Buffalo Bill is a revival of an old favorite font that’s been around since 1888, the James Conner’s Sons foundry book of that same year is the oldest source I've seen for this old classic. If you're looking for the font used as the logo for Buffalo Bill’s Irma Hotel in Cody Wyoming please refer to the FontMesa Rough Riders font. New to the Buffalo Bill font is the lowercase and many other characters that go into making a complete type font by today’s standards. The Type 1 version is limited to the basic Latin and western European character sets while the Truetype and OpenType versions also include central and eastern European charcters. William F. (Buffalo Bill) Cody called America’s Greatest Showman was one of the United State’s first big celebrity entertainers known around the world, millions of people learned about the Old West through Buffalo Bill’s Wild West shows which traveled throughout the United States and Europe. William Cody, at age eleven, started work on a cattle drive and wagon train crossing the Great Plains many times, he further went on to fur trapping and gold mining then joined the Pony Express in 1860. After the Civil War Cody went on to work for the Army as a scout and hunter where he gained his nickname Buffalo Bill. In 1872 William Cody started his entertainment career on stage in Chicago along with Texas Jack who also worked as a scout, the Scouts of the Prarie was a great success and the following year it expanded to include Wild Bill Hickok and was eventually named The Buffalo Bill Combination. By 1882 Texas Jack and Wild Bill Hickok had left the show and Buffalo Bill conceived the idea for the traveling Wild West Show using real cowboys, cowgirls, sharpshooters and Indians plus live buffalo and elk. The Wild West shows began in 1883 and visited many cities throughout the United States. In 1887 writer Mark Twain convinced Cody to take the show overseas to Europe showing England, Germany and France a wonderful and adventuruos chapter of American history. The shows continued in the United States and in 1908 William Cody combined his show with Pawnees Bill’s, in 1913 the show ran into financial trouble and was seized by the Denver sheriff until a $20,000 debt (borrowed from investor Harry Tammen) could be paid, Bill couldn't pay the debt and the loan could not be extended so the assets were auctioned off. William Cody continued to work off his debt with Harry Tammen by giving performances at the Sell’s-Floto Circus through 1915 then performed for another two years with other Wild West shows. William F. Cody passed away in 1917 while visiting his sister in Denver and is buried on Lookout Mountain joined by his wife four years later. Close friend Johnny Baker, the unofficial foster son of William Cody, began the Buffalo Bill Memorial Museum in 1921, over the years millions of people have visited William Cody’s grave and museum making it one of the top visitor attractions in the Denver area. William F. Cody romantisized the West creating the Wild West love affair that many still have for it today through books and cinema.

Helvetica’s 50-year anniversary celebrations in 2007 were overwhelming and contagious. We saw the movie. Twice. We bought the shirts and the buttons. We dug out the homage books and re-read the hate articles. We mourned the fading non-color of an old black shirt proudly exclaiming that “HELVETICA IS NOT AN ADOBE FONT”. We took part in long conversations discussing the merits of the Swiss classic, that most sacred of typographic dreamboats, outlasting its builder and tenants to go on alone and saturate the world with the fundamental truth of its perfect logarithm. We swooned again over its subtleties (“Ah, that mermaid of an R!”). We rehashed decades-old debates about “Hakzidenz,” “improvement in mind” and “less is more.” We dutifully cursed every single one of Helvetica’s knockoffs. We breathed deeply and closed our eyes on perfect Shakti Gawain-style visualizations of David Carson hack'n'slashing Arial — using a Swiss Army knife, no less — with all the infernal post-brutality of his creative disturbance and disturbed creativity. We then sailed without hesitation into the absurdities of analyzing Helvetica’s role in globalization and upcoming world blandness (China beware! Helvetica will invade you as silently and transparently as a sheet of rice paper!). And at the end of a perfect celebratory day, we positively affirmed à la Shakti, and solemnly whispered the energy of our affirmation unto the universal mind: “We appreciate Helvetica for getting us this far. We are now ready for release and await the arrival of the next head snatcher.” The great hype of Swisspalooza '07 prompted a look at Max Miedinger, the designer of Neue Haas Grotesk (later renamed to Helvetica). Surprisingly, what little biographical information available about Miedinger indicates that he was a typography consultant and type sales rep for the Haas foundry until 1956, after which time he was a freelance graphic designer — rather than the full-time type designer most