Type designers are crazy people. Not crazy in the sense that they think we are Napoleon, but in the sense that the sky can be falling, wars tearing the world apart, disasters splitting the very ground we walk on, plagues circling continents to pick victims randomly, yet we will still perform our ever optimistic task of making some little spot of the world more appealing to the human eye. We ought to be proud of ourselves, I believe. Optimism is hard to come by these days. Regardless of our own personal reasons for doing what we do, the very thing we do is in itself an act of optimism and belief in the inherent beauty that exists within humanity. As recently as ten years ago, I wouldn't have been able to choose the amazing obscure profession I now have, wouldn't have been able to be humbled by the history that falls into my hands and slides in front of my eyes every day, wouldn't have been able to live and work across previously impenetrable cultural lines as I do now, and wouldn't have been able to raise my glass of Malbeck wine to toast every type designer who was before me, is with me, and will be after me. As recently as ten years ago, I wouldn't have been able to mean these words as I wrote them: It’s a small world. Yes, it is a small world, and a wonderfully complex one too. With so much information drowning our senses by the minute, it has become difficult to find clear meaning in almost anything. Something throughout the day is bound to make us feel even smaller in this small world. Most of us find comfort in a routine. Some of us find extended families. But in the end we are all Eleanor Rigbys, lonely on the inside and waiting for a miracle to come. If a miracle can make the world small, another one can perhaps give us meaning. And sometimes a miracle happens for a split second, then gets buried until a crazy type designer finds it. I was on my honeymoon in New York City when I first stumbled upon the letters that eventually started this Affair. A simple, content tourist walking down the streets formerly unknown to me except through pop music and film references. Browsing the shops of the city that made Bob Dylan, Lou Reed, and a thousand other artists. Trying to chase away the tourist mentality, wondering what it would be like to actually live in the city of a billion tiny lights. Tourists don't go to libraries in foreign cities. So I walked into one. Two hours later I wasn't in New York anymore. I wasn't anywhere substantial. I was the crazy type designer at the apex of insanity. La La Land, alphabet heaven, curves and twirls and loops and swashes, ribbons and bows and naked letters. I'm probably not the very first person on this planet to be seduced into starting an Affair while on his honeymoon, but it is something to tease my better half about once in a while. To this day I can't decide if I actually found the worn book, or if the book itself called for me. Its spine was nothing special, sitting on a shelf, tightly flanked by similar spines on either side. Yet it was the only one I picked off that shelf. And I looked at only one page in it before walking to the photocopier and cheating it with an Argentine coin, since I didn't have the American quarter it wanted. That was the beginning. I am now writing this after the Affair is over. And it was an Affair to remember, to pull a phrase. Right now, long after I have drawn and digitized and tested this alphabet, and long after I saw what some of this generation’s type designers saw in it, I have the luxury to speculate on what Affair really is, what made me begin and finish it, what cultural expressions it has, and so on. But in all honesty it wasn't like that. Much like in my Ministry Script experience, I was a driven man, a lover walking the ledge, an infatuated student following the instructions of his teacher while seeing her as a perfect angel. I am not exaggerating when I say that the letters themselves told me how to extend them. I was exploited by an alphabet, and it felt great. Unlike my experience with Ministry Script, where the objective was to push the technology to its limits, this Affair felt like the most natural and casual sequence of processions in the world – my hand following the grid, the grid following what my hand had already done – a circle of creation contained in one square computer cell, then doing it all over again. By contrast, it was the lousiest feeling in the world when I finally reached the conclusion that the Affair was done. What would I do now? Would any commitment I make from now on constitute a betrayal of these past precious months? I'm largely over all that now, of course. I like to think I'm a better man now because of the experience. Affair is an enormous, intricately calligraphic OpenType font based on a 9x9 photocopy of a page from a 1950s lettering book. In any calligraphic font, the global parameters for developing the characters are usually quite volatile and hard to pin down, but in this case it was particularly difficult because the photocopy was too gray and the letters were of different sizes, very intertwined and scan-impossible. So finishing the first few characters in order to establish the global rhythm was quite a long process, after which the work became a unique soothing, numbing routine by which I will always remember this Affair. The result of all the work, at least to the eyes of this crazy designer, is 1950s American lettering with a very Argentine wrapper. My Affair is infused with the spirit of filete, dulce de leche, yerba mate, and Carlos Gardel. Upon finishing the font I was fortunate enough that a few of my colleagues, great type designers and probably much saner than I am, agreed to show me how they envision my Affair in action. The beauty they showed me makes me feel small and yearn for the world to be even smaller now – at least small enough so that my international colleagues and I can meet and exchange stories over a good parrilla. These people, whose kindness is very deserving of my gratitude, and whose beautiful art is very deserving of your appreciation, are in no particular order: Corey Holms, Mariano Lopez Hiriart, Xavier Dupré, Alejandro Ros, Rebecca Alaccari, Laura Meseguer, Neil Summerour, Eduardo Manso, and the Doma group. You can see how they envisioned using Affair in the section of this booklet entitled A Foreign Affair. The rest of this booklet contains all the obligatory technical details that should come with a font this massive. I hope this Affair can bring you as much peace and satisfaction as it brought me, and I hope it can help your imagination soar like mine did when I was doing my duty for beauty.

