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 rehashed decades-old debates about “Hakzidenz,” “improvement in mind” and “less is more.” We dutifully cursed every single one of Helvetica’s knockoffs. We swooned again over its subtleties (“Ah, that mermaid of an R!”). 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 mourned the fading non-color of an old black shirt proudly exclaiming that “HELVETICA IS NOT AN ADOBE FONT”. We dug out the homage books and re-read the hate articles. Helvetica’s 50-year anniversary celebrations in 2007 were overwhelming and contagious.
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