confession...
I’ve been having an affair, you see.
And my wife has known about it right from the start. At first,
she tolerated it, even as its markers made themselves manifest
around the house at a steadily increasing rate. It went on like
this for a year or so.
Then – and I found this to be most puzzling – she began to
encourage it here and there. Curiously, her reaction served
to revitalize the affair, to provide it with a newfound lustre,
at a point when its thrill had just begun to wane.
And now? Well, I have to laugh, because at present, she actually
condones it, and even helps to fund it. She’ll occasionally ask,
“What’s new? Anything I don’t know about?” And at that, I’ll haul
out the evidence, pictures and all, and she’ll just page through
with a wide smile on her face.
You must realize, dear reader, that it is all harmless, really,
though it does occasionally keep me up late and distracts me to
no end. It’s only an affair of sorts, and if you must know, the
object of my after-hours amour is...the Design Within Reach (DWR) catalog.
After everyone else has gone to bed, it’s just the catalog and me,
and oh, how I pore over its pages! It, and everything in it, is
exactly what I want.
Invariably, during the course of one of our late-night rendezvous,
I will close my eyes and see: my big butt planted firmly in an Eames
Lounge Chair; my scores of inscrutable jottings, together with used
Kleenexes, intertwined atop a Prism Table; my slumbering,
five-foot-nine-inch frame, sprawled like a dead fish across a
Leggero Bed; my muddled thoughts measured and diagrammed in CAD,
and writ large in (nicely leaded) Trade Gothic.
(Oh, Trade Gothic – how I have long ignored you! What have I been thinking?)
Only part catalog, really, it is the best of its kind (although its kind are truly few),
and like the pieces it sells, it is art. Part catalog, you ask? Oh yes,
it is catalog cum designer biography cum interior design journal cum
brief history of furniture design in the 20th century.
The classical masters are all represented: a recent issue features
the Eames Management Chair on the cover and pieces by Mies van der Rohe,
Le Corbusier, Breuer, Noguchi, and Nelson throughout. But some of the
best pagespace is reserved for up-and-comers as well as prominent
designers of the present such as Richard Holbrook, Philippe Starck,
Eric Pfeiffer, Nani Marquina, and the firms Stua and BLU DOT.
All of this might sound stiff and sterile, but indeed, it is not.
Pieces are photographed in offices and homes (check out that staircase
in the Nabashima/Kahle residence), and models are used on an
increasing basis; for more than ample evidence, see the cover
of the “Modern in the mix” issue. Go online and request the periodic
“Design Notes” emails, and you’ll receive updates from founder/globetrotter
Rob Forbes that read like postcards from a friend.
Speaking of online, and thanks to the involvement of image technologists Scene 7, you
can design your future furniture on the site, substituting color swatches and
enlarging pieces. And speaking of image, that of DWR was firmly established
and continues to be well honed by uberfirm Pentagram.
Some of the design is clearly without reach: readers may balk at spending
US$3500 for the Grand Confort Sofa, upholstered in cotton twill, no less.
And $595 for a Vipp trash can? Riiight. But you will find much of it to be
affordable; nay, in some cases, surprisingly so. The Kyoto chair is one of
the finest around for its purpose; a bargain at $60. And as a personal
testimonial, I’m here to tell you that the Transporte 2.0 table (under $500)
is all you could ever hope for in a workspace. The thing is huge (more room than ever for those Kleenexes);
in addition, it rolls, has two grommets for cables, and thus far, has proved
itself to be one strong mother. It will outlast me by a longshot.
If you live on the West Coast, you can see the stuff in person – eight retail
stores and growing. Stuck here in the heartland? Well, the relationship will
just have to continue long-distance. At least for a little while.
Oh, it’s a selfish, foolish thing I’ve got going, this affair. Many a
dinner table conversation has been compromised upon a new catalog
arriving in the mail. And many a facetious floor plan has been drawn
up using DWR pieces I will never own. But on the other hand, it’s the
most innocuous of affairs, really. My fantasies focus on what is best
in modern home design, and I so remain pure in thought, word, and deed.
Even when those thoughts wander off to words spoken and deeds done
on the supple, black leather of the Mies Day Bed.
26-January 2003
sebastian lester discusses scene
“Amongst all existing type faces only Grotesque fits spiritually into
our time,” wrote Tschichold 75 years ago, and though he relaxed his view
seven years later, it seems the sentiment might apply just as strongly
now as then. We appear to be living through another great age for the
sans-serif form; though the archetypes have not faded away – Futura,
Gill Sans, Helvetica, and Univers continue to be used widely – several,
prominent designs have recently been issued. These include, among others,
FF Bau, ITC Conduit, FF DIN, Gotham, Knockout, FF Scala Sans, and Solex.
An important addition to this group is Sebastian Lester’s
Scene. An
amalgam of sorts; kith and kin of DIN, and more distantly, Eurostile,
it is less affected than either, and quite probably, more versatile.
