Sunday Inspiration | Tom Carnase

Since I wrote about my love for Mike Perry, I’ve wanted to put something together about another of my major lettering/type heroes but I knew very little about the man behind the work. I fell in love with some of Herb Lubalin’s work when I was nearing the end of my MA in 2014 but looking further into it, I realised that that what I actually loved about it wasn’t necessarily to do with him, and more to do with a sort of “invisible partner.” With that in mind, this entry may be a little smaller than the others I’ve written because I couldn’t find as much information and I couldn’t even find a decent headshot for the intro, but I have managed to cobble together enough and fact-check it for the purposes of this blog. So without further ado, allow me to introduce to you the work of the silent legend, Tom Carnase.

Born in The Bronx, New York City in 1939, Thomas Paul Carnase has produced some of the most memorable product lettering and logographic designs of the last 50 years for a Who's Who of corporate clients, including Brooks Brothers, Calvin Klein, Saks Fifth Avenue, Consumer Reports, Fortune magazine and L'eggs. In addition, he has designed, or co-designed, over 100 typefaces.

Some of Carnase’s most significant early work came out of his partnership with the design legend Herb Lubalin. Formed in 1969, design agency Lubalin, Smith, Carnase, Inc. produced the iconic ITC Avant Garde, a typeface inspired by publisher Ralph Ginzburg's new magazine of the same name. The design history of the type is complex, and was based on initial sketches by Herb Lubalin for the magazine's masthead design. Carnase, however, developed and drew many of the additional letterforms necessary for a full typeface, as well as additional weights and styles. The illustration to the left is a typically Lubalin-esque composition of the typeface which was originally commissioned by the Type Directors Club in New York. The typeface itself, Avant Garde, subsequently influenced an entire generation of graphic designers.

In 1980, Carnase co-founded the World Typeface Center, out of which came WTC Our Bodoni, a typeface collaboration with Massimo Vignelli. Other type produced by Carnase for WTC include Carnase Text, Favrille, WTC Goudy, and Our Futura.

He later maintained an independent design studio in which he used his frankly extraordinary lettering skills to create logos and other corporate identity work that perfectly captured his clients' products. One of the other areas that really inspires me about Carnase is his teaching career; he’s taught and lectured at the University of Cincinnati, the Pratt Institute, Parson's School of Design, the Cleveland Institute of Art, and RIT. He now operates a small studio out of Palm Springs, California.

Even though I discovered his work through his collaborations with Herb Lubalin, I was first properly drawn to Carnase’s work while doing some research on Milton Glaser, who is also from The Bronx, and was really taken by his versatility and attention to detail in the creation of his letterforms.
For me the difference between Perry and Carnase’s work comes down to how they work with type. They both understand it in very different, but very intimate ways; Perry knows it on a very personal level, how letters behave, their personality, while Carnase knows them at a much more technical/anatomical level.

The Cooper Union cover illustration | 1977

Steelograph Company logo | 1968

I've said it before when I was analysing my rebranded logotype back in 2017, but I do have a bit of a thing for Spencerian-style scripts because I love the contrast of sharp points and silky curves, but these two examples are key inspirations of mine.
The first is the lettering used on the cover of the 1977-1978 Cooper Union course catalogue and is one of the first examples of Spencerian script that inspired the redesign of my logotype; the simplicity of the layout, the lack of reliance on superfluous flourishing and delicate letterform construction.

The second is the logotype for the New York steel-engraving company “Steelograph” which was celebrated for the quality of its work. Created to express the high level of workmanship offered by these specialists. Quite often Spencerian style scripts are seen as fussy and overwrought, especially when accompanied by detailed flourishing, but here we’re seeing the detailed line work forming a natural extension to the letterforms.

Carnase’s work has a striking simplicity, which I think is similar in some way to Mike Perry’s typographic work in that there’s an understated quality that almost disguises the workmanship that goes into creating the letterforms and their overall composition. I chose this piece, “Candy”, from the RIT collection of Carnase’s work on purpose because even though it’s a very different style to the other two I’ve chosen (it’s very reminiscent of ITC Benguiat, which was also designed in 1977) namely because the letterform style is much heavier, but it still keeps the same key features of Spencerian lettering with the sharp serifs and beautiful curves.

I’d love to see some of the development work behind these designs. One of the things that gets to me is that we always see the finished product in all it’s glory, but we rarely get to see how the artist/designer got to that stage; how they decided on the composition, the placement of the flourishing, right down to the fine details.

I think now that I have the school holidays on my side, I can use that time to play with developing my own work into something that celebrates letterforms. I’ve also been thinking of referencing traditional archiving techniques, such as cyanotype, as a way of defining a working style of my own.

