Typography of Rome & A Happy Birthday to You!

Offset Type Stand near the Pantheon, 2009

Buon compleanno Roma!!! Happy Birthday Rome!!! Dear gosh look at how many wonderful birthdays we are celebrating this year! We have the twins to thank for finding this city over 2, 763 years ago today! If you don't know the story, here's a little synopsis of the ancient drama: Romulus and Remus were the twin sons of Rhea (the daughter of Numitor/ niece of Amulius -- the latter wanted her to become a Vestal Virgin in order to attain the family wealth). After the twins were born, Amulius left them to drown in the river. The two little tots were soon found by a she-wolf who cared for them (hence the she-wolf is the emblem of the city). Once older, they eventually killed Amulius so that their grandfather Numitor can restore the throne. Wanting to find a new city of their own -- that's when all the real drama began. Romulus favored to build on the Palatine Hill while Remus the Aventine Hill. Well, now there's no other way to put it -- bang bang, Remus is dead. Now you know why it's named ROME and not REM. Got it? Yikes.

 Now back to type....

Type: It consumes the world we live, without us even knowing it. Look around you, besides you, even under you -- you'll find it. It's everywhere. It's beautiful. Please appreciate it? I'm not sure why I'm so emotional these days, but it really breaks my heart knowing that some, well actually most people (dare I say it) -- do not care about type.  My duty to the world from here on in is: TO CONVINCE THEM OTHERWISE!

I begin with Rome: where everything is more beautiful (partially bias oops). It by no means, is a design city -- but there is a personable quality about the signages that is quite remarkable. What am I talking about? Okay for instance, the local restaurants who still have their menus in hand written type and it somehow, in some strange way -- remains lovely.  Or what about the graffiti you hate to love? But it's so prevalent you cannot let it go unnoticed, like I said, even if you hate it.  Or better yet, the small time shops whose daily specials are hand written on the chalkboard near the store front? Am I the only person getting emotional right now? Does anyone find these treasures as sweet and beautiful as I?  If not, then everything in this gosh damn society is devalued.

Below are some photographs I took and have selected for this entry from my "Let's remember how happy I was in Rome" file. Sorry in advance if you feel like you are experiencing, first hand, my weekly Roman nostalgia sessions.

Enjoy!

Ponte Regina Margherita, 2009

2009

Piazza del Popolo, 2009

"Il futuro non e' piu' quello di una volta" -- "The future is not what it once was" 2009

Villa Borghese, 2009

A presto!
Mari

Terrible Tuesdays are history.

It's one of those days, the day after Monday—that Terrible Tuesday. They aren't

normally terrible; but when the weather is this cold, skies are this gray and

internship hunting feels like you're grating parmigiano (as in it's smelly and crumbly), Tuesdays feel pretty terrible. It's moments like these when I'm in desperate need of external intervention. Some days it's friends, most days its food, but today it's Bruno. Industrial designer, architect, poet, philsopher, educator, author of children'sbooks and one of my favorites—I send a warm invisible hug to
Milanese graphic designer Bruno Munari.

WHY BRUNO? To be quite honest, I came across his little treasures by chance while

in Rome visiting the Ara Pacis museum with my art and architecture class. Unfortunately, he's not as internationally known as he deserves to be, but is now well respected by me and my circle of design friends (Hi Elisabeth). Though an admirer of his work, his words and love of children would leave the greatest impression on me. I spent most hours at the exhibit transcribing all the text from the walls (which included quotes about his design philosophy), into my journal. From that moment on, I was his biggest fan.

My journal dated from Jan 29, 2009

Today, while in conversation with a friend, I stopped to wonder about what really happens to children the moment they've decided on a career path. Is this silly? I don't think so. At seven, everything is possible. If you can dream it, you've got it. At that age, we were anything we wanted to be. We were the towns greatest bubble gum bubble makers, the world's greatest heart surgeons (because well, it had something to do with love didn't it?), the bravest fishermen/women of catfish, the most colorful wardrobe dressers and the most skillful eaters of spaghetti. Yes, your experiences are different from mine but more or less, you get the gist. Age seventeen then comes along, and we're forced to choose. The most despairing moment in every human beings life. Knowing that lines called limits, now exist. Decisions exist. Deadlines exist. It breaks my heart every time I think about it. The realization of becoming an adult. Today, I wondered why I chose to be a "designer".  Actually, I wondered why in the heck I would ever WANT to become a designer. It's madness. It's sleep depriving. It's technologically needy. Then I remember Bruno.

"Leave your studio and look at the streets too — how many discordant colors, how many show windows that could be more beautiful, how many signs in bad taste, how many wrong shapes...why not do it? Why not help improve the look of the world we live, side by side with the public that doesn't understand us and couldn't care less about art?"

  Photos taken at Ara Pacis Museum, 2009

  Photos taken at Ara Pacis Museum, 2009

Then Terrible Tuesdays are not so terrible.

Baci.