00006 · Caslon

The Caslon typeface, which you’re reading right now, has been my favorite typeface for thirty years. It’s ride or die with me and Caslon.

I’d been working with an understanding of typefaces for close to ten years before I spent the summer of 1993 reading and applying the principles of Robert Bringhurst’s “The Elements of Typographic Style.” The book was a series of epiphanies. One revelation was that Caslon was “my” typeface.

I was self-publishing poetry and prose in those days, and I realized the Caslon typeface “sounded” like my writing voice. I couldn’t stand to set any of my writing in anything besides Caslon. It looked inauthentic or pretentious. But when I saw my words set in Caslon, there was no dissonance between the author and typographic voices, just a bit of tight harmony.

I love Caslon because it’s simple, extremely legible, and very American. Benjamin Franklin loved Caslon too, and used it in almost everything he printed. Important American documents, like the Declaration of Independence, are printed in Caslon.

That our breakup letter to the English is in a typeface designed by an Englishman, William Calson, is a nice bit of irony I enjoy. Calson was the first important typeface designed in England and off the continent of Europe.

There’s a just-right soupiness to Caslon. The strokes are neither too thick nor thin, and the contrasts are just chewy enough. It’s not overly designed broth, it’s not hey look at me chili.

The look is an all-day everyday salt and pepper read that everyone loves, with some weird little typographic inconsistencies that keep a long read interesting. The quirkiness of the lowercase “a” and “e” are a nice subtle bay leaf hit that threads through a column of text. Whenever the uppercase “J” and “Q” make an appearance, it’s like some fresh parsley bobbing on the surface. The J drops extra long, and the Q does a kinda John Travolta move. I like to zoom in to 800% to look at those letters whenever they pop up.