Helvetica enthusiasts presume him to have been. It was under that freelance capacity that he was commissioned to design the regular and bold weights of Neue Haas Grotesk typeface. His role in designing Helvetica was never really trumpeted until long after the typeface attained global popularity. And, again surprisingly, Miedinger designed two more typefaces that seem to have been lost to the dust of film type history. One is called Pro Arte (1954), a very condensed Playbill-like slab serif that is similar to many of its genre. The other, made in 1964, is much more interesting. Its original name was Horizontal. Here it is, lest it becomes a Haas-been, presented to you in digital form by Canada Type under the name of its original designer, Miedinger, the Helvetica King. The original film face was a simple set of bold, panoramically wide caps and figures that give off a first impression of being an ultra wide Gothic incarnation of Microgramma. Upon a second look, they are clearly more than that. This face is a quirky, very non-Akzidental take on the vernacular, mostly an exercise in geometric modularity, but also includes some unconventional solutions to typical problems (like thinning the midline strokes across the board to minimize clogging in three-storey forms). This digital version introduces four new weights, ranging from Thin to Medium, alongside the bold original. The Miedinger package comes in all popular font formats, and supports Western, Central and Eastern European languages, as well as Esperanto, Maltese, Turkish and Celtic/Welsh. A few counter-less alternates are included in the fonts.

I spend a lot of time following two obsessions: packaging and hand lettering. Alongside a few other minor obsessions, those two have been my major ones for so many years now, I've finally reached the point where I can actually claim them as “obsessions” without getting a dramatic reaction from the little voice in the back of my head. When you spend so much time researching and studying a subject, you become very focused, directionally and objectively. But of course some of the research material you run into turns out to be tangential to whatever your focus happens to be at the time, so you absorb what you can from it, then shelf it — like the celebrity bobblehead that amused you for a while, but is now an almost invisible ornament eating dust and feathers somewhere in your environment. And just like the bobblehead may fall off the shelf one day to remind you of its existence, some of my lettering research material unveiled itself in my head one day for no particular reason. Hand lettering is now mostly perceived as an American art. Someone with my historical knowledge about lettering may be snooty enough to go as far as pointing out the British origins of almost everything American, including lettering — but for the most part, the contemporary perspective associates great lettering with America. The same perspective also associates blackletter, gothics and sans serifs with Germany. So you can imagine my simultaneous surprise and impatience when, in my research for one of my American lettering-based fonts, I ran into a German lettering book from 1953, by an artist called Bentele. It was no use for me because it didn't propel my focus at that particular time, but a few months ago I was marveling at what we take for granted — the sky is blue, blackletter is German, lettering is American — and found myself flipping through the pages of that book again. The lettering in that book is upbeat and casual sign making stuff, but it has a slightly strange and youthful experimentation at its heart. I suppose I find it strange because it deviates a lot from the American stuff I'm used to working with for so long now. To make a long story short, what’s inside that German book served as the semilla, which is Spanish for seed, for the typeface you see all over these pages. With Semilla, my normal routine went out the window. My life for a while was all Bezier all the time. No special analog or digital brushes or pens were used in drawing these forms. They're the product of a true Bezier process, all starting with a point creating a curve to another point, which draws a curve to another point, and so on. It’s a very time-consuming process, but at the end I am satisfied that it can get to pretty much the same results easier and more traditional methods accomplish. And as usual with my fonts, the OpenType is plenty and a lot of fun. Experimenting with substitution and automation is still a great pleasure for me. It is the OpenType that always saves me from the seemingly endless work hours every type designer must inevitably have to face at one point in his career. The artful photos used in this booklet are by French photographer and designer Stéphane Giner. He is very deserving of your patronage, so please keep an eye out for his marvelous work. I hope you like Semilla and enjoy using it. I have a feeling that it marks a transition to a more curious and flexible period in my career, but only time will tell.