I was thinking R because it
serves as my initial, or O for its zen-like simplicity. But I quickly realized that the
question was being asked typographically...this, after all, was a presentation on form and
shape. And in that case, the
answer was swift and clear.
The letter Q.
I have always been a fan of Q
ever since my dinky little fingers could trace its outline. It has the simplicity of the O but with
the flair of that swash that the letter R can only dream of.
Formal type design has been a
fascination of graphic designers since the Greeks invented our modern alphabet;
in fact, I have been to many presentations in which designers insist that
graphic design is type design. Nothing matters more.
Personally I would not go that
far because, to me, formal type design offers relatively little room for
self-expression compared to, say, image creation. In some ways, the more personal and distinctive a letterform,
the harder it is to read, thereby undermining the visual communication which is
the basic goal in the first place.
Still, there are a few areas in the discipline where flourishes are called for and even useful. Italic capitals, the descenders of lower-case Y's, and of course, ampersands.
It is with this in mind that I came to the Q with its mix of staid circle and daring swash that
calls out for the designer's touch.
Most historians of type believe
that the Q evolved from a Phoenician character called the Qoph or Goph – which meant "monkey” – and
may account for the tail. The Qoph
also represented an emphatic guttural
sound not found in English or any Indo-European language. Sometime after 900 BCE, the Greeks
adopted Qoph as they began to assemble what
would become the modern Romance language alphabet. But finding the
guttural sound difficult to pronounce, they changed it to
"Koppa."
Confusion with other letters of
the evolving alphabet – the Greek letter Kappa, for example – led to the banishment
of the symbol from the Greek alphabet for a time. Enter the Etruscans, who saved the day for Q. The Koppa continued in their variation
of the Greek alphabet even though the Etruscans had basically three different
symbols representing the k-sound.
Besides the Koppa, which was used before the vowel sound '"u",
there was a "c" used before other vowels, and a "k" used
before an "a".
The Romans, next in the
alphabetic line, decided to use all three symbols and over time the Roman Koppa
evolved into a round shape with a curly tail,
to distinguish it from
the letters "o" and
"p". It is that curly
tail that has been one of the delicacies of typographic attention.
But, as in
all design arts, the creator does not have a completely free hand. We find our freedom within constraints. When used as an ordinary letter in text
– as opposed to a graphic statement meant to be seen not read – the tail must
not be so small as to confuse the letter with an "o", or so large as
to be distracting and carry the eye away from the
text. Too fancy and you lose the
simplicity; too simple, you lose the grace. It should also flow left to right to facilitate reading, but
still appear to be part of the letter and not an appendage.
Think that
all sounds simple enough? Then try
your hand on some large-scale samples of the letter O and see what happens; nothing
makes the point like personal experience.
You will quickly see that designing a Q is more than just a typographic
dalliance. It is a true
exploration into that thin realm where creativity and practicality meet.
The place
where all great design dwells.
Q.E.D. I rest my case.
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