Magazine typography is all about communicating, but magazines communicate in many different ways.

One of those ways is through the text, the traditional meat of any publication. Other ways include
photography, artwork, suggestive and allusive headlines, cartoons, and even the advertising. All of
these require integrating words and images in imaginative ways.
A magazine like the New York Review of Books communicates through columns of type; they’re plain,
straightforward, and readable. The heart of the magazine is its ideas, and those ideas are articulated in
the words. The New York Review is meant to be read.
A magazine like *surface, on the other hand, is clearly meant to be browsed. It’s filled with colorful
fashion shots, and what text there is (there’s actually a fair bit) tends to get shunted aside as colorless
slabs of small, industrial-looking sans serif type, which get shaped and poked into by graphic elements
to suit the look of the page rather than the needs of the reader. It’s often hard to distinguish the editorial
pages from the ads; one typographic aid to doing this is the use of a consistent and distinctive display
face in much of the magazine.
A subversive hybrid is nest: a quarterly of interiors,which is wildly visual – a browser’s paradise – but
features real articles in diverse styles. Each piece of text is treated differently, but within the traditions
of book typography: the text blocks, the spacing, the choice of typeface actually invite you to read each
article, rather than bounce off it. The juxtaposition of in-your-face visual presentation and readable text
type is one of nest’s charms. (But then, what would you expect from a magazine where the art director
is also the editor in chief?)
The Uses of Type
Type in magazines is basically used on one of three levels: as straight text, whether in small bits nestled
among the pictures or in whole pages of prose; as headlines and other big display words or phrases; and
as what I call “small display,” which includes subheads, subtitles, and pull quotes. There’s sometimes a
fourth kind of type, which doesn’t fit into this neat hierarchy and is usually found in separate, discrete
elements on the page: “infotext,” like the callouts and labels in infographics, or the text in tables or
broken-out lists.
What’s hard to find in contemporary magazines, at least in the United States, is clarity and simplicity.
Instead, the trend for many years has been toward clutter. But, through juxtaposition and contrast, some
publication designers can impose a visual order on the clutter that draws our attention instead of
repelling it.
Contrast and Consistency
The dramatic use of a typeface that has a distinctive character can pull a reader into a story. Strong
contrast, sweeping curves, and lively details in the type itself are really brought out when the type is
used with confidence. The display type in Rolling Stone is renowned for achieving this over and over
again, which is one reason why it keeps ending up in awards shows for design and typography. The
same can be said of Esquire. Using type dramatically and readably at the same time is the secret; a
clear contrast between hot display type and cool text is important.
It’s also important that the text be comfortably readable. Esquire does better than Rolling Stone at that;
both use narrow justified columns of text, but Rolling Stone tends to let the typesetting software
squeeze and stretch the space between letters to fit the line, which Esquire does less often. It’s
distracting when the texture of the type varies from line to line, and this makes the text less readable. If
you care about people reading your text, it’s a mistake to let graphic elements butt into the text
columns, making them temporarily narrow.
The Everyday Challenge
Striking typography isn’t found only in national or international magazines. The New York Times
Magazine is routinely given awards for its design these days, and deservedly so. On a more local level,
the San Francisco Chronicle’s slim weekly magazine shows how inviting text type and skillful
juxtaposition of photography and display type can make even a fluffy gardening piece worth browsing.
Using type in magazines is one of the most challenging forms of typography, because you have to
master every kind of typographic design: from the high-impact commotion of ad design to the smooth
flow of running text. But the touchstone is near at hand. Before we are designers, we are all browsers
and readers.

How do you tell one typeface from another? If you’re trying to distinguish Helvetica from Times
Roman, the difference is obvious. In other cases, however – especially between text designs having
similar characteristics – the differences can be subtle and difficult for the less-experienced eye to see.
One important step in training your eye to notice the details that set one design apart from another is to
examine the anatomy of the characters that make up our alphabet.
As in any profession, type designers have a specialized vocabulary to talk about the different parts of
letters. It isn’t necessary to commit the entire list to memory, but familiarizing yourself with this
terminology will make it easier to communicate about typefaces and their characteristics. It will also
help educate your eye to recognize the underlying structure of various designs and the differences
among them.

Arm/leg – An upper or lower (horizontal or diagonal) stroke that is attached on one end and free on the
other.
Ascender – The part of a lowercase character (b, d, f, h, k, l, t) that extends above the x-height.
Bar – The horizontal stroke in characters such as A, H, R, e, and f.
Bowl – A curved stroke which creates an enclosed space within a character (the space is then called a
counter).
Cap Height – The height of capital letters from the baseline to the top of caps, most accurately
measured on a character with a flat bottom (E, H, I, etc.).
Counter – The partially or fully enclosed space within a character.
Descender – The part of a character (g, j, p, q, y, and sometimes J) that descends below the baseline.
Ear – The small stroke that projects from the top of the lowercase g.
Link – The stroke that connects the top and bottom part (bowl and loop) of a two–story lowercase g.
Loop – The lower portion of the lowercase g.
Serif – The projections extending off the main strokes of the characters of serif typefaces.
Serifs come in two styles: bracketed and unbracketed. Brackets are the supportive curves which
connect the serif to the stroke. Unbracketed serifs are attached sharply, and usually at 90 degree angles.
Shoulder – The curved stroke of the h, m, n.
Spine – The main curved stroke of the S.
Spur – A small projection off a main stroke found on many capital Gs.
Stem – A straight vertical stroke (or the main straight diagonal stroke in a letter which has no verticals).
Stress – The direction of thickening in a curved stroke
 Stroke – A straight or curved line.
Swash – A fancy flourish replacing a terminal or serif.
Tail – The descender of a Q or short diagonal stroke of an R.
Terminal – The end of a stroke not terminated with a serif.
X-height – The height of lowercase letters, specifically the lowercase x, not including ascenders and
descenders.

