Documents Décoratifs by Alphonse Mucha

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I’ve had a copy of the Dover edition of these plates for some time, but it’s good to find a digital copy at last, especially now I can see that Dover bleached all the subtle background tones to a solid white. The artwork looks much better in its original state. It was also a little surprising to discover that Documents Décoratifs was originally a collection of loose sheets in a portfolio, not a book as I always thought.

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The plates were Alphonse Mucha’s contribution to that small collection of publications intended to assist other designers and craftspeople in their decorative work. Mucha’s drawings break down his style into a series of isolated motifs and design elements: panels, borders, figures, flowers, lettering and other details, together with a few pages of more complete designs. He also offers several pages of suggestions for applying his Art Nouveau flourishes to jewellery, furniture and other household objects. I’ve used parts of these designs a few times in my own work, most recently in the Bumper Book of Magic. Even if you don’t have a practical use for the plates they’re all very beautiful pieces in themselves, especially the pencil drawings.

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Baurenfeind’s capitals

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Six of the enigmatic capitals.

After writing about my occasional and not very diligent search for the origin of an unidentified set of calligraphic capitals, Jacob Filipp resolved