Available in regular and italic in six weights, and accompanied by an
assortment of alternate forms, Scene is – just as advertised – eminently
clean, open, and highly legible.
I was fortunate enough to discuss with Sebastian his latest release;
my questions and his answers follow.
JC: What factors might be responsible for the renaissance of the industrial
sans, and where does Scene fit in?
SL: I guess the renaissance is partly a backlash to the popularity of extremely
experimental aesthetics in type design that spanned most of the 90’s. But I
think it’s also about functionality. Generally speaking, sans serif designs
tend to be better choices for use on screen than most serif or “grungey”
counterparts for example. They’re inherently more robust and versatile in
this environment.
There is something grounded and direct about sans serifs as well. They’re
perceived, with some justification, as conveying “modern”, “professional” and
“reliable” values well. Some do this better than others.
I think Scene fits comfortably into this genre. It was a two year labour
of love. If you design type 8 hours a day for a living and then sometimes
work 8 hours a day doing it recreationally afterwards then it can’t really
be anything else!
The constraints I imposed on myself meant that the typeface was never going
to push any boundaries. It was intended to be a clean, modern, highly legible,
easy-to-use, and aesthetically pleasing typeface family. That was the intention.
Whether it’s achieved these things is something for conjecture. I’m personally
very happy with the design. I got a lot of honest feedback from some very
talented people whose opinion I respect a great deal in the development
process, which was invaluable.
I’d cite its main influences as Boo Gothic (a custom typeface designed at
Monotype by Robin Nicholas), the ubiquitous DIN and various other designs
I’ve grown to appreciate over time. Someone told me they thought that it
looked like a modern take on News Gothic, which I can see.
JC: What design process did you follow in Scene’s development?
SL: I wrote a list of all the qualities I’d want in a typeface for corporate
identity use. I then set about figuring out how to achieve them. I
started with sketches. I’ve been immersed in corporate typeface design
on a daily basis for quite some time now, so I’m constantly confronted
with what clients want and don’t want from typefaces intended for this
kind of use. It’s been illuminating and helpful.
JC: Your previous faces – Equipoize Sans and Serif, Cuban, and Zoroaster –
are relatively adventurous when compared to Scene. Was it difficult to
design and produce a more restrained face, or was it a welcome new direction?
SL: I saw it as a welcome new direction certainly. Sans serifs are
deceptively simple in appearance as you know. You can’t hide bad
drawing or structural flaws in a design behind elaborate serifs or
pseudo experimental aesthetics. You have to work towards a real
purity of form.
JC: Scene is an expansive family. Nonetheless, are there any immediate
plans to extend the face even further (e.g., additional widths, small
caps, extra characters)?
SL: Yep. In fact I’m currently developing symptoms of sleep deprivation
and a nervous twitch working on two other widths of Scene – condensed
and compressed. I’m really happy with how they’re shaping up.
I spent a great deal of time deliberating about the overall width of
the characters. An “economy of space” over “maximum legibility” conundrum,
effectively. I settled on designing three widths and releasing the widest
version first.
Scene is available through Agfa-Monotype.
20-January 2003
apollo: 14 of 20
Rosalind Franklin: Robbed intellectually and spiritually without
recourse, she died tragically at a young age and was subsequently
forgotten, only to be resurrected a decade later as a laughingstock
by the unrepentant thief. A painstakingly methodical molecular
biologist, her astoundingly clear x-ray crystallographs of DNA
led directly to the elucidation of the molecule’s structure.
The second major work on Franklin’s life was published this year,
and as good fortune would have it, I found my copy under the tree.
The book is one of only a few I’ve seen set in
Apollo. Originally
designed in 1962 as one of the first faces for photocomposition,
Apollo is elegant, easy-to-read, and just a tad quirky. One doesn’t
necessarily expect to find a Berling-esque, beaked f in the midst of
an otherwise classical old face, nor a j that seems poised to reel
in any ascender below that dares venture astray.
In the digital era, Adrian Frutiger and Linotype appear to be inextricably
linked. Yet here is a Monotype offering from the Swiss designer – one
of his earliest serifed designs – and unlike any of his other digitized
forms save one (Linotype Didot), it comes with all the trimmings: small
caps, text numerals, and an extended f-ligature set.
If there is any nagging fault apparent in the digitization, it is in
the spine of the lower case s, which is just a touch too heavy. Squint,
and you will see the s’s pop out here and there on the page. Small
criticism, however, for a face that is so crisp, so stately, and so
sadly underused.
Apollo is named for the god of, among other things, logic, reason,
and intellect. He was strikingly handsome and passionately romantic,
yet was perpetually unlucky in love. Logic, reason, and a strong
intellect served to guide Rosalind Franklin throughout her short-lived,
scientific career. And like Apollo, she too was spurned by love;
the only men in whom she was ever interested were already married.
An appropriately chosen typeface, then, for the biography of such an
extraordinary person.
06-January 2003
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