Typographic silence

- Came across a book awhile back titled "My Heart" by Corinna Luyken. The whole book is a single short poem that she wrote and illustrated, and it's sweet. "My heart is a window. "My heart is a slide. "My heart can be closed or opened up wide." And on it goes. A rainy heart, a broken heart, and to the final spread, "I get to decide." What caught my eye was the extremely simple typography. Every spread has only a few words alone in a sea of white space or in this case illustrated space. White space, you already know this, is visual silence. And when you have something valuable to say, silence is a big thing. Silence is what allows you to hear. But type is naturally talky. When you set type, it's talking to you. So how do you quiet it? I think there are three things. One is your choice of type style. You want it appropriate to the subject, but not imposing a voice of its own. Lily Malcom, who designed this book, chose the typeface Granjon. It's a classic book face almost identical to Garamond, so it's warm and familiar, but almost invisible to your mind. You may not even have noticed it. Two is the way you set it. And three is where on the page you put it. Let me make an example. I love these lines from poet Mary Oliver. "Things take the time they take. "Don't worry. "How many roads did St. Augustine follow "before he became St. Augustine?" Here's what I did. I started with a favorite face of mine called Filosofia. I like it because it's soft and warm and very human. It's rounded and cupped and a little quirky. Less desirable for me would be Times Roman like this, which is sharp and spiky and comparatively harsh. You already know not to use a script. It's hard to read, flamboyant. Or a block shadow, which is decorative and also hard to read. Trickier, though, would be this. This is Goudy Sans. Very pleasant typeface. Pretty, easy to read, but with a strong style. It has a flare, lot of calligraphy, and those qualities will color the words, which we don't want. So Filosofia. Next was to break the lines as the poet did, which left this widow. That's nothing something I do in prose, but here it's on purpose. Line spacing projects voice. I left it as you see it, which is neutral like a book. If it were tight like newspaper text, there's pressure like something being compressed, which also imposes tension. If the spacing is very wide, it feels unnatural enough to also draw attention. So leave it as it is. You may see an unintended shape here. We want to soften that so it's more like a spoken voice. Two things. First, break the left edge with a hanging indent, which is natural anyway for poetry. Then on the right, indent the byline to here, which aligns with nothing, and italicize it, which sets it apart from the poem very quietly. And I like this. Soft type, neutral spacing, organic shape. It reads gently and correctly, and you won't notice it. Next, a soft background. And reduce its size by half. Question here is where does it go? Not in the center. The center is a target. It draws eyes from every direction. If this were a logo, it's the perfect spot. But for this, no. To the right creates another kind of tension. Our eyes naturally move to the right, so they just blast across this space. This position is active. It's crowding the edge. There's all kinds of issues here. I tried a few others, top, bottom. Wound up here. And to my eye, this feels right. It's quiet. I think that's because the position is ambiguous. No movement. So that's on an abstract screen, which is generally my preference because it allows the reader to assign the meaning or no meaning. You can read into it what you will. If you want an image, my preference also leans toward the abstract like this. I want those words to be the thing. There's always the temptation to do this. It's a beautiful picture. There's a road. There's a promising light at the end of the road. all that. And how many things have you seen just like this? But given the words, I don't like it. It strikes me as trying to lead the reader. That light is a promise that's not in the words. The words give hope, but you can't promise an outcome. So it feels false and kind of saccharine. I like this better. It's attractive. It's true to the words, but I think too literal. Just picturing words is the least interesting use of art. Art has the power to bring mystery and nuance and emotion. So one more. Of the three, I like this best. The words are behind her. The uncertainties of the sea, future unknown. But there's hope here, endless horizon. Perhaps some sadness, but we're on our way come what may. All of this is so subtle and tricky. It's a little like painting with words. It takes a very light touch, demands a light touch. But if you can get words and images working together like that children's book so the words just release the story without coloring it, magic can ensue. And that's your design for today. See you next time.