More U&lc Online Issue: 27.2.1 Anatomy of A Character Spacing and Kerning Spacing and Kerning, Part 2 Scripts: From
The
Formal Casual Italics & Boldface The Letter B The Letter C U&lc Issue: 27.2.1 Phil Grimshaw: A True Typographic
Character Revival of the Fittest Magazine Typography On Book Design Japan Honors Carlos Segura
Letter
B
by Allan Haley

Many people consider shelter to be the second most important

ingredient for human survival. Coincidentally, the second letter in our
alphabet evolved from the ancient Egyptian hieroglyph signifying
shelter. Although the designs are somewhat different, there is a
recognizable correlation between this Egyptian hieroglyph and the
second letter of the Phoenician alphabet. The Phoenicians called this
letter beth, their word for “house.” The name was eventually carried
over into names and places in the Bible, including Bethel (house of
God) and Bethlehem (house of bread).

Select a letter to
view/purchase font second most important ingredient for human survival. Coincidentally,
the second letter in our alphabet evolved from the ancient Egyptian
hieroglyph signifying shelter. Although the designs are somewhat
different, there is a recognizable correlation between this Egyptian hieroglyph and the second letter of
the Phoenician alphabet. The Phoenicians called this letter beth, their word for “house.” The name was
eventually carried over into names and places in the Bible, including Bethel (house of God) and
Bethlehem (house of bread).
Beth was one of 19 characters acquired from the Phoenician traders that became the basis of the Greek
alphabet. In assimilating these letters, the Greeks made slight changes to some of the names. Beth
became beta, providing us with the second part of the two-letter name that makes up the word alphabet.
While the name change was minor, the eventual Greek beta looks quite different from the Phoenician
beth. Over many years the letter evolved from a pennant and right-angle shape into something that is
quite similar to our present-day ‘B.’ First the character was inverted so that the triangle was at the base.
 Then, through continual use, and perhaps because symmetry was important to the Greeks, a second
triangle was added and the two triangles ended up on the right side of the character.
The Greek beta further developed in the hands of the Romans. They changed its name to Bay, and
formalized the curved strokes.
The Romans were some of the first calligraphers in the western world. Although they brought flowing
lines and graceful curves to our alphabet, their art was born of technology. The early Greeks drew
letters by scratching through a soft wax coating applied to a wooden board, which forced them to work
primarily in short, straight lines. By the time the Romans inherited the precursor of our present
alphabet, however, letters were drawn using flat pens and brushes on a smooth writing surface. The
result was the gracefully-proportioned letters we are now familiar with.
From the square house, the B grew into one of the most beautiful letters of our alphabet.

More U&lc Online Issue: 27.2.1 Anatomy of A Character Spacing and Kerning Spacing and Kerning, Part 2 Scripts: From
Phil Grimshaw: A
Formal Casual Italics & Boldface The Letter B The Letter C U&lc Issue: 27.2.1 Phil Grimshaw: A True Typographic
Character Revival of the Fittest Magazine Typography On Book Design Japan Honors Carlos Segura
True Typographic
Character

“If you enjoy what you do, and you’re lucky enough to be good at it, just do it
for that reason.” This quietly spoken – and exceptionally wise – philosophy
remained Phill Grimshaw’s guide throughout his career, which was cut short in
1998 when Grimshaw died following a long illness, at the age of 48. Despite
creating some of the most popular display faces of the late 20th century,
Grimshaw never sought a high profile, and was content to let his lettering and
typefaces speak for themselves.
A native of Northern England, Grimshaw was a bit of a character. Utterly
unpretentious and prone to mischief, he was once memorably described as “the
Jack Nicholson of type.” Drawings were often produced while he sat in front of
the television, with a glass of single malt in one hand and a drawing implement
in the other.
Grimshaw’s letterform designs possess a vitality and invention that’s as irrepressible as their creator.
Each of Grimshaw’s typefaces, from the cool sophistication of Noovo to the hurried immediacy of
Bendigo, has a delightful and vivid personality, often providing the perfect answer to the age-old
typographic question, “Where can I find a face that says happy/sad/somber/historic...?”
Early Designs for Letraset
During the creation of many of his typeface designs, Grimshaw enjoyed the professional support and
friendship of Colin Brignall, Letraset’s Manager of Typographic Development. Grimshaw’s
relationship with Brignall was forged when he began to submit ideas for typefaces to Letraset – ideas
that Brignall immediately identified as “outstanding, with a remarkable sensitivity of line.” Brignall
saw in this young and gifted apprentice someone who combined a highly developed sense of proportion
and form with a remarkable spontaneity – both of which remained present throughout Grimshaw’s
career.
Later Work
Grimshaw’s last work involved several calligraphic designs, as well as commissioned projects
exploring the work of designers as diverse as Charles Rennie Mackintosh and Roger Excoffon.
Working on typefaces based on the forms of these designers provided Grimshaw with two
opportunities: first, to step into the shoes of other lettering artists and closely examine their thinking
and methodology, and second, to re-inspire himself as a creative person and explore new areas of
letterform design.
Work files dated March 1998, well into his illness, give proof to Grimshaw’s passion for the
typographic arts. Two typefaces were in the final stages of design. Anyone who had ventured into his
loft studio would have also seen many more ideas and multitudes of typographic experiments falling
out of drawers, pinned to walls, or piled on top of each other. It is this wealth of undiscovered
experiment that presents the most frustrating question: “What if?”
This article was adapted from Patrick Baglee’s profile of Phillip Grimshaw, which appeared in U&lc
Online. Baglee is Design Editor at Real Time Studio and chair of the Typographic Circle in London.