Over the past couple of years I received quite a number of unusual and surprising requests to modify my type designs to suit projects of personal nature, but none top the ones that asked me to typeset and modify tattoos using Burgues Script or Adios. At first the whole idea was amusing to me, kind of like an inside joke. I had worked in corporate branding for a few years before becoming a type designer, and suddenly I was being asked to get involved in personal branding, as literally “personal” and “branding” as the expression can get. After a few such requests I began pondering the whole thing from a professional perspective. It was typography, after all, no matter how unusual the method or medium. A very personal kind of typography, too. The messages being typeset were commemorating friends, family, births, deaths, loves, principles, and things that influenced people in a deep and direct way, so much so that they chose to etch that influence on their bodies and wear it forever. And when you decide to wear something forever, style is of the essence. After digging into the tattooing scene, I have a whole new respect for tattoo artists. Wielding that machine is not easy, and driving pigment into people’s skin is an enormous responsibility. Not to mention that they're some of the very few who still use a crafty, hands-on process that is all but obsolete in other ornamentation methods. Some artists go the extra mile and take the time to develop their own lettering for tattooing purposes, and some are inventive enough to create letters based on the tattoo’s concept. But they are not the norm. Generally speaking, most tattoo artists use generic type designs to typeset words. Even the popular blackletter designs have become quite generic over the past few decades. I still cringe when I see something like Bank Script embedded into people’s skin, turning them into breathing, walking shareholder invitations or government bonds. There’s been quite a few attempts at making fonts out of whatever original tattoo designer typefaces can be found out there - wavy pseudo-comical letters, or rough thick brush scripts, but as far as I could tell a stylish skin script was never attempted in the digital age. And that’s why I decided to design Piel Script. Piel is Spanish for skin. In a way, Piel Script is a removed cousin of Burgues Script. Although the initial sketches were infused with some 1930s showcard lettering ideas (particularly those of B. Boley, whose amazing work was shown in Sign of the Times magazine), most of the important decisions about letter shapes and connectivity were reached by observing whatever strengths and weaknesses can be seen in tattoos using Burgues. Tattoos using Adios also provided some minor input. In retrospect, I suppose Affair exercised some influence as well, albeit in a minor way. I guess what I'm trying to say is there is as much of me in Piel Script as there is in any of the other major scripts I designed, even though the driving vision for it is entirely different from anything else I have ever done. I hope you like Piel Script. If you decide it to use it on your skin, I'll be very flattered. If you decide to use it on your skateboard or book cover, I'll be just as happy. Scripts can't get any more personal than this. Piel Script received the Letter2 award, where they selected the best 53 typefaces of the last decade, organised by ATypI.

Quill-formed roman/gothic with an olde-worlde flavor. Some background in the designer's own words: "A series of fonts came to mind which would be rooted in the medieval era -for me, a period of intense interest. Prior to Gutenberg's development of commercial printing with type on paper in the mid-1400s, books were still being written out by hand, on vellum. At that time, a Bible cost more than a common workman could hope to earn in his entire lifetime. Men like William Tyndale devoted their energies to translating the Scriptures for the benefit of ordinary people in their own language, and were burned to death at the stake for doing so. Those in authority correctly recognized a terminal threat to the fabric of feudal society, which revolved around the church. "This religious metamorphosis was reflected in letterforms: which, like buildings, reflect the mood of the period in which they take shape. The medieval era produced the Gothic cathedrals; their strong vertical emphasis was expressive of the vertical relationship then existing between man and God. The rich tracery to be seen in the interstices and vaulted ceilings typified the complex social dynamics of feudalism. Parallels could be clearly seen in Gothic type, with its vertical strokes and decorated capitals. Taken as a whole, Gothicism represented a mystical approach to life, filled with symbolism and imagery. To the common man, letters and words were like other sacred icons: too high for his own understanding, but belonging to God, and worthy of respect. "Roman type, soon adopted in preference to Gothic by contemporary printer-publishers (whose primary market was the scholarly class) represented a more democratic, urbane approach to life, where the words were merely the vehicle for the idea, and letters merely a necessary convenience for making words. The common man could read, consider and debate what was printed, without having the least reverence for the image. In fact, the less the medium interfered with the message, the better. The most successful typefaces were like the Roman legions of old; machine-like in their ordered functionality and anonymity. Meanwhile, Gutenberg's Gothic letterform, in which the greatest technological revolution of history had first been clothed, soon became relegated to a Germanic anachronism, limited to a declining sphere of influence. "An interesting Bible in my possession dating from 1610 perfectly illustrates this duality of function and form. The text is set in Gothic black-letter type, while the side-notes appear in Roman. Thus the complex pattern of the text retains the mystical, sacred quality of the hand-scripted manuscript (often rendered in Latin, which a cleric would read aloud to others), while the clear, open side-notes are designed to supplement a personal Bible study. "Tyndale is one of a series of fonts in process which explore the transition between Gothic and Roman forms. The hybrid letters have more of the idiosyncrasies of the pen (and thus, the human hand) about them, rather than the anonymity imbued by the engraving machine. They are an attempt to achieve the mystery and wonder of the Gothic era while retaining the legibility and clarity best revealed in the Roman form. "Reformers such as Tyndale were consumed with a passion to make the gospel available and understood to the masses of pilgrims who, in search of a religious experience, thronged into the soaring, gilded cathedrals. Centuries later, our need for communion with God remains the same, in spite of all our technology and sophistication. How can our finite minds, our human logic, comprehend the transcendent mystery of God's great sacrifice, his love beyond understanding? Tyndale suffered martyrdom that the Bible, through the medium of printing, might be brought to our hands, our hearts and our minds. It is a privilege for me to dedicate my typeface in his memory."