Identity Crisis

With the whole "new year, new me" cliche flying around, I'd been debating whether it was time that I refreshed my freelance identity as I felt it wasn't really reflecting who I am as an artist. After a spell of indecision, I started sketching out a few thoughts running through my head and wrote down a few things that I felt summed up where I was in terms of my current skill level.

Don't get me wrong, I loved how my original logotype looked but it started to look a little dated to me. I created the original way back in 2015, not long before I moved to Cardiff, and a part of me didn't want to rework it because I felt like it had become a part of who I am.
Like I say, the main reason for updating it was to ensure that I was representing my current skill level. If you look at the the two of them side by side you can clearly see a HUGE difference in both style and skill. I've got a bit of a thing for Spencerian-style scripts, and that's been reflected a lot in my most recent works (of which there haven't been a lot of, sorry...) because I love the contrast of sharp points and silky curves, so this was obviously something that I felt needed to be included...

Left: Original logotype from 2015 | Right: Reworked lettering for 2017

Not that I'm blowing my own trumpet here, but there's a dramatic improvement in the way I shape my letterforms, but also more confidence in their form. I think Spencerian is probably my strongest lettering style because it's one I love so dearly. I've also tried to incorporate a more rhythmic visceral appeal, something I've always admired in modern calligraphy, with the slightly varied heights and undulating descenders.
One thing I especially like about the new-look lettering is that there's less dependence on superfluous flourishes. I want the focus to be on the letterforms and the composition, not the things that surround them. Cutting down the flourishes to just the one of the end of "Stee" works to balance out the overall shape of the logo, and the simple underscore adds a little depth because there aren't any descenders in "Chromatic".

This confidence and rhythm is something I'm really aiming to embody in my work this year.

For the first time in too long, I'm going to be back at Printhaus this weekend, so I'm going to have a play with some printed editions of the new logo and create a colourful version for use somewhere, maybe Twitter.

Sunday Inspiration | Astrolabe

Considering I said to myself last year I was going to be more proactive with this blog, I've pretty much fallen flat when it comes to thinking of content to write about. However cathartic it may be, I don't want to write just for the sake of writing, but whilst I was out and about earlier today I thought it might be useful to start a weekly feature about inspirational work and objects.
Each Sunday, I'm going to put together a post that focuses on something I've come across that I find interesting and thought provoking in the hope of working elements into my own practice, as well as introducing people to something potentially new.

This morning I came across a post on Twitter from the British Museum featuring an object from their collection (though sadly they aren't on display) and I immediately fell in love with it. As a child I was always fascinated with horology and the intricacy of clockwork. So for the first instalment of the Sunday Inspirations blog, I'd like to introduce you to the Astrolabe.

Front view of the one of Georg Hartmann's astrolabes from the British Museum's collection. Dated 1532.

Rear view focusing on the rete and rule.
Photographs courtesy of the British Museum.

An astrolabe (Greek for star-taker) is a very elaborate inclinometer, historically used by astronomers and navigators, to measure the inclined position in the sky of a celestial body, either during the day or at night. It can be used to identify stars or planets, to determine local latitude given local time and vice versa, to survey, or to triangulate. This is done by drawing the sky on the face of the astrolabe and marking it so positions in the sky are easy to find. They are typically made up of a disk, called the mater (mother), which is deep enough to hold one or more flat plates called tympans. A tympan is made for a specific latitude and is engraved with a stereographic projection of circles denoting azimuth (the horizontal angle or direction of a compass bearing) and altitude and representing the portion of the celestial sphere above the local horizon. The rim of the mater is typically graduated into hours of time, degrees of arc, or both. Above the mater and tympan, the rete (which represents the sky and functions as a star chart), a framework bearing a projection of the ecliptic plane and several pointers indicating the positions of the brightest stars, is free to rotate.
To use an astrolabe, you adjust the moveable components to a specific date and time. Once set, much of the sky, both visible and invisible, is represented on the face of the instrument. This allows a great many astronomical problems to be solved in a very visual way.

Interestingly, the first mechanical astronomical clocks were influenced by the astrolabe; in many ways they could be seen as clockwork astrolabes designed to produce a continual display of the current position of the sun, stars, and planets. Many astronomical clocks, such as the absolutely gorgeous clock at Prague, use an astrolabe-style display, adopting a stereographic projection of the ecliptic plane.

