Spacing
From a 1927 book on type composed entirely of hand drawn lettering by S. Welo.
Space is important in regards to letters and the messages which they convey, a single wrong gap and the entire message being signified could be ruined.
When read outside of the context of words, the last line takes on a definite ring of brilliance: "He does all he can in the design and fitting but he cannot materially alter the shape of an irregular character."
Yes, a writer of words and a writer of stories: a matched pair and one in the same. He does do all he can to design and fit the thing together, but as it happens, some characters (especially the irregular ones) cannot (or will not) be altered. The writer toils over the proper spacing, a breath between breaths, but now and again he is faced with a dreaded gap that he cannot rectify. Poor, sweet baby. It trickles, he wiggles, but no, it won't fit right. The bellicose puff of a B paired perhaps with the upward-pointing A: the negative space won't fair well, the gap is too wide and the character can be seen wavering to and fro; the writer is inconsolible, he can't stop the space and the way in which it allows his person to float a trifle despite his want for stillness. Somehow, though, the A before the B (so the down slope of the A meets the vertical backside of the B, coupled with the double rounded face of it) make for a decent gap, a proper tension and a more visually pleasing (albeit indefinably so) appearance. Any word offers any number of permutations, synonyms and antonyms and it is only a matter of time before this writer wittles away the words into one that provides for him the rigid lack of gap (or abundance of control) that he hopes, prays and cries out for.
Too much space and a person feels uneasy with freedom, too little and the person feels cramped with its absense. A character is subject to just this assertion, and is pinned down by words that dictate just how much space he has or does not have.
From a 1927 book on type composed entirely of hand drawn lettering by S. Welo.
Space is important in regards to letters and the messages which they convey, a single wrong gap and the entire message being signified could be ruined.
When read outside of the context of words, the last line takes on a definite ring of brilliance: "He does all he can in the design and fitting but he cannot materially alter the shape of an irregular character."
Yes, a writer of words and a writer of stories: a matched pair and one in the same. He does do all he can to design and fit the thing together, but as it happens, some characters (especially the irregular ones) cannot (or will not) be altered. The writer toils over the proper spacing, a breath between breaths, but now and again he is faced with a dreaded gap that he cannot rectify. Poor, sweet baby. It trickles, he wiggles, but no, it won't fit right. The bellicose puff of a B paired perhaps with the upward-pointing A: the negative space won't fair well, the gap is too wide and the character can be seen wavering to and fro; the writer is inconsolible, he can't stop the space and the way in which it allows his person to float a trifle despite his want for stillness. Somehow, though, the A before the B (so the down slope of the A meets the vertical backside of the B, coupled with the double rounded face of it) make for a decent gap, a proper tension and a more visually pleasing (albeit indefinably so) appearance. Any word offers any number of permutations, synonyms and antonyms and it is only a matter of time before this writer wittles away the words into one that provides for him the rigid lack of gap (or abundance of control) that he hopes, prays and cries out for.
Too much space and a person feels uneasy with freedom, too little and the person feels cramped with its absense. A character is subject to just this assertion, and is pinned down by words that dictate just how much space he has or does not have.
