I’m a bibliophile who dabbled in calligraphy and hand lettering for a while, and who subsequently worked in computer graphics for three years in the early eighties. During those years, I spent vast amounts of time editing bitmaps of Helvetica and Clarendon, simulating kerning (for a graphics display system that wasn’t anywhere near true kerning), and reveling in the actual typeface choices that my office neighbors in the art department could select at will.

I left the job when 3M bought out the company (I feared there was no stable future in computer graphics), but the experience of type design, umm, left an imprint on me.

I just am. I don’t care about why. What makes me a typophile? Looking for beauty in glyphs or typefaces.

I could never write very well. I always feel like I am wrestling with a pen. It is a dream come true to make things that look good to me, even if I had the help of the typeface designer.

I have to add here that I’m not very good when it comes to color. I’m into shapes and space. And after reading about Jonathan Hoefler being color-blind it even makes more sense to me.