Copping an AttitudeBy Rudy VanderLans
This article was first published in 1996 in
Emigre 38.
You can't open a design magazine
these days without stumbling across an article or letter
quarreling over who owns which typeface. The discussion about
Erik Spiekermann's Meta in Eye magazine and the ruse over a customized version
of Martin Majoor's Scala in the recent AIGA Journal are but
two recent examples. It comes as no surprise. The making and
selling of typefaces are perhaps experiencing one of the most
exhilarating times in their history, much of it the result of
the democratizing effect the Macintosh computer has had on this
500 year old tradition. Not only does the Macintosh enable
anyone willing to invest the time to design and manufacture
typefaces, it has also turned every computer user into a
potential purchaser of fonts, making typefaces a rather
valuable economic commodity.
Type was never before sold directly to end
users. It was sold to typesetting businesses who specialized in
setting type according to the specifications of graphic design
professionals. Actually, the mainstay for companies that
manufactured type was the typesetting equipment. Often the
typefaces were part of the purchase of the equipment.
World-wide, only a handful of large type foundries existed,
which licensed or commissioned fonts from a small group of
renowned type designers.
This all changed in 1984, when the
Macintosh computer was introduced. Even though it took a few
years to catch on, when people realized the financial and
creative potential of typefaces made possible by the personal
computer, a burgeoning of upstart type foundries and
distributors occurred. For the first time in history, the
established foundries found their market share yielding to a
new breed of font foundries: those involved in high technology.
Over the next ten years, besides many font
"volume discounters," a growing number of smaller
"alternative" foundries were started. While the
latter were initially seen as insignificant, recently they
actually seem to be breathing new life back into the older
foundries, as both Monotype and Agfa have become official
licensors of foundries such as [T-26], one of the numerous
upstart foundries known for its many experimental student
typefaces.
Within the past ten years literally
thousands of new typeface designs have been added to what was
already a sizable number, and the demand for fonts has never
been greater. While it is undeniable that this explosion has
given a great boost to the development of type (at least it has
brought wide attention to what used to be a completely obscure
craft practiced by only a few, mostly male, craftspeople), it
hasn't been all positive. Due to the increasing demand
for typefaces that it generated, it has also brought about its
share of opportunism, questionable practices and rampant
piracy. One can argue, of course, that this, too, is simply an
integral, perhaps even necessary, part of the total equation
that has helped demystify and popularize the art of producing
and marketing typefaces.
While we can expect few positive effects to
come from the large font discounters, and since the more
established professional foundries are somewhat hindered by
commercial and practical considerations, the smaller
alternative foundries have been in a position to undertake more
rigorous experimentation and research. The promotional material
that accompany the new releases often emphasizes that
experimentation is, in fact, the driving force behind the work.
Run by designers instead of managerial or business types, they
are less restricted by compromise, deadlines and other
commercial interests, and are often in close contact with art
schools, where research and experimentation are inherent.
When looking at the offerings of current
alternative foundries, however, apart from the hundreds of
novelty fonts, it is disappointing to find that little in-depth
research has been conducted. While most alternative foundries
advertise experimentation as their principal concern, if any
did take place, seldom have we been presented with either the
process or the objective of any serious experimentation. An
experiment, after all, is a test whereby the test is often the
most interesting aspect of the project. Herbert Bayer's
Universal typeface, for instance, was the result of
various investigations into geometrically drawn letter forms.
Although the final font is fraught with contradiction, it is
the experiment, the process, that makes it a valuable
commodity.
In addition, and this is the point of my
essay, although many of today's so-called experimental
fonts are obvious derivations, rarely is the original typeface
credited. In their rush to establish their own identities,
foundries often find it expeditious to plunder historical faces
without admitting what they've done.
Presenting us with only a result and not
its process creates two problems. First, it is difficult to
consider the motivation behind these new creations to be
anything other than personal and financial gain, rendering the
adjective "alternative" somewhat presumptuous. And
second, in case of the derivative fonts, it renders the
distinction between drawing inspiration from the original font
and stealing it less clear.
That is what this article and the
accompanying article by John Downer addresses. It revisits the
notion of how we may learn from and build upon existing models
by way of homage without relinquishing personal expression,
experimentation or other gains.