I want to focus specifically on the work of the German maker Georg Hartmann (1489-1564) and his stunning brass astrolabes from the mid-1500s, some of which reside at the British Museum.
The ones pictured above were designed by Hartmann in 1532. This specific object is a Planispheric astrolabe, meaning it shows the stars at a particular time and place. It is set to a latitude of 50 degrees so can be used successfully throughout the British Isles and similar latitudes.
As I mentioned earlier, astrolabes are made up of several disks. In this case, there are three plates marked on both sides with circles for the tropics and the equator, and almucantars (a circle on the celestial sphere parallel to the horizon) for every three degrees. The azimuths are labelled for every ten degrees. They further bear markings for the unequal hour curves, numbered in Roman numerals clockwise I to XII (additive form for 4, i.e., IIII), and the astrological houses in the manner of Regiomontanus, numbered in Arabic numerals 1 to 12 anticlockwise.

You can just about see the inscriptions on the reverse in the photograph above, but they are beautiful. It's hard to picture the scale of them, but just to try and give you a little perspective, the astrolabe I'm writing about is 140mm in diameter, so that would make the numerals roughly 4-5pt if you compare it to standard type sizes.

I realise there's quite a lot to take in here, so I apologise for the sheer volume of stuff but I find them incredibly interesting! When I was at the V&A in December, I came across some illustrations that were based on cartography from the Middle Ages by the artist Kristjana Williams, so on the back of that, I'd like to try and base some personal work on the text styles from the astrolabes and linking it to Williams' work to maybe create something related to the star charts...

A House for Essex

Situated in the small village of Wrabness, A House for Essex was designed to evoke a tradition of wayside and pilgrimage chapels in the landscape. It is a singular building, appearing as a small, beautifully crafted object amongst the fields. Think of it less of a house, more of an ornate, terracotta-covered temple. It's a collaboration between Grayson Perry (one of my favourite artists growing up) and Charles Holland of FAT Architecture exploring the special character and unique qualities of Essex.

So while I've got some free time and I'm while I'm in London (a hell of a lot closer to Essex than I usually am), the opportunity to visit had finally arrived...

I have to say, of all the art I've seen in my life (which I'll be honest, isn't actually a whole lot), this is truely one of the most spectacular; not just in its form, but in it's narrative.
The whole concept of the house is based around the mythical Julie May Cope, a figure Perry created as an archetype of the "Essex Everywoman"; Julie is a figure that encompasses the kind of trials, tribulations, celebrations and mistakes of an average life. A representative of the emotions and experiences of the women of Essex as a way of overcoming the generic 'fake-tan' stereotype associated with them.

A stunning example of art meets architecture

The house is covered with terracotta tiles based around elements of Julie's life, with the largest of the tiles resembling her as a mystical goddess.

Part of the narrative is that the house itself was commissioned by Julie's soulmate Rob in her memory after she was killed in a freak accident with by a delivery driver in Colchester. The instrument of her demise, the delivery scooter, hangs in the main hall of the house as a chandelier.

After months, Julie feels this is her due. Good talk and wine, longer walks, slower art.
A senior social worker and her man enjoying complex friends and broadsheet lives.
Often, she had to remind herself that this is not ecstasy, a fleeting peek, but happiness.
A wide fertile valley in its familiarity, golden.
Julie said she had never known such bliss.
Rob had kissed her and said that if she died he would then grieve as deep as Shah Jahan and build a Taj Mahal upon the Stour.

The above extract is from the three thousand word poem that Perry wrote in conjunction with the building. It's such a shame, I'd love to read the whole thing but, as far as I can tell, it isn't on the interweb. It feels a bit strange referring to this as a building, because is is so much more than that. This is about a woman that doesn't exist, yet there is something so relatable about her, like the lyrics of an Adele track.

Sadly, I couldn't get inside as you have to have your name registered to take part in a ballot in order to get a slot to stay in the house. Plus it appeared to be closed for the winter season... 

If you're reading this and are interested in finding out more about this gorgeous place, Channel 4 made a short documentary with Grayson Perry about the process behind its design and construction. It's on All4 still, just search for "Grayson Perry's Dream House". It's an excellent piece of television and I strongly advise watching!

*apologies if there are any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors, I'm trying to write this on a crammed train from Colchester to Liverpool Street.

Quarter of a Century

So I'm 25 years old now. It feels pretty much the same as 24, which felt much the same as 23, but now thinking about things like "is this really the right path for me?" and "what are my next steps supposed to be?" are far more serious issues than they were a few years ago.
This is my first birthday as an adult where I haven't really had anyone close to celebrate it with, so even though I've been at work all day and surrounded by people I enjoy the company of, it just wasn't the same. I have this overwhelming sense of melancholy and I can't quite put my finger on exactly what's causing it.

