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Tory Alphabet 2
Tory Alphabet 2
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Yale French Studies
Typographic Characters:
Tension between Text and Drawing
YFS 84, Boundaries: Writing & Drawing, ed. M. Reid, C 1994 by Yale University.
63
eye and the mind" (Biffures, 18) which "allow written words
from the invisibility of the page-with their denser, more active chem-
ical substances, so that they are at the very birth" (ibid., 19). A page is
meant to be read. It is not meant to be looked at. Printed words on a
page are barely noticeable. As soon as reading begins, our perception of
typography ends. Typographic artifices force the reader to look at the
text. They make it visible as a thing and as a thing endowed with an
existence of its own.
Typographic characters are signs which are "of a particular design
or style useful for the composition or printing of texts. "3 They are signs
in the ancient sense of the word "aliquid stat pro alique" [one thing
which stands for another]. They lack autonomy, since they represent
letters of the alphabet, thus corresponding to the phonetic uses of the
language. They are, first, meant to be read and to represent discourse.
Such is their function-the reason for their being drawn, engraved, and
melted into the metal.
But these signs are not transparent as is a pane of glass which the
eye crosses without noticing in order to grasp external objects. In other
words, they are not mere referential signs, nor empty ones, different in
this respect from the symbol of the alphabet whether phonetic or not,
devoid of any intrinsic meaning. Characters are indeed drawings,
sometimes beautiful unto themselves. Great artists have drawn them:
Bodoni, Auriol, Garamond, Alde Manuce, Albert Durer, Leonard de
Vinci, Geoffroy Tory, etc.... The roman letters of Tory are "of an
inimitable purity of form and unsurpassed elegance. "14As drawings,
these characters are composed of a graphic signifier (the drawing itself
the lines, the tracing) and of an iconic signification specific to this
drawing.5 Of "mechanical" characters, with thick, rectangular serifs,
typographers say they "indicate an origin, that of a time of victorious
mechanization, the rise of industry and bourgeois democracy"6 and
they speak of them as "stable," "persuasive," "convincing," "indus-
trial, " "mechanical," (Lindekens, 32).
Over the years, and especially after 1830, tens of thousands of typo-
graphic characters were created. They differ in design, height, and type
7. Charles Peirce, Ecrits sur le signe (Paris: Le Seuil, 1978); Umberto Eco, Semioti-
que et philosophie du langage (Paris: PUF, 1988).
8. Paul Vakry, "Les Deux vertus d'un livre," GEuvres completes (Paris: Gallimard,
La Plkiade, 1957-1960), vol. 2, 1246.
II
tablets or in visible places, so that each letter can be seen and read in a
straight line, in frontally and in good order," (ibid.). They are not in-
verted or crooked as was often the case. The width of spaces between
letters and between lines is standardized; between letters, the width is
that of an i; between lines, the height of an i. Tory also prohibits mixing
characters of different height, design, and type thickness. He never
juxtaposes small and large print, Gothic letters and roman type-
which was a common practice in the sixteenth century because of the
shortage of types of the same family in printing cases.
From Tory on, the printed text was standardized. Little by little it
took on the uniform aspect to which we are accustomed and which, in
fact, has allowed printed texts to be read silently, quickly, and unambig-
uously.
On second thought, the so-called convention of typographic har-
mony cannot be, in spite of its name, in harmony with the printed text.
Indeed, there are no uniform texts. The contents (themes, ideas, articu-
lation, characters, etc . . . ) vary constantly, especially in works which
do not belong to fixed genres or to genres with constraining rules, such
as tragedy or epic poems. In order to grasp their content and represent
them, one would have to use characters with different designs, height,
and print thickness, adapted to the discursive and stylistic variations
of the texts.
Restif de la Bretonne, who was a typographer and printed his own
books, is undoubtedly the first to have understood the ambiguities of
typographic conformity: "His system was to use in the same volume
characters of different sizes which he varied according to the presumed
importance of a particular period.""
In Monsieur Nicolas,12 an autobiographical novel, he varies the
characters in height, and this in function of the style he adopts. Thus,
passionate or important passages, in which the destiny of the hero is at
stake and which are written in an exalted and lofty style, are printed in
pica ["cicero"]: rather large characters, "from eleven to twelve points
depending on the printing presses."'3 Passages in which the author
observes the mores of his contemporaries and which are written in
medium style are printed in brevier: average height characters. Finally,
himself to grasping the most diverse noises of the outside world, from
the most violent to the slightest, and which differ from one another
according to acoustic properties: intensity, stridency, pitch, rapidity.