There are, after all, ways to copy, borrow,
sample and be inspired without "ripping off" the
work of others. This is, in fact, the way type design has
traditionally evolved. Much of the progress in type design has
been the result of adapting existing typefaces from one
technology to another or of satisfying particular demands
regarding legibility or economy of usage of a typeface. Jan
Tschichold's typeface Sabon, for instance, was based on
Garamond printing types and was commissioned by a group of
German master printers in 1960. The requirements were that it
"should be suitable for production in identical form for
both mechanical and hand composition" and "suitable
for all printing purposes." In addition, for reasons of
economy, they asked for it to be 5% narrower than the original
Garamond model. The work on such adaptations usually has
included extensive research into both ownership and history of
a font. If necessary, fonts were licensed from one foundry to
another. The changes added to an existing font in this process
were usually the outcome of a combination of the restrictions
presented by new typesetting inventions and the idiosyncrasies
or esthetic preferences of the designer or foundry. In any
case, most successful adaptations have shown a great deal of
respect for, and mention of, the original model. Actually, it
is the very research into the source material that makes the
new versions so well considered and valuable. Recent examples
of this age old method of "borrowing" are
ITC's version of Bodoni designed by Sumner Stone (with
Jim Parkinson, Holly Goldsmith and Janice Prescott Fishman), as
well as Robert Slimbach's Jenson and Carol
Twombly's Trajan, which were both released by Adobe, to
name but a few.
We can continue this tradition today
(unless, of course, you plan to make some kind of
sociopolitical statement about intellectual property, but one
needs to make this clear at the outset instead of using it as
an excuse when things go awry). When using existing fonts as a
starting point, we can create electronic drawings from scratch
by scanning and tracing printouts, for instance, or by
licensing digital source material, as practised and enforced in
the world of music. Or we can even create drawings by hand and
then scan them into a computer, a method that seems to be
rapidly disappearing along with the common decency of crediting
source material.
Bad Attitude
Unauthorized copying of typefaces is not a
recent phenomenon. It is as old a tradition as is type design
itself. In the book Printing Types, published in 1922, author D. B. Updike
describes the Bristol-based Fry type foundry as "able but
bare-faced copyists," who openly announced in the
advertisement for their specimen of 1785 that they had cut
types "which will mix with and be totally unknown from
the most approved Founts made by the late ingenious artist,
William Caslon." The Caslon family was none too flattered
and published a poignant "Address to the Public"
denouncing the claim made by Fry and which was prefixed to the
Caslon specimen of 1785.
Of course, the significant difference
between copying then and copying now is the ease with which one
can do so today. The Fry foundry, according to Updike,
"spent some years" in making an imitation of
Caslon's type. In today's digital environment it
has become virtually effortless. The copying of digital
drawings is a quick and easy process that requires little else
but the abilities to cut and paste. This would be of little
concern if it weren't for the fact that such creations
are often put on the market at a fraction of the cost of the
copied versions, allowing the copyists to easily outspend the
originators in areas of promoting and distributing their fonts.
Besides font "piracy," as it is
often referred to, digital "sampling" is another
favorite but problematic means of creating typefaces. While
sampling has generated some remarkable designs, the results
often stretch the meaning of the word "original." A
sampled font, after all, is a hybrid made up of distinctive
parts copied directly from existing digital fonts. While
digital sampling affords those not skilled in the traditional
methods of creating typefaces the means to do so, these
productions often find their way into the commercial font
market as foundries struggle to outdo each other by releasing
ever greater numbers of fonts. Seldom are original sources
mentioned, and because so many novice designers and other
"naive" outsiders are involved, issues of copyright
infringement are hardly considered. Just to be sure, though,
foundries usually enter clauses into their contracts that place
the responsibility for infringement on intellectual property
squarely in the lap of the designer.
Obviously, there exists a great deal of
confusion and disagreement regarding issues such as sampling
and copying typefaces. What's the difference, for
instance, between taking a piece of tracing paper and tracing a
printout of an old specimen book and slightly changing it (as
was done when Tschichold created Sabon), and copying the
digital data of an existing digital font and slightly altering
the coordinates? The difference, of course, is the amount of
work involved in making drawings from scratch, be they digital
or analog. In addition, and perhaps more important, when fonts
became digital, they became protected under software copyright
laws, making it illegal to copy and resell the digital code.
Regardless of how much you alter it afterwards, it is simply
against the law to do so. But it's not impossible to do.
One way to borrow legally is to first
secure permission. Of course, this requires a fair amount of
research and patience, and can possibly result in the
responsibility of paying licensing fees to the original source
designer. More importantly, it acknowledges the issue of
intellectual property, a highly controversial notion these
days, particularly among those who struggle to come up with
ideas of their own. Besides commenting on how uncool it is to
be uptight about issues of intellectual property, typeface
samplers often point to the world of music as an example of how
sampling can generate exciting, previously impossible new
creations. Any restriction upon usage, they claim, would
restrict progress. They usually fail to mention (or are unaware
of) one important fact. Within the world of music, it has been
well established that if you want to sample something,
regardless of length, number of bars, or whatever, you have to
get permission. Years ago, after much uncertainty over the
issue of sampling, a case went to court and a precedent was set
when a judge ruled simply: "Thou Shalt Not Steal."
Most of the music world now abides by this ruling. There are
even companies that specialize in "clearing
samples" (the method by which permission for usage of
borrowed bits of music is legally secured.) Sampling,
therefore, is entirely legal; you just have to get permission.
