kepler: 17 of 20

I hate Robert Slimbach – I really do.

Never met him, mind you; he’s probably a very nice guy. But I hate him just the same. It’s the irrationally contentious side of me, competing in arenas wherein I don’t even play at all, that fuels such misguided enmity. I hate Tiger Woods, Johnny Depp, and Michael Dell, too.

In Slimbach’s case, it’s the multiplicative product of perfection and prolificacy that enrages me; his supreme skill and prodigious output are astonishing almost to the point of absurdity. Indeed, my antipathy toward him has been tempered only slightly of late by an indulgence in the prospect that he may not actually exist. After all, I’ve never seen him. Have you? The photo on the website: Digital deceit. This leads me to posit that Slimbach is nothing more than a façade fabricated by the marketing masterminds at Adobe and to assert, therefore, that he is, in all likelihood, a whole team of font designers. In short, the Nicolas Bourbaki of type. We’ve seen it before: Homer, Shakespeare, Betty Crocker – and now a so-called Robert Slimbach.

That said, the Slimbach Society’s Kepler is not nearly as ubiquitous as their Garamond or Minion, but it is arguably just as well crafted and versatile. Far more fluid than its romantic counterparts, it is nevertheless commonly categorized as a “modern” face. I’d prefer to call it another kind of transitional – an 18th century design that could not have been produced without the heavy dose of humanism that only the 20th century could have provided. A font, therefore, that could have been drawn only by a team of accomplished artists who share a deep understanding of history, a love for the letterform, and an unrivaled ability.

Truly, over the last 17 years, the fabled font-hydra has influenced book typography more than any other living entity: At least seven of the Society’s designs have become near-instant archetypes. I choose, use, and champion their typefaces on a continual basis. Alas, the acknowledgement of Robert Slimbach as a cabbalistic collective does little to dilute my dispassion. For as much as I wish I could play their game, I likely never shall.

And so I hate the Slimbachians with every fiber of my being. No, I’ve never met them, mind you; they’re probably very nice people. But I hate them just the same.

17-March 2004