As you consider the words you need to convey, it’s clear that you’re looking for something that feels just as precise and intentional as the message you’re promoting. Structia is a typeface that does not shy away from its influence—it leans into the hard edges and geometries that are typically associated with brutalist architecture. And yet, even as it draws inspiration from an austere and somewhat daunting aesthetic, Structia also possesses a sense of control and discipline that is undeniably alluring. At the core of Structia’s appeal is its mechanical precision. Every line, every curve, is carefully calculated and crafted to create a sense of mathematical accuracy that is difficult to resist. There is no room for error or imperfection in Structia—every stroke is sharp and precise, with chamfered corners that add an extra layer of texture and visual interest. This is not a typeface that allows for ambiguity—it demands clarity and specificity, and it delivers both with remarkable consistency. But Structia is more than just a collection of angular shapes and precise lines. It is a typeface that conveys a sense of scientific accuracy and chilly logic—a kind of elegance and refinement that is unexpected. There is a beauty in the way that Structia balances the hard-edged geometries of brutalism with a sense of control and finesse that is undeniably modern. It is a typeface that feels at once futuristic and timeless—a design that can be used in a wide variety of contexts and still feel fresh and relevant. And then there are the two effect styles—Structia Panel and Structia War—which take the basic geometry of the typeface and push it even further into the realm of science fiction. Structia Panel feels like something you might see on a spacecraft or in the architecture of an alien planet, with thin, laser-like struts that give it a futuristic edge. Structia War, meanwhile, takes the concept of Structia Panel and adds a layer of battle damage, as if the letters have been through a cosmic conflict and emerged victorious. In the end, Structia is a typeface that demands attention and respect. It is not a typeface that will fade into the background or blend in with the crowd—it is a design that is meant to be noticed and admired. And yet, even as it draws your eye with its hard-edged geometries and precise lines, it also possesses a sense of elegance and refinement that is undeniably alluring. Structia is a typeface that balances the old and the new, the hard and the soft, the mechanical and the human—and the result is something truly remarkable. Most Latin-based European, and some Cyrillic-based writing systems are supported, including the following languages. A Afaan Oromo, Afar, Afrikaans, Albanian, Alsatian, Aromanian, Aymara, Bashkir (Latin), Basque, Belarusian (Latin), Bemba, Bikol, Bosnian, Breton, Bulgarian, Cape Verdean, Creole, Catalan, Cebuano, Chamorro, Chavacano, Chichewa, Crimean Tatar (Latin), Croatian, Czech, Danish, Dawan, Dholuo, Dutch, English, Estonian, Faroese, Fijian, Filipino, Finnish, French, Frisian, Friulian, Gagauz (Latin), Galician, Ganda, Genoese, German, Greenlandic, Guadeloupean Creole, Haitian Creole, Hawaiian, Hiligaynon, Hungarian, Icelandic, Ilocano, Indonesian, Irish, Italian, Jamaican, Kaqchikel, Karakalpak (Latin), Kashubian, Kikongo, Kinyarwanda, Kirundi, Komi-Permyak, Kurdish (Latin), Latvian, Lithuanian, Lombard, Low Saxon, Luxembourgish, Maasai, Macedonian, Makhuwa, Malay, Maltese, Māori, Moldovan, Montenegrin, Ndebele, Neapolitan, Norwegian, Novial, Occitan, Ossetian, Ossetian (Latin), Papiamento, Piedmontese, Polish, Portuguese, Quechua, Rarotongan, Romanian, Romansh, Russian, Sami, Sango, Saramaccan, Sardinian, Scottish Gaelic, Serbian, Serbian (Latin), Shona, Sicilian, Silesian, Slovak, Slovenian, Somali, Sorbian, Sotho, Spanish, Swahili, Swazi, Swedish, Tagalog, Tahitian, Tetum, Tongan, Tshiluba, Tsonga, Tswana, Tumbuka, Turkish, Turkmen (Latin), Tuvaluan, Uzbek (Latin), Venetian, Vepsian, Võro, Walloon, Waray-Waray, Wayuu, Welsh, Wolof, Xhosa, Yapese, Zapotec Zulu and Zuni.

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.