Modern Art is San Serif.
These past two weeks have really caused me to open my eyes and realize how far I've come in the realm of typography. Without realizing, I've been making works of art and design using only the forms of letters and the guidance, praise, and mixed condemnation of a man I used to despise. I've written about Michael Geiger before, but I must say that one can't even begin to even barely understand this man until their third and forth round in the brawl of type. He is a much easier photographer than typographer, because this raging German has a passion for letters that cannot be explained so easily in the English language, hence his thick accent and often impossible-to-understand class transcripts.
("Type Weave:" Use of every letter of the alphabet
and numbers 1-9 only once and then duplicated and rotated.
Simply put, it's fucking hard.)
All the girls in my class have had their bouts with Geiger. Simply put, he's an ass, and he focuses on the women most of all, or so it feels that way. Me and a group of about three other girls have felt this way since day one of type two, and now nearing the end of type three, although it still aggravates us that he treats us like dirt sometimes, criticizes us when its unnecessary, or singles us out intentionally. I guess in turn it's made at least my typography skills come a long way, even though I have an undying urge to punch him in the face, and dare I say I actually like the outcome of what I do, because Geiger has started softening up with me, and telling me how he honestly feels about things. For example, instead of singling me out in front of our whole class to tell them I had done a shitty job, he singled me out to tell everyone that my inability to conform to the edges of an assignment and constant full-throttle betrayal of rules and guidelines impressed him, because I was one of the only one's he had ever known whom which he could appreciate for that very reason because I could actually pull off being a rule-breaker, which was flattering, to say the least. He later expressed in front of the class that I (ME, only me) flat-out sucked with a pencil in hand, which got some gasps and open jaws in my direction to see my expression become cold, but I was okay with that remark, because at least it was the truth. Sure, I can recognize a capital Garamond G, but I can't draw it for shit. In my defense on this subject, however, any of you who have not tried to free-hand a letter should try and witness just how incredibly difficult it really is.
("Cut-Offs:" Experimenting with cutting vital parts of letters
off and making them barely legible without losing legibility completely, then
incorporating them into a poster as illustration with the saying.
Also, JPEGS are the monsters living under a letter's bed. I hate them.)