Groucho is a very high-contrast script. It remined me of Groucho's moustache so I thought it was a good name.

Tom Carnase and Ronne Bonder’s freewheeling ITC adaptation of ATF’s turn-of-the-century Caslon boldfaces.

Groches is a contemporary typeface. The typeface can span from a refined vintage feel to an industrial futuristic vibe. Forged from geometric and technical styles with wide characters, make this font type so strong and bold. Comes in two different styles, clean and rusty it brings a vintage touch to any creative project and elevates contemporary editorial layouts. Groches very suitable to use for headlines, sign, display, and logotype, or take it for a spin with short-form body copy.

楷書と草書の中間的な筆法の書体です。 字体を崩しすぎず、読みやすくなるようデザインしています。

楷書と草書の中間的な筆法の書体です。 字体を崩しすぎず、読みやすくなるようデザインしています。

I could dance with you until the cows come home. On second thought I'd rather dance with the cows until you come home. Groucho Marx. Home Sweet Home Dingbats is a 30 dingbat font of home things. Use them as dingbats or enlarge the small pictures and use them as clipart. Silhouettes include several lamps, clock, chaise, chairs, sofa, nightstand, chest, TV & remote, tables, stool, steps, beds, mirror, art, a fireplace and even a baby grand piano.

The hand lettered title found on the 1924 sheet music for the tango “Sentimiento Gaucho” (“Sentimental Gaucho”) offered a different take on the thick-and-thin lettering that permeated the late 1920s through the Art Deco age. A ‘slash’ or ‘swipe’ is cut through the characters (similar to “Directa JNL” – another take on this type of design). Last Tango JNL is the digital recreation of this novelty lettering and is available in both regular and oblique versions.

An extreme headline font with six optical variants. Black 24 is loosely based on ITC Grouch (1970) by Tom Carnase. It has some 2000 hand-adjusted kerning pairs for TNT (that’s Tight, Not Touching), a very popular type treatment from the seventies and eighties. Take your pick, or get them all, so you don’t have to buy another one later on.

The master of the dancing brush, Angel Koziupa, and the node-obsessed perfectionist, Alejandro Paul, offer up another bucket of fun with Malambo. This time Koziupa allows his brush to jitter one whole millimeter, and Paul digitizes with two eyes instead of his usual three. Follow your heart, but consume an ounce of peroxide first. Full of energy and cheeky mischief, Malambo tells the eye amusing stories of mirrorless shaving accidents, wine mistakenly poured over the morning cereal, and someone who trips over his own shadow on the dance floor, yet keeps on dancing. And dancing is what this typeface is all about. Malambo is a traditional Argentine dance performed by the gauchos (the Argentine equivalent of 19th century North American cowboys?). The gauchos are still around in the less than touristic areas of Argentina. And although they dance quite passionately and make the heartiest parrillas, most of them probably don't know what a font is. But you know, and we know. And that's something. Malambo was selected as the Best in show display font at the Biennial Letras Latinas.

S P O I L E R A L E R T ! We don't want to be a drag, a wet blanket or a spoilsport, but we're here to tell you that everything before “but” is bulls*it! Yep, if you're a merrymaker, a carouser, a jester, a reveler or a live wire, we're here to poop your party with our latest knicker-twister, KILLJOY! Call us cynics, call us crabs, grouches, grumpy old men, sourpusses or bores, but we're the kind of Killjoys who just have to make some noise... sound effects (sic) everybody, so listen up even if you can't handle the truth... and here’s OUR truth; Keep Calm and be a Fabulous Killjoy! Yes, it’s easy to be mean -- but why should anybody else have all the fun? Or all the fonts?

The Waldorfschrift family was created in digital form in the years 1993-1994 by Joachim Frank, inspired by the naturally organic letters from the anthroposophical movement of the 20th century of Rudolf Steiner . In nature there are no right angles, straight lines or complete uniformity, but instead round corners, varying thicknesses and all kinds of variability. This is what the anthroposophical movement created in their buildings, their art, in their music – and also in their lettering. And this Font is like the plants in nature: it grows upwards, branches out, letters hugs to some letters, with others they keeps more distance, some letters proudly stretch their belly, others crouch in the corner - a completely natural font. Take a look at the brand of Weleda (the natural cosmetics company), Demeter (one of the biggest organic foods companies), Filderklinik (a great anthroposophical hospital in Germany) and you will see these great companies work with different but organic letter styles. More recently, Joachim revisited the Waldorf fonts with modern type design software and added extra characters such as the euro sign, and extra weights to make the fonts useable for a wide variety of design tasks. Dez 21: A big update: All fonts have been digitized again and given a complete character set, new kerning, minor bugs removed.