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In a not-too-distant future, humanity was ruled by a powerful, technologically advanced empire known as the Synod. The Synod controlled all forms of communication, and through this, they controlled the minds of the people. But a small group of rebels, known as the Resistance, had managed to evade the Synod's surveillance and formed a secret underground movement. They were determined to overthrow the Synod and restore freedom to the people. One of the Resistance's key members was a young artist named Trystån. He had a unique talent for creating powerful, visually striking posters that captured the spirit of the Resistance's message and spread it to the masses. Trystån had just completed a new poster, one that would be critical to the Resistance's plans. It depicted a single, outstretched hand holding a traditional Kimarii laser staff, with the words "Libertat!" emblazoned across the top. The poster featured a striking and powerful font that perfectly captured the spirit of the Resistance's message. The font was a combination of bold lines, elegant confident curves, and strong angles, giving it a sense of strength and determination. The lettering was large and prominent, filling up much of the poster, making it hard to miss. The letters seemed to be almost carved into the surface, giving the impression of something that was permanent and unshakable. The font was colored in dark shades, and was a sans serif typeface, that gives the message a very modern and current feel yet also feels vintage and retro, connecting the present with the struggles of the past. And with multilingual support, the typeface ensured that the message of the Resistance could be disseminated in every language on the planet. The background was minimalistic and in contrast, with a neutral palette, with just a hint of a sand-like color, representing the harsh conditions of the land that the people were fighting for their rights. The focus was all on the lettering, and how it conveyed the message. The poster was indeed a moving piece of graphic design, with its strong, striking font, and powerful imagery. It was clear that Trystån had put a lot of thought and care into its design. The poster, he hoped, would connect with people on an emotional level and inspire them to rise up against the oppression of the Synod Empire. The poster was set to be distributed at a major rally in the capital, where the Resistance was hoping to gain the support of thousands of citizens. But the Synod was not about to let this happen. They had long suspected the existence of the Resistance and had been working to infiltrate their ranks and discover their plans. The night before the rally, the Synod launched a surprise raid on the Resistance's hideout, capturing Trystån and several other members of the Resistance. Trystån was thrown into sand pits and interrogated by the Synod's top agents. They wanted to know everything about the Resistance's plans, including the details of the poster and the rally. Trystån, knowing the importance of the poster, refused to give in, even under the harshest of conditions. Meanwhile, the rally was drawing near, and the Resistance was desperate to get the poster out to the public. They knew that it was their only hope of gaining the support they needed to overthrow the Synod. They came up with a plan to smuggle the poster out of the hideout, but it would be a risky endeavor. As the rally began, the Resistance made their move, slipping the poster into the hands of the crowd. Trystån's poster had made a big impact in the rallies, and soon it became the symbol of hope for the resistance, and the visual representation of their struggle for freedom. The poster had become the catalyst for the revolution, and it would be remembered for many years to come as the symbol of the fight for freedom and democracy. The image of the outstretched hand holding the Kimarii laser staff struck a chord with the people, and they began to rise up against the Synod's oppression. Trystån, still locked away in the sand pits behind a stasis feild, could only imagine the scene unfolding outside. But he knew that his work had helped to spark a revolution, and he felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. The Resistance, with the help of the rally, was able to overthrow the empire, and Trystån was released, celebrated as a hero and hailed as the artist who helped to bring about the new era of freedom and democracy. The poster Trystån had designed had become the symbol of a new era, and it would hang in museums and public places as a reminder of the power of resistance and art, in the face of oppression. Features: regular and light weights numbers and punctuation multilingual characters