If you pay attention to my photographs, I usually sign my name on each image, usually somewhere in the lower right hand corner, shadows permitting. I have a Photoshop action that selects the font tool, and types out my signature in a new layer. I use the Move tool, and drag the signature somewhere not too obnoxious.
Way back in the dark ages of the internet, there was a small company that advertised in various computer magazines. Basically, for $30 (I think), you drew out each letter in the alphabet, upper case and lower case, numbers, some additional characters, and your signature. RAILhead Fonts hand-coded a personal font for you in Macromedia Fontographer, and then sent it to you as a TrueType font on a floppy disc. Since the formats of fonts haven’t changed significantly, I can still use that font on my current computer, over 15 years later.
They did a decent job capturing my scrawl, I do still write almost like this:
A few letters from my handwrithing font.PNG
There are other methods of signing your image – you could scan a piece of paper that you signed and use that as a stamp. Or even take a digital photograph and use that. Or use a tablet, etc. My way is preferable, and scaleable, since fonts are vectors, I can change the size of the signature so that it is proportional to the photograph.
This whole concept of “good welfare” and “bad welfare” is at the heart of the Tea Party ideology, and it’s something that is believed implicitly across the line. It’s why so many of their political champions, like Miller, and sniveling Kentucky rich kid Rand Paul (a doctor whose patient base is 50% state insured), and Nevada “crazy juice” Senate candidate Sharron Angle (who’s covered by husband Ted’s Federal Employee Health Plan insurance), are so completely unapologetic about taking state aid with one hand and jacking off angry pseudo-libertarian mobs with the other.
In the middle of Gotham, our family of 66 sans serifs, there is a hushed but surprising moment: a fraction whose numerator has a serif. So important was this detail that we decided to offer it as an option for all the other fractions, a decision that ultimately required more than 400 new drawings. Why?
As you’ll read below, it’s something that we added because we felt it mattered. Even if it helped only a small number of designers solve a subtle and esoteric problem, we couldn’t rest knowing that an unsettling typographic moment might otherwise lie in wait. We’ve always believed that a good typeface is the product of thousands of decisions like these, so we invite you to join us on a behind-the-scenes look at some of the invisible details that go into every font from H&FJ.
20 of the 200-pound boxes have been stolen in recent weeks, with most of the thefts happening in Area 5. Both the Police Department and Chicago Parking Meters LLC have said that the thefts are being treated seriously and will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
There are days when I miss working in an office with other people, and not just with cats and computers.
Listen up. I know the shit you’ve been saying behind my back. You think I’m stupid. You think I’m immature. You think I’m a malformed, pathetic excuse for a font. Well think again, nerdhole, because I’m Comic Sans, and I’m the best thing to happen to typography since Johannes fucking Gutenberg.
I’d love to print this entire rant and leave it out by the coffee machine. Sigh.
People love me. Why? Because I’m fun. I’m the life of the party. I bring levity to any situation. Need to soften the blow of a harsh message about restroom etiquette? SLAM. There I am. Need to spice up the directions to your graduation party? WHAM. There again. Need to convey your fun-loving, approachable nature on your business’ website? SMACK. Like daffodils in motherfucking spring.
When people need to kick back, have fun, and party, I will be there, unlike your pathetic fonts. While Gotham is at the science fair, I’m banging the prom queen behind the woodshop. While Avenir is practicing the clarinet, I’m shredding “Reign In Blood” on my double-necked Stratocaster. While Univers is refilling his allergy prescriptions, I’m racing my tricked-out, nitrous-laden Honda Civic against Tokyo gangsters who’ll kill me if I don’t cross the finish line first. I am a sans serif Superman and my only kryptonite is pretentious buzzkills like you.
A few years back, Jasper Bear, one of The Globe’s founders (I designed their logo), gave me a wonderful book called “The 26 Letters” by Oscar Ogg, which was all about the development of the 26 letters of today’s alphabet. Jasper knows I’m a font geek (ahem, “letterforms enthusiast”) from way back.
Anyway, the book’s retelling of St. Patrick’s story was interesting, not only because of his escape from his Roman captors, but because of his invention:
St. Patrick invented lower case letters.
In Ireland, a Celtic land, people used an uncial alphabet. It kind of looks like the writing on the Lord of the Rings cover. When the Christians came with the Bible, it was written in a Roman alphabet, which at the time was all upper-case, like the writing you see on buildings.
St. Patrick devised a transitional alphabet designed to serve between the Roman and Uncial alphabets. Today we call it lower case.