Recent Highlights:
The Graham Grotesk Letterpress
The Graham Grotesk Letterpress was inspired by my conversations with Javier Viramontes and Frederik Berlaen, both of whom discussed the importance of creating your own tools. My thesis book was originally conceived as a “gesamtkunstwerk”. I wanted to design every part of it through a combination of type design and illustration. Robofont, however, only takes you so far on this journey. Contemporary designers are so fortunate to be living in the digital age. It enables us to be more prolific and productive than ever. Unless, that is, you have anxiety, in which case you may end up just spiraling and constantly backtracking on decisions you’ve already made. Digital tools make it extremely easy to reverse decisions and continuously edit works that ought to be left alone.
Once a letterform is cut in acrylic, etched into wood, or letter-pressed onto paper, it somehow feels real, permanent, and final. It is monumentalized as an object that exists in the world rather than an idea that exists only in the mind. As soon as I etched Graham Grotesk into the roller carriage of my letterpress I thought “there it is.” It was suddenly real. I no longer felt like I should be making changes to it. That was a great feeling. Of course I did still make some edits but only very minor ones. I wonder how this process may have differed for me in the pre-digital age or if I’d even have been a designer then. It’s a different world now.
In any case, the Graham Grotesk Letterpress was such a fulfilling undertaking. Much like the Ramp Altarpiece, it gave me a chance to get off my laptop and start working with my hands. I cut wood with a table saw, and PVC and metal with a circular saw. I drillpressed metal tubing and wood panels. I mixed concrete. I laser-cut plywood and acrylic. I clamped and glued and fastened everything together. It was so satisfying to see it all materialize. I am very grateful for the help of the sculpture MFA students Madeleine Kobe and Alyssa Grey who helped me with various parts of this process. They were very kind and generous with their time. Javier Viramontes was supportive throughout, which I appreciated greatly. He was eagerly enthusiastic to see that someone was using his plans to build another Format Press.
There were a few things in the instructions which threw me for a loop, and it took some time before I realized I had purchased the wrong thickness of plywood for the press bed, but adjustments were made and I was thrilled when I got the thing up and running. My first test print on the press was an absolute disaster. I used oil-based Gamblin ink, which is extremely thick and sticky. It clung to the acrylic moveable type, pulling it off the press-bed. Then the paper lifted the letters as it pressed down. There was ink everywhere, and it was very difficult to clean. The moveable type had to be wiped down with vegetable oil which presented its own new mess. I was very disappointed by that first go. I decided that it would be a good idea to just create a plate that fits neatly inside the press bed. It would be 15.5 inches wide and wouldn’t shift around at all. I went to the engineering lab and cut acrylic for the plate.
I designed my poster based on some of the classic Swiss Akzidenz Grotesk and Helvetica posters I’d researched thanks to my interviews. I spoke with Anna Doctor, a Certificate student at BU’s studio who has experience with letterpress printing. She recommended that I get some felt for padding, and try water-soluble ink. I went to Blick and got some more supplies and tried again. This ink was much easier, and after learning how to use the brayers properly I was able to get a good, even coat of ink on my plate. I used the silk-screen studio to wash ink off of letters in between attempts. Thank goodness I no longer needed to use vegetable oil. I’d purchased some nice print-making paper for this project but learned that my ink wasn’t really soaking into it. Oddly enough the prints looked best on newsprint, so that’s what I used. I was immediately struck by how unique the character of this sort of printing was. It didn’t feel digital, and it shouldn’t. It felt real and messy and imperfect just like Graham Grotesk. I was so happy with it.
The Ramp Altarpiece
The Ramp, as it is colloquially known to CFA students, is one of the most peculiar and fascinating spots on campus. I think what makes it so interesting to me is that BU hasn’t figured out how to make money off it yet, so it just sits there. Once they realize some revenue potential, they’ll turn it into a slip-n-slide or something. For now, it just collects detritus from staff and students. It’s a fascinating collection of artifacts on the ramp ranging from abandoned fine art projects to boxes of ceiling tiles and air filters. It seems like this is the place people go to leave things they don’t need now but may want later.
I have spent hours and hours wandering the ramp now, and even though I’m usually the only person there, I do occasionally cross paths with other pilgrims: a COM student playing guitar, an a cappella group rehearsing, an undergrad assembling a sculpture, a custodian exiting her closet. Even when I see no one (which is more common than not) there is still evidence of activity. A new graffiti tag here, a smashed television there. I try to go every day so I can see what has changed overnight. I find myself imagining who might have left the bottle of Fiji water on the fifth floor or who repositioned the little oil painting on the third floor. It’s interesting how much I want there to be a narrative behind every weird little detail. I want the graffiti to have meaning, but I’m sure a lot of it doesn’t.
At this point I’ve drawn, scanned, image traced, laser cut, etched, assembled, and glued these graffiti. What may have taken the vandal three minutes to paint, I’ve spent hours with. By now I know this material better than the people who invented it.
I was unsure what to do with the ramp but I was immediately attracted to the notions of authority and anti-authority language. On the ramp there are two types of writing: things like “STOP AT RED LIGHT” “NO PARKING” “DANGEROUS TO WALK ON RAMP” and graffiti saying things like “wish you were gay!” and “teehee butts”. I was really interested in that contrast and I thought there was some room to work with typographic forms contrasting that content.
I spent a good deal of time just meandering on the ramp ideating, but the idea came to me when I was standing outside the doors on the fourth floor. The ramp’s double-doors, I thought, resemble the outside of a triptych. Behind the doors was an odd, liminal world inhabited by eerie creatures. It was like Bosch’s painting that I love so much. So I decided to make a triptych as a continuation of my series dedicated to 808 Comm. Ave.
Art history fans may notice some other references in the altarpiece in addition to Bosch. The first panel in particular contains references to Rafael and Masaccio. My stance is modeled on Plato in The School of Athens. I am pointing to the graffiti above me, indicating its status as the true authority over the earthly signage in the lower portion. The composition of the work draws from Masaccio. My head is the vanishing point of the panel’s perspective, where all lines converge. I thought this composition was most appropriate given what I was attempting to emulate.
Some elements of the first panel were inspired by Van Der Weyden’s Deposition wherein the skull underfoot represents Christ triumphing over death. In the same way, the signage pictured under my foot represents a disregard for institutional authority in favor of the “divine” authority of the common people.
This project represents a full integration of illustration and graphic design (plus a dash of carpentry). I’m so thrilled with this project and I’m excited to continue working with these new media. I have grand plans to assemble a stained glass window out of acrylic now that I have the requisite skillset. Unfortunately, it will have to wait for the fall, but I have something to look forward to.
Elective Flyers for BU’s SVA
This series of flyers were a work project for BU’s School of Visual Arts. I designed a total of 20 flyers advertising elective courses and these are my 10 favorites. I wanted these to feel playful, angular, and colorful. Despite designing them in illustrator, I really hoped for the to look more like mid-century analog compositions that were laid out by hand. This was a great exercise in developing a distinct, memorable aesthetic across a series of similar supplies.
Praeterita Halbfett!
Inspired by German Expressionist woodblock typography, early handwritten Bauhaus manuscripts, and of course the timeless Futura.
Praeterita means “The Past” in Latin, i.e. the opposite of Futura. Futura looked forward to the future of typography. Praeterita looks back at the type that prefigured the Bauhaus.