He represents them not as they are (which is impossible except by
recording the poem instead of printing it), but synaesthetically, by
miming the world's noises with graphic and visual equivalents: type
thickness, design, height, and disposition of characters. Block letters,
big, thick, and black are reserved for the representation of "violent"
auditory sensations; italics, fine, leaning characters which seem to be
traced by hand, are for rapid sensations.
Marinetti, and to a lesser degree Apollinaire, thus choose mimesis
at the expense of typographic agreement, especially in "instantane-
ous" poems where thicknesses, designs, and heights allow for the ex-
pression of the lyricism of matter exalted by Marinetti when he grasps
cacophonous noises (exploding shells, sputtering arms, machines, mo-
tors, etc ... ) and shows them hic et nunc on the page.
The question of typographic consistency is again raised, although
in terms different from those of Marinetti, in Paradisl6 by Philippe
Sollers.
But even if typographic consistency standardizes printed texts, they
are never totally uniform. Capitals A, B, or E, among others, do not
have the same design as their corresponding lower cases: a, b, e....
From a semiological point of view, punctuation marks, underlining,
numbers, blanks (and other typographic devices) are very different
from letters and stand at the opposite pole from the alphabet. They do
not replace any unit of language. They have no value (in the sense that
they do not stand for a unit), but they signal a meaning, a rupture, a
hierarchy, an analysis. As a result, a printed text which retains punc-
tuation marks, blanks, upper cases, etc . . ., cannot be uniform be-
cause it is made up of heterogeneous signs.'7
Such is not the case for Paradis. There are neither capitals, nor
indented lines, nor paragraphs, nor punctuation marks. Sollers re-
places ", . ? " by the words "comma," "period," "semi-colon,"
"colon," "question mark," so that, except for blanks between words,
the text of Paradis is uniform. Such an enterprise belongs to the "de-
construction" of the "Western text," as it was constituted by printing
III
18. Wilhelm Ovink, "Psychologie des caracteres," La Chose impnimee, op. cit.
19. Francis Picabia, 391, 14 (Paris: Le Terrain vague, 1920).
poetry. These letters, precisely, are never looked at, since, upon read-
ing, signs are abolished and reading and looking are mutually exclu-
sive. Tzara shows up materiality (ink, designs, devices) for what it is in
itself: self-evident, meaningless. It is the domain of absolute arbitrari-
ness; a text which is made to be seen is independent of what is read.
From number 12 on, the type used in 391 changes constantly; varia-
tions unlike what we see in Monsieur Nicolas or Les Mots en liberte,
these variations have no relationship with the texts.
In #12, page 4, one of Picabia's poems is published. The title is not
made up of words but of seven punctuation marks which are there for
themselves, not for the meanings they carry in a sentence. They are
arranged at the top, above the poem; they are separated from the text by
a line, as is the adjoining poem on the same poem on the same page,
signed by Ribemont-Dessaignes ("Un Prompt Tu" [A Prompt You]),
printed in an elevated type body and black thickness. They are juxta-
posed and follow one another, without relation to the text. They are
an exclamation mark, placed upside down beneath the written line,
a period, a dash, an exclamation mark, a colon, a comma, ellipses:
IV
for example collects at least one in Clair de Terre:2' "PSTT," a list of all
the Bretons in the phone book. Other ready-mades have a problematic
status. They are ILE and MEMOIRES D'UN EXTRAIT DES ACTIONS
DE CHEMINS. Of all the poems in the collection, they are the only
ones not to have titles. "ILE" and "MEMOIRES D'UN EXTRAIT DES
ACTIONS DE CHEMINS. ", as they are referred to above, are not titles,
but the unabridged text one can read on the page. Thus, "ILE" amounts
to the single word "ILE"-although it is perhaps something other
than a "word": simply three letters or the last three letters of a word,
the beginning of which might not have been printed. Similarly, the
poem referred to as "MEMOIRES D'UN EXTRAIT DES ACTIONS DE
CHEMINS. ", is a bit longer than the one before it, since it is composed
of eight words that do not make up a sentence (although they are
followed by a period) and may not belong to the same sentence.
These "poems" can be distinguished from the other poems in the
collection by their typography. They are printed in very big black type.
MEMOIRES is laid out in four lines as follows:
MEMOIRES D'UN
EXTRAIT DES
ACTIONS DE
CHEMINS.
The lines are of the same length and occupy the width of the page.
Certainly, the last two lines have fewer letters than the first two; but
they are printed in larger sizes of type which, in any case, regularly
increase from beginning to end.
