Monday, January 20, 2014

Jewell / Chapter 5

The sixth chapter of Typographic Design: Form and Communication settles on the typography grid, a system dating as far back as 3,000 B.C. Even hieroglyphics were organized in proportional harmony, attributing some of their aesthetic beauty to the framework by which they were arranged. Mechanization in Europe (15th century) took these systems to a new level, but no one culture, movement, or time period can be congratulated on the complete, global acceptance of the grid. Finally, though, after grids emerged as pragmatic and precise in 1950’s Switzerland, they were essentially universal by the second half of the 20th century.

This chapter first brings up a few characteristics that are found in and affect a gridded design before outlining the different types of grids: space and structure, proportion, and the square. Space is the common denominator for typographic communication. While typographical elements create subliminal divisions of space, those divisions create spatial structure. Also, as these elements shift in size, weight, and position, yet new structures emerge. Alas, they’re kinetic in nature, essentially in constant motion. Proportion, a dictator of divided space, as well, is achieved by way of ratio in order to govern the ultimate size and placement of type. While designers surely often rely on their own, innate sense of proportion, the chapter argues that considering the trusted models based in theory, such as the golden section or the Fibonacci sequence, can be helpful. Both of these examples are even found repeatedly in nature and biology, and gift the natural world an appreciated aesthetic to be mimicked in design. Finally, the square is a similarly natural division of the golden section, and is the major player of any gridded work.

Four major grids exist: single column, multi-column, modular, and improvisational. Single column grids stage simple, linear narratives; love affairs between the text block and its corresponding margins, if you will. Margins inversely give way for the content, or serve as the perfect location for supporting content known as marginalia. They’re home to the negative space that speaks life into the positive space of text, forcing the attention of the reader to the important stuff. Multi-column grids, on the other hand, require the designer to do a little more work and consider the content and all of its particular needs. They provide boundaries and define which space is “active,” as well as columns and their corresponding gutters, and flow lines to create axis for the content’s alignment. Multi-column grids are an intense balance between size, line length, and interline spacing, and each one affects the others. A chance to size will, in turn, require adjustment to the remaining two. These grids are also bodies of complex rhythm, rooted in the repetition and contrast of columns versus the other elements; they are full of visual surprise and dynamic results. Cousins to the multi-column grids, modular grids differ in the way that they can present more complex information with a higher degree of accuracy and clarity. Modules are formed by the intersections of horizontal/vertical lines, and the corresponding units provide zones to drop unique or different parts of the information. The goal of modular grids can be summed up as a means of creating distinct hierarchy between organized units of content. The beauty, of course, is that modules can be combined into various sizes and shapes; a balancing act between variety and unity. Muller-Brockmann, a leader in the development of the International Typographic Style (1950’s and 1960’s), said the grid shows the designer, “conceives his work in terms that are constructive and oriented to the future.” As the chapter confirms, “A successful grid is a performance, a concerto of typographical instruments working independently together” (107).

The last grid system is more ambiguous, and the chapter infers it should strictly be left to the masters. Improvisational structures are effective, then, when the designer has an unwavering grasp on the material he or she is working with, and thereby fully understands the relationships between its elements in order to craft a custom display of the hierarchy. These said designers are, after all, “information architects” translating objects into typographical forms reflective of their status in the order; they can drop things on the blank canvas and intuitively arrange them until a rational and visually appealing solution is decided upon.

As a web designer, I’m often confronted with the notion that grids make the blobs of content I’m given into a truly interactive and intuitive system for users to navigate and understand. My job is to translate clients’ words and ideas into something viable for a screen – or any number of screens – and for their users or visitors to understand without much discomfort or unnecessary effort. Grids are of the top ingredients that go into a successful design, and I appreciated this chapter’s overview.


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