Rian Hughes’ 15th collection of fonts, “112 Hours”, is entirely dedicated to numbers. Culled from a myriad of sources – clock faces, tickets, watches house numbers – it is an eclectic and wide-ranging set. Each font contains only numerals and related punctuation – no letters. A new book has been designed by Hughes to show the collection, and includes sample settings, complete character sets, source material and an introduction. This is available print-to-order on Blurb in paperback and hardback: http://www.blurb.com/b/5539073-112-hours-hardback http://www.blurb.com/b/5539045-112-hours-paperback From the introduction: The idea for this, the fifteenth Device Fonts collection, began when I came across an online auction site dedicated to antique clocks. I was mesmerized by the inventive and bizarre numerals on their faces. Shorn of the need to extend the internal logic of a typeface through the entire alphabet, the designers of these treasures were free to explore interesting forms and shapes that would otherwise be denied them. Given this horological starting point, I decided to produce 12 fonts, each featuring just the numbers from 1 to 12 and, where appropriate, a small set of supporting characters — in most cases, the international currency symbols, a colon, full stop, hyphen, slash and the number sign. 10, 11 and 12 I opted to place in the capital A, B and C slots. Each font is shown in its entirety here. I soon passed 12, so the next logical finish line was 24. Like a typographic Jack Bauer, I soon passed that too -— the more I researched, the more I came across interesting and unique examples that insisted on digitization, or that inspired me to explore some new design direction. The sources broadened to include tickets, numbering machines, ecclesiastical brass plates and more. Though not derived from clock faces, I opted to keep the 1-12 conceit for consistency, which allowed me to design what are effectively numerical ligatures. I finally concluded one hundred fonts over my original estimate at 112. Even though it’s not strictly divisible by 12, the number has a certain symmetry, I reasoned, and was as good a place as any to round off the project. An overview reveals a broad range that nonetheless fall into several loose categories. There are fairly faithful revivals, only diverging from their source material to even out inconsistencies and regularize weighting or shape to make them more functional in a modern context; designs taken directly from the source material, preserving all the inky grit and character of the original; designs that are loosely based on a couple of numbers from the source material but diverge dramatically for reasons of improved aesthetics or mere whim; and entirely new designs with no historical precedent. As projects like this evolve (and, to be frank, get out of hand), they can take you in directions and to places you didn’t envisage when you first set out. Along the way, I corresponded with experts in railway livery, and now know about the history of cab side and smokebox plates; I travelled to the Musée de l’imprimerie in Nantes, France, to examine their numbering machines; I photographed house numbers in Paris, Florence, Venice, Amsterdam and here in the UK; I delved into my collection of tickets, passes and printed ephemera; I visited the Science Museum in London, the Royal Signals Museum in Dorset, and the Museum of London to source early adding machines, war-time telegraphs and post-war ration books. I photographed watches at Worthing Museum, weighing scales large enough to stand on in a Brick Lane pub, and digital station clocks at Baker Street tube station. I went to the London Under-ground archive at Acton Depot, where you can see all manner of vintage enamel signs and woodblock type; I photographed grocer’s stalls in East End street markets; I dug out old clocks I recalled from childhood at my parents’ place, examined old manual typewriters and cash tills, and crouched down with a torch to look at my electricity meter. I found out that Jane Fonda kicked a policeman, and unusually for someone with a lifelong aversion to sport, picked up some horse-racing jargon. I share some of that research here. In many cases I have not been slavish about staying close to the source material if I didn’t think it warranted it, so a close comparison will reveal differences. These changes could be made for aesthetic reasons, functional reasons (the originals didn’t need to be set in any combination, for example), or just reasons of personal taste. Where reference for the additional characters were not available — which was always the case with fonts derived from clock faces — I have endeavored to design them in a sympathetic style. I may even extend some of these to the full alphabet in the future. If I do, these number-only fonts could be considered as experimental design exercises: forays into form to probe interesting new graphic possibilities.