RORY DOT BE

Safety First

There may have been a point in time, so very long ago, an appropriate and almost-but-not-quite-charming context in which to use Comic Sans. That time is not now. Nor shall it ever be any future now, then, or any time at all. It might hurt a little to say so, but if you are considering using The-Font-That‑Must-Not-Be-Named, you’re probably better off sticking to Times New Roman. TNR itself was once a proud bastion of contemporary British typography. That time was 1931, when it was commissioned for The Times newspaper, and it is now best used for filling that brief interval between opening up Word and changing the font to something that is not Times New Roman.

Once upon a time, Times New Roman was a high‑contrast serif typeface with a large x‑height that made it perfect for squashing onto the tight, poorly‑printed pages of a newspaper. Now, it screams apathy and indifference. It might not get noticed, but in most cases, getting noticed is fairly conducive to your writing being read.

What Your Font Says About You

In 2004, and in a rare blogospherical win, documents purported to be conclusive evidence of George W. Bush’s non-patriotism during his military service in the 1970s were found to have been typed circa 2004 in Microsoft Word using every default setting in the book. Due to a lack of evidence—forged or otherwise—of any time-travelling paperclips, Dan Rather was made to retract his assurances that the documents had been authenticated by CBS experts. What he had meant, it seems, was that the documents had been photocopied enough to look kind of old, and they didn’t think anyone would notice anyway.

Jack Yan, founder of Lucire magazine, Vic alumnus, and general typographical wizard, goes even further. “The Killian memoranda were so obvious—there were ‘experts’ arguing it was done in Times New Roman. Dumbasses. It was set in Linotype Times, on an Apple Laserwriter or an equivalent. ‘But,’ argued Dan Rather on CBS, ‘Times New Roman was designed in 1932.’ Yes, but they didn’t have laser printers in the 1970s. I think he got in some typewriter repairman to attest to this. That would be like getting a mechanic to identify the paint colour on a car.”

Unfortunately for 60 Minutes, people did notice, and people do; what your font says about you turns out to be rather a lot. Looking bad is often synonymous with looking just plain boring, and your 1.25 inch default margins tend to be a dead giveaway that you’re not very good at paying attention to details.

If you say a word often enough, it loses any semblance of meaning. If you use a font often enough, much the same happens. When you switch from Times New Roman to Arial, you’re making a conscious decision to change from an overused serif that has long since lost any punch it once had, to a young Helvetica clone, bought on the cheap by Microsoft, who didn’t want to spring for any royalties. “Arial is for losers,” Yan says. “You can’t expect a typeface based around a British design stretched to Swiss widths to work. It would be like putting spotted dick into a kilo of cheese.”

That Verdana you’re using converts nicely to on-screen pixels, but looks primitive and unrefined when put to paper—just ask the brains behind IKEA’s latest typographic fumble. Your Courier New might make a more convincing 1970s typewriter than Dan Rather’s copy of Office 97, but even the US Government has recently upgraded—though exasperatingly only to TNR. You might think that 18pts is a great way to come off as if you’ve more to say than you really do, but unless you’re looking for flatmates you might want to try a touch of subtlety. And this is before you discover the novelty fonts.

Hinting

Of course, it would be rude to criticise without offering advice. The average person shouldn’t be expected to spring for font families worth the average GDP of medium-sized countries. Keep away from Lorenzo Uomo when the Salvation Army is almost giving away suits. If you’re on a PC, have a play with Eric Gill’s Perpetua, a delicate wee thing that was good enough for Barack Obama’s unexpectedly good typographic campaign. Georgia, commissioned for Microsoft, sits well on-screen, and will feel far stronger than Times New Roman and its unfortunate familiarity.

If you’re on a Mac, you’re lucky enough to possess Hoefler Text, a contemporary classical serif with all sorts of lovely features you’ll probably never need or discover. With Adobe Reader (which you almost certainly have) you’ll have received Minion, another recent serif perfectly adept at freshening up your writing.

A pleasant side-effect of Google’s recent Android venture is the Droid family of typefaces that came out of it. A charming family of serifs and sans-serifs alike, they’re easily Google-able. If you really can’t handle serifs (those little flicky things on the end of letters) have a quick browse for Myriad or Calibri, depending on the colour of the warm, humming box you’re typing into. Spice things up with some 11pt instead of Word’s suggested 12, bring in those margins so I’ve somewhere to put my thumbs as I chastise you, and please, please stop using WordArt.

Amateurism at its Finest

You might even have an advantage over those who’ve studied this stuff their entire lives. David Buck, a local designer with international credentials, says some of his favourite typography often comes from people who don’t have a clue what they’re doing. “I like seeing something like a ‘Garage Sale’ sign, and thinking: ‘How’d they come up with that?’, or ‘How did they think that letter was supposed to look like that?’ My favourite type is always going to be interesting work done by amateurs.”

Don’t always assume the computer knows what it’s doing. Don’t give that insidious paper clip the satisfaction of its Machiavellian exploits. Get off the computer every now and then and write something by hand. Remember that? That’s cramp and it’s probably about time you had some. Realise that 12pt isn’t the only way and that letters can be as expressive as the words they describe. You might even enjoy it.

The Bit at the End

Every discipline likes to imagine itself as far beyond the understanding of the proletariat, and in most cases there might be at least a glimmer of truth to that. However, with current tools, acceptable or even admirable typography shouldn’t be beyond the means of anyone. When an entire creative discipline suddenly finds itself in the hands of the common people, some emergency education must be done—but it also offers up the chance for a whole new world of intrigue and means of expression.

Your marks will improve, Real Groovy will call back, and people other than your flatmates will finally be able to taste that cheese ball recipe you’ve been refining. Just don’t use walnuts—no one likes those.

Things typographers will make fun of you for doing

Using Trajan. You’re not a movie, and if you are, you should probably know better than to use Trajan.

Anyone’s ‘Hand’. You’re not fooling anyone, you didn’t write this by hand. Why would you? Blow out those candles and remove the corset—your accidental American spelling is a dead giveaway.

Novelty fonts. The classier ones call themselves ‘display’ fonts. Great in small doses for main titles, daunting for walls of text.
When your work looks like a ransom note. Not just because it’s horrific, but because the collection of fonts you’ve downloaded from Dafont.com is unique to you and might get you pinned in court.

Grunge, or ‘distressed’ fonts. As great as your writing is, you’re not Banksy, and there’s no need to make it look like it’s written on the side of a building.

Pages: 1 2