Dutch fonts, particularly those crafted by van Dyck for the printers Elzevir, were famously described by the American scholar/printer, Daniel Berkeley Updike, as “recognizable … by their sturdy qualities of workmanship, and … in the smaller sizes of roman and italic, by a tiresome evenness of design.” He added, “Their closely fitted, large face on a small body was preëminently practical for … small formats”.1 We learn more about the so-called “Dutch taste” when, about characters produced by Fleischman for Enschedé, Updike wrote, “Then begins a new series of types—capital letters in roman and italic of a very Dutch and ugly cut … and a great variety of faces of roman and italic types, in some of which the size of the body of lower-case letters is unduly large in proportion to the capitals.”2 By these accounts, Dutch fonts are “sturdy”, monotonous, “ugly”, ungainly, yet practical.
DTL Argo, a typeface designed by Gerard Unger and distributed by the Dutch Type Library, is a series of sans serif fonts of the same lineage characterized by Updike with scarcely veiled repugnance (van Dyck and Fleischman made serifed types for books). A Dutch typeface designed by a Dutchman, Argo is robust, its letterforms clear and dilated, making it a supremely legible and, consequently, readable family of fonts. Regardless of weight and style, every letter appears to be lit from within and, indeed, like his other typefaces, Unger’s abiding concern for illuminance and clarity resides in Argo. While Argo would be intrinsically satisfying to ponder in itself, a meaningful analysis would only come from comparing its characters to those which bear the sterling shapes, contrasts, and rhythms of calligraphy, assuming one accepts disciplined handwriting as the purest form of letter making. Unlike the watery, pedestrian letters that flow from ballpoint pens and pencils, calligraphy, achieved by correctly gripping a broad-nibbed pen, instantly generates fully formed letters with contrast.
Contrast, the inescapable swelling and tapering of strokes that determines the appearance and axis of calligraphic letters, is integral to the design of fonts and to our interpretation – our “read” – of their overall shapes and rhythms. Argo’s idiosyncrasies can be deciphered through an awareness of elemental letter making. There is a logic to calligraphic contrast, one to which our eyes are accustomed: The bowl or belly of upright b, for instance, starts as a wafer-thin stroke that swells as it moves clockwise from the principal, vertical stroke to the bottom right corner where it becomes wafer-thin again. Conversely, the swollen, bottom left stroke of b surges upwards in a counter-clockwise fashion from the principal stroke and, upon meeting the previous wafer-thin stroke (and thus closing the bowl), itself becomes wafer thin. Italics, on the other hand, are condensed, elliptical, and more rhythmic. A close look at italic b and one sees that, unlike upright b, its exiting, clockwise stroke (aka, “branch”) is an upwards-shooting swollen mark that starts further down the principal stroke. As the bowl of italic b materializes, the stroke abruptly expands and, just as abruptly, tapers back to wafer thin upon reaching the lower right corner – the moment when the writer lifts her or his pen. Like upright b, the swollen, bottom left stroke of italic b surges upwards in a counter-clockwise fashion and, upon tapering, closes the shape. The ellipse, which permeates calligraphic italics, is a function of speed: Italic letterforms are written quickly, hence the tendency toward fewer interrupted strokes, the tendency to condense, and the tendency to embellish.
Dissecting a single, handwritten character is enough to shed light on the inner workings and complexity of a well-written lowercase. Doing so also enables users – students, typographers, writers, and anyone connected with letters – to spot features that differentiate Argo from formal handwriting and Argo from other fonts regardless of style (e.g., serif, sans serif, semi-serif, low- or high contrast, etc.) or aims (e.g., to set continuous text, headlines, subheads, or fine print; for multi-lingual publications, financial and other kinds of numeric listings, printing on coarse or smooth papers, for on-screen reading, for broadcast, etc.). One could, in other words, use handwritten, calligraphic letters the same way one uses a map to navigate ambiguous territory or, in the case of fonts, an abundance of styles which, on first glance, seem indistinguishable.
Argo is, incontestably, not handwriting but, rather, a collection of “prefabricated letters” with which to write (here, I quote and repurpose a sentiment expressed by Gerrit Noordzij who, long ago, offered the most persuasive definition of typography). It is also unlike any other sans serif. Argo’s characters were carefully and very consciously drawn to be vivid, space-saving, and easy to tell apart. Its straightforward muscularity comes from elevated branches and towering lowercase characters. Its program of upright two story a and single story g, single story italic a and g, tapering terminals and finials commingled with played down calligraphic properties (e.g., an almost invisible oblique axis and gentle stroke modulation) make its characters welcoming and perfectly suited to a variety of contexts, media, and printing methods. Far from ugly and silently roaring, DTL Argo is everything – and more – than Updike described.
References
- Updike, Daniel Berkeley. Printing Types: Their History, Forms, and Use, vol. II. (New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1980), 20.
- Ibid, 38.