Charlie and Ruth decide to take on the world of typography to find a little more soul therein. Ruth is recently back from a wonderful vacation south of the border, while Charlie merely dreams about paradise conditions.

Ruth: Charlie! I’ve missed our chats while I’ve been down in Mexico, combing the beach. Let me tell you, it’s a thankless job. One pesky pelican makes tracks and you’ve got to start from scratch. Even if you just went over it with a fine tooth comb. How goes your screenplay?
Charlie: Mexico?! Wow. Business or pleasure? Sounds like pleasure one way or the other. I’ll bet it was a real burden, being on all those white-sand beaches, the crystal clear water. Friggin’ taxing. The screenplay, thanks for asking, is going great. It’s going to be a real challenge to finish it by the deadline, but I’m having a blast all the same. Character development is like trying to pulling highly-engaging rabbits out of a multitude of purple velour hats. Sure, there’s plenty of rabbits and hats, but would anyone really care to watch one live, right there on screen? That’s a little tougher.

Ruth: You’re in good company. I just heard David Bowie’s ‘Under Pressure’ as well. If it’s any consolation, I believe in you. But not that long ago, you were up in my grill, talking smack about my “wobbly” PC. Then I realized I’ve never met a designer who wasn’t a bit militant about their Mac. You might call my operating system vulnerable, but I protest! We both harbor the same fonts, hopes and dreams, you know.
Charlie: Talking smack about PCs isn’t even something I try to do. It’s knee-jerk. I’ve actually tried to say nice things about them, but usually what happens is that I end up saying something like “the blue screen of death is actually a nice, deep shade of royal blue,” or, “maybe I’m wrong – maybe viruses do keep you on your toes.” I know I sound like a prick. What can I do? To me, aesthetics matter.

Ruth: Point well taken! Since you seem to be wearing your designer sombrero, Times New Roman is a typeface that’s become cliche by default. If you were stranded on a deserted island with only one font, what would it be and why?
Charlie: I have to say, I’d want to be on the beach with twins: FF Scala, and FF Scala Sans. Scala is that well-traveled, kind, quirky girl at the party with the laugh that makes the bimbo to your right seem extra vapid. She has, at her heart, an artful elegance, made evident with curvature and unashamed serifs (those little things on the end of a mark that make certain fonts look more “official” than others). Scala has the ability to be both whimsical and also regal, and is a wonderfully easy font to read which, when it comes to the struggle of desert-islanding, makes it a must-have. Martin Majoor, a Dutch graphic designer, began developing this font in 1987, while working for The Vredenburg Music Centre in Utrecht, a large concert hall in the Netherlands. His Scala font is named after the Teatro alla Scala in Milan.

Ruth: Twins, eh? Charlie, you always go for the gusto. Who decides font names anyway? Is there really a guy out there named Francoise that created Trebuchet?
Charlie: Actually, a man named Vincent Connare, who was working for Microsoft at the time, constructed Trebuchet in 1996. He created this font while pondering the question of how one might throw a human being across the Microsoft campus (see above PC-bashing for possible reasons why one might want to fling humans while trapped in PC-land). The trebuchet was a Medieval siege engine, seen most recently and famously in the battle scenes of Lord of the Rings trilogy. The font actually reflects some of the functions and design of the engine, albeit abstractly. This is also highly interesting to me, and something not many people realize: you, like Mr. Connare, can receive your Master’s Degree in Type Design from the University of Reading in Berkshire, England.

Ruth: If you could design a new typeface what would it be?
Charlie: Oo, great question. My font would be called Hoop™, which is the Dutch word for “hope.” It’s an homage both to my own way of looking at the world and also the pure genius and clarity of Dutch typographical design. It would be open, with some flowing elements, but with enough rigidity to make it useful, sustainable, and perfect for the text of a book. I see fonts all the time that become wild fads, are easily recognizable (see this scathing-but-true article about design heresies), but have no staying power. These sorts of fonts usually end up wooshing by your face in a high-end television promo or on someone’s website blog. When I look to find a truly fascinating typeface, I go to my local bookstore and open to any page. More often than not, you’ll be staring at a font that knows how to stick around.

Ruth: That goes hand in hand with what I’ve always said, “Never judge a book by its cover!”.  On a more personal level, I was diagnosed a few years back with a Type A personality. I immediately pledged to go sans serif. The fingers are willing, but the flesh is weak. I still catch myself sneaking a serif every now and again.

Charlie: Then may I suggest a font for you? Try Trade Gothic, dear madam. This is one of my all-time top-tier fonts and is, to me, a perfect balance of what lies between serif and sans-serif. It’s an adult font. It’s confident. It is free of serifs, but oh, it stands tall just fine on its own. Trade Gothic doesn’t mess around. it’s actually the typeface I used to create our He Said, She Said logo.

Ruth: You mean there’s a guilt-free font out there that can actually restore my jaded character?  (A few skeptical minutes pass while Ruth does a font search). Tragically, it appears I’m destined to remain typecast. I checked my library, and Trade Gothic isn’t your average stock font.
Charlie: I know there are those who look at these designers and can’t imagine why they take themselves and their art so seriously. I thought this for a while myself, thinking them to be some brand of design school wingnuts who think they are sent here by God to bring us fonts. Who cares, right? But then I realized that upon the backs of these fonts, books, proclamations, brands, politics, and all manner of persuasive designs are built using their handiwork, and if you don’t think it matters, take a look at the most recent U.S. Presidential campaign!

Gotham is visible everywhere now, thanks to the Obama campaign’s media innovations. I won’t get too deep here and tell you that fonts have a soul, but the people who make them do, as do the people who are moved by them, so the argument is moot, in my opinion. By default, fonts matter.

“I saw Scala used in the arts-nonprofit organizations (as you mentioned already), but also as a corporate identity typeface (KLM, Rosenthal Porcelain, Dutch Ministry of Internal Affairs), by publishers (Taschen), in a Bible, in a newspaper (Algemeen Dagblad) etc.” - Martin Majoor

Ruth: Purely by association, all fonts have a soul?  Then I will name my ideal typeface Dalai Lama Nirvana™ and hope it can live up to its legacy. It will be lotus-like in its purity and beauty. And possess an existential nature. Generous to a fault. And completely forgiving when I commit mortal sins of syntax.
Charlie: Ah, Syntax. Another one of my all-time favorites, another humanist offering from the year 1969, from the mind of a Swiss designer named Hans Eduard Meier, just about the time Sesame Street was created, Woodstock changed live music forever, and we did our first moon-jig.

Ruth: Charlie, I’m clearly an amateur when it comes to dishing about typography with you. I’ve been boldly underscored.  So I’ve decided to become a badass and attend the next TypeCon 2009 Conference in Atlanta this July (look closely and you’ll see this year’s theme, “Rhythm). Good grist from last year’s mill included, “Hi, I’m a Garamond” and “Will the Real Times Roman Please Stand Up?” I can’t wait for the Comic Sans punchlines during the opening night cocktail party!   At long last, I’ll be branded a Typocrite. And proud of it.
Charlie: Typocrisy is everywhere, even in a geek like myself. Here’s the great news: There’s no font, not one – nor will there ever be – that can take the place of wit, prose, syntax, cadence, structure, and passion – and you’ve got all those things in spades. Leave the fonts to the designers. They’re doing their part so that you can, oh so artfully, do yours.