I've been in Cardiff for just over eighteen months now, and since the split with my significant other I've been trying to use my time to meet new people, build friendship circles and move forward with my freelance work. To some degree, it's been fairly fruitful in the sense I've met lovely bunch of people and have started to form some great friendships. It has however been difficult to strike up the balance between social life and work life, and recently it's all becoming a little bit too much. I can feel myself beginning to burn out.

I moved down for one reason and that reason is no longer valid, but I've been having a real good go of making something of myself in Cardiff. I mean, I'm miles away from everything that I've known and while I do miss my friends and family, I don't think my life is in Birmingham anymore. Honestly though, unlike my ex-boyfriend who is surely going to spend the rest of his life in this city, I on the other hand (as much as I love the 'Diff) can't see myself being here for much longer than another year.
I've been in my current job for just over a year now, which is something else I wasn't expecting to happen. While I love everyone there, I did think that I'd be in a position to move on by now, lord knows I could do with something more challenging and creative, and a little extra in the bank each month would be a welcome bonus.

I could really do with a holiday too, even it it just means a week away from the day job for some time to recuperate...

Saturday 3rd September

Let's look at the positives though; I've made some new friends, got closer to existing ones, got to know the people of Printhaus better and feel more integrated in the community, got a few wedding commissions, travelled to new places, pulled in a club and various other exciting things I never thought I'd do.
I'd like to affectionately refer to this period as my Dead Cat Bounce (a temporary recovery after a substantial fall, it's actually a financial term. It's a real thing honestly, Google it) but less of a temporary thing, more the start of an uphill climb towards something better.

When I started writing this post on my birthday (September 1st)  I was quite down and a little uncomfortable in myself, but today as I write I feel much better. There are certain factors that keep me going, like Printhaus, that give me focus and a drive to succeed. I've got commissions to be working on, Christmas cards to be designing! I can't let these feelings bog me down forever or I'd get nothing done! I have a plan for the next 10 years and I'm sure as hell going to see it through. Like I said at the beginning though, I'm not sure what my next steps are, but every situation and opportunity is like a stepping stone; some have a level of uncertainty and will wobble when you stand on them, while others will be small but solid, sturdy. Some will even be large enough for me to stop and see where I'm going and where I've come from.

I didn't want this blog to turn into a space where I vent. I wanted it to be a place where I talk about work and the things that influence it, but I think this actually is somewhat relevant. Yes, there are tangents but it's all part natural flow of things, like any good conversation.

The next post will hopefully be about the new stuff that I'm working on, but for now at least I'm being more proactive with the blog like I said I would back in the new year. 

Simple Things

Yesterday afternoon I got a very exciting package in the post from the lovely people at G.F. Smith and it was probably the best presented package I've had since I got a Seb Lester print for Christmas! It may only have been a handful of paper samples, but I'm a little nerdy (unashamedly so) when it comes to this kind of thing! Most of the colours I ordered are just as stunning as I'd hoped and while some are slightly paler than I thought, it means I can now see more clearly what I'm dealing with.
I'm a firm believer in seeing and feeling any paper stock you're considering using before you use it, especially if you're buying paper online. The kind of stock you use has the potential to make or break a piece of work. For a while now I've been in love with the collections that G.F. Smith produce, from the gorgeous and rich tones of Colorplan to the elegantly patterned Marlmarque.

So, because I've got a few little projects on the go (mostly my Christmas card designs, and some business cards too) I wanted to start thinking about the kinds of colours and paper weights I wanted to work with. Some of the projects I'm working on I pretty much knew what weight I wanted to work with, the Amethyst purple paper for example is a lovely 350gsm so it'll be perfect for one of my business card jobs. I also got a few sheets of the Citrine yellow (my personal favourite) in 275gsm and 350gsm for when I rework my own business cards.

While I can now feel the weight of the paper, it also means I can now work more confidently on matching ink colours to the real-world colours of the stock. For me this is probably the most important part, after all I need to live up to the "chromatic" name!
For some of these papers, I've already worked out which coloured inks I want to use, for example the Amethyst is going to have metallic gold lettering with white detailing, while the Forest and Vermillion papers (which I've decided will definitely be used for my Christmas cards) will be paired with metallic silver and white.

Left to right, top to bottom: Scarlet, Amethyst, Marlmarque Marble White and Vermillion.

Left to right, top to bottom: Citrine, Emerald, Cool Grey and Forest

I've still got a lot of decisions to make, and I've still yet to draw up my thoughts for the lettering! At least I'm making a start on it though. I've also enquired about taking part in local craft markets and print fairs in order to sell some of my work, PrintHaus have also hinted at the potential to sell through one of their biannual Snapped Up markets in December!

Everything is coming up Milhouse!