By clearing the samples, the person being sampled at least has
the opportunity to say "no," or earn a licensing
fee for the usage of his or her work. If a sample is denied,
the musician goes back to the drawing table.
A few years back Brian Schorn, then a
design student at Cranbrook, showed us a typeface that he
designed called "Admorph." The typeface was based
on drawings of Trajan as found in the book The Alphabet by
Frederic Goudy. We were attracted to the concept of the font
and became interested in releasing it. However, the digital
version of the font was created using proprietary digital
drawings of Adobe Trajan digitized by Carol Twombly. To
digitally render a font based on Trajan from scratch requires
great expertise and craftsmanship. As a shortcut, to put
together what was essentially a conceptual font for private use
in his thesis project, Brian had used Adobe's font. To
release Admorph commercially, we figured it would be of
considerable help to use Adobe's digital version of
Trajan. Not only would this speed up the process of
manufacturing the font, it would also give us access to some
superior digital drawings that would require a great deal of
work on our side if we used a method of scanning and tracing
the drawings from the book. Neither Brian nor we were up to
that challenge. So we wrote Adobe a letter asking to license
the digital drawings of Trajan for this project. Adobe
considered the request but denied it. The reason Adobe denied
our request was unimportant. What is important is that as the
creator of digital data a designer should be given the
opportunity to decline or grant permission. Although we were
disappointed, we respected Adobe's decision, and to this
date Admorph has not been released.
Attitude Adjustment
How much do you have to change a design in
order to call it your own? Obviously, there is no clear answer.
Ethics, the rules or standards of conduct governing the members
of a profession, is all we have to guide us. Milton Glaser,
appropriator extraordinaire, and probably one of the most
ripped off designers alive today, once said something to the
effect that he wouldn't copy anybody's work unless
the originator was dead. In case of doubt, that's not bad
advice. Today, thanks to the same computer that has given
everybody the ability to create and manufacture fonts,
knockoffs or slight deviations can be created, marketed and
distributed within a matter of months from the time an original
is released. This makes it increasingly difficult for the
originator to have a chance to recoup the cost of developing
and making available original fonts.
I'm certain that it is the love of
font design, and not just profitability, that ultimately
inspires people to explore new ideas. This deserves our
support. As producers of cultural artifacts, graphic designers
have a distinct understanding of the issues of copying and
intellectual property, and as avid users of type, we're
in a unique position to support original ideas born from honest
investigation. Remember, if an offer of 1,000 fonts for $99
sounds too good to be true, it probably is.
For examples of a more considered approach
to typeface design, check out the work and ideas of the
designers featured in John Downer's article. And to show
that genuine type experimentation still exists, we have
published in this issue projects by Susan LaPorte, Margo
Johnson and Stephen Farrell. If there's anything there
you'd like to copy, I hope it's ideology.
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A Selection of Essays from Emigre Magazine
Ambition/Fear
By Zuzana Licko and Rudy VanderLans. Published in Emigre 11.
Neomania
By Anne Burdick. Published in Emigre 24.
Fallout
By Rudy VanderLans. Published in Emigre 30.
An Interview with Steven Heller
By Michael Dooley. Published in Emigre 30.
An Interview with David Shields
By Michael Dooley. Published in Emigre 30.
An Interview with Edward Fella
By Michael Dooley. Published in Emigre 30.
An Interview with Mr. Keedy
By Michael Dooley. Published in Emigre 30.
In and Around: Cultures of Design and the Design of Cultures
Part I
By Andrew Blauvelt. Published in Emigre 32.
Discovery by Design
By Zuzana Licko. Published in Emigre 32.
In and Around: Cultures of Design and the Design of Cultures
Part II
By Andrew Blauvelt. Published in Emigre 33.
An Interview with Rick Poynor
By Mr. Keedy. Published in Emigre 33.
Radical Commodities
By Rudy VanderLans. Published in Emigre 34.
Copping an Attitude
By Rudy VanderLans. Published in Emigre 38.
Graphic Design and the Next Big Thing
By Rudy VanderLans. Published in Emigre 39.
That was then, and this is now: but what is next?
By Lorraine Wild. Published in Emigre 39.
Graphic Design in the Postmodern Era
By Mr. Keedy. Published in Emigre 47.
Skilling Saws and Absorbent Catalogues
By Kenneth FitzGerald. Published in Emigre 48.
First Things First Revisited
By Rick Poynor. Published in Emigre 51.
First Things First Manifesto 2000
Various authors. Published in Emigre 51.
Saving Advertising
By Jelly Helm. Published in Emigre 53.
The Emigre Legacy
By Rudy VanderLans. Published in Emigre 56.
Sustainable Consumerism
By Chris Riley. Published in Emigre 59.
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