The three letters of ILE are arranged horizontally, but in the direc-
tion of the height of the page. I, L, E are in huge type body, more than
four centimeters in height and width, so that between the three of
them, they occupy a good third of the page. Furthermore they are
characters which Thibaudeau classifies as "caracteres de fantaisie"
[fancy type]. The characteristic of this type is that it is never used to
print a text to be read in a sustained fashion, much less a literary text.
They are related to urban work and, since they are designed to call the
attention of passersby, they are sometimes used for posters or adver-
tisements. They are shaded characters in relief, which can be seen by
an effect of perspective, in three dimensions: height, width, and thick-
ness. They are also luminous type. Inside the letter, in the enormous
ink blot drawn on the paper, appear in white the contours of the letters
I, L, E. Finally, the first letter, I, has been placed upside down. This can
be seen by the shadow it casts which stands out in the background or
on the left, while the shadows are thrown in front of the other
characters.
These two "texts" have been described. It is now a matter of inter-
preting them.
PSST, the list of Bretons in the phone book, is a "ready-made,"
either verbal or literary, which obeys the "rules" laid down by Marcel
Duchamp. A "ready-made" is a manufactured object-a bottle-rack, a
street urinal, etc . . . , produced in a factory and sold as a utilitarian
object. It is "non-art" which is exhibited in the middle of paintings.
Marcel Duchamp, it would seem, prompts spectators to reexamine
critically the almost religious conception they have of art; and also,
since it was the time of derision, his intent is to criticize art itself, by
showing that perhaps it may not deserve to be revered.
Characters are manufactured objects: metal blocks, produced in
foundries. For ILE, Breton chose thick types (mecanes), with a heavy
design, big serifs, which have something industrial in their outline,
and are used, in theory, only for ordinary works, so-called works of
labor.
ILE and MEMOIRES D'UN EXTRAIT DES ACTIONS DE CHE-
MINS. are two typographic "ready-mades. " The emphasis is placed not
on the text (there isn't one), but on the very types themselves which are
made visible. By integrating them into a collection of poems, Breton
prompts us to look at them, to contemplate them for themselves, as
objects-or traces of objects-having a surface area, a form, lines, a
substance full of ink. In these two pages, as in Une Nuit d'echecs gras
by Tzara, the type is devoid of any signification, since it is unconnected
with a text or its contents. They are no longer signs of anything. They
are there as material objects, or substance.
Typography is misunderstood.
The plot of the novel El Ard [The Earth] by Abderramane Charkaoui
takes place in rural Egypt in the 1930s.22 It is also a "modem" text:
page 6 numbers eighteen indented lines and sixteen ellipses. The En-
glish translation23 reduces the indented lines to eleven and the ellipses
to one. In the Arab text, the typography creates a visual rhythm. The
English version leaves out these effects. The stress falls only on the
realistic and rustic significations of the novel.
In the same way, the first editions of Sarrazine by Honore de Balzac
include many hyphens, ellipses, indented lines. They were printed at a
time when French typography was very inventive. In subsequent edi-
tions, printed during Balzac's lifetime (including the one used by Ro-
land Barthes for his commentary of Sarrazine in S/Z), everything easy-
going, new, "modern" (hyphens, ellipses, indented lines) is left out, and
the text is a massive, heavy, and austere compact block.
Typography is not dependent on language but on the graphic arts.
Literature is the privileged domain of the word. Within it, graphic
questions occupy only a marginal space. Moreover, our conception of
the author-a "unique" individual, whose presence vouches for the
text, the only authority capable of taking responsibility for it-pre-
vents taking typography into account since it assumes there is not one
single author, but two: the author of the text and that of the book; the
novelist and the typographer (or the person in charge of printing, the
artistic director, or the designer), who has chosen the characters, has
guided the writer's choices. That is why in Litanie d'eau by Butor or
Conversation-Sinfonietta by Tardieu, there is, next to the writer's
name, the name of the typographer (Faucheux and Massin) who partici-
pated in the creation of the work, its coauthor. Like a film, but to a
lesser degree, the printed literary work becomes "collective": the work
of several authors which goes counter to the romantic myth of the
genius, creator of a universe, in the image of God.
To speak of typography requires precise technical and historical
knowledge.
Consider dada typography from 1917 to 1920. Literary critics pro-
claim it "innovative," "free," "full of daring," "revolutionary." "It
subverts traditional codes." It is "a page-setting and a typography
which are revolutionary for the time."24 In the above quoted judg-
ments, the emphasis is placed on the ruptures created by those typo-
graphical marks. But these opinions are not founded on any systematic
study of typography from 1830 to 1917. Furthermore, typographic tra-
dition, which dada is supposed to "revolutionize," is implicitly as-