphic Artists Guild Handbook