It all started with this tweet.
Anyone know of a ‘Duchamp’ font like this one, but better? This one is splotchy. twitter.com/soulellis/stat…
— Paul Soulellis (@soulellis) April 9, 2013
I was designing a visual identity and catalogue for Library of the Printed Web, a collection of artists’ books in a box that I’m presenting at the Venice Biennale next month. And I wanted to reference the dotted letterforms on the cover of Marcel Duchamp’s notorious 1934 Green Box, which have always intrigued me. The punch-cut letters feel both mechanical and handmade; somehow both analog and digital. They seem to float somewhere between the early 20th century and today. These are ambiguities that echo the core themes of Library of the Printed Web.
Just two-and-a-half hours later, Nina Stössinger posted this sketch.
— Nina Stössinger (@ninastoessinger) April 9, 2013
I was startled. Nina’s response was generous, and what it implied (a new font for my project) seemed too good to be true. I had expected my question to yield a link or two, or a few ideas, but not a customized typeface. More back-and-forth followed on Twitter, and then we moved to email, as Nina continued working.
It’s difficult to believe that casual correspondence on Twitter might yield something as formal and designed as a font. But as we got further into it, and as I realized that Nina was game (and dedicating serious talent to the project), I thought: of course this is happening. This is the beauty of Twitter. The best of the web. I’m engaged with a stellar community of creative people online and I’ve met many of these talented folks in person, including Nina (last summer, in Weymouth). It’s a very real community, and at times, feels like the natural extension of a private studio practice into public space. And that’s exactly what happened when Nina posted the work-in-progress to Typophile for feedback—an intense, supportive discussion suddenly developed around the font, directly impacting (and improving) the work. Openness and generosity of spirit (and vulnerability) lead to serendipitous collaboration, which leads to beautiful new work.
But without Nina’s enthusiasm and remarkable talent, none of this would have happened.
Just two weeks later, Sélavy is complete. This fully-realized, exquisite display typeface (254 glyphs), composed entirely of identical dots, was designed by Nina and based on the original 13 punched-out caps of Duchamp’s 1934 Green Box («LA MARIEE MISE A NU PAR SES CELIBATAIRES MEME»). Today, in the same spirit of generosity that created this work, we are releasing the font publicly as a free download under an SIL Open Font License. Download and enjoy! Looking forward to seeing how it’s used.
The Typeboard met and reviewed your type design but unfortunately decided that we are not interested in publishing your fonts in our FontFont library. If you are working on any other type designs we would be happy to review them at our next Typeboard meeting in May. Please also state your postal adddress.
Oh well, thought I’d try. The good news is that Stetson is and always will be a free download on Soulellis.com.
Stetson, my first font, is now available for free download under an Open Font License. That means you can use it commercially if it’s embedded in a larger product (like a book or an app), but it may not be sold on its own. So go ahead and give it a whirl—distribute it, manipulate it, make it better!
It’s a single-weight, all-caps display face so I imagine it may have limited appeal. For me, Stetson is a critical part of the Weymouths project. It comes directly out of my research, and in a way, “locates” me and the exploration within a highly specific time and place (in a shed in Weymouth, MA on January 11, 2012). It’s both of the 19th and 21st centuries, both analog and digital, vibrating between the shed, the Stetson Shoe Co. factory down the road, and the town’s ancestral heritage in Weymouth, England.
I’m now using the font in the design of the Weymouths books, and I’ll be posting design studies soon. Meanwhile, if you use Stetson and feel like sharing, send me a note—I’d love to see how it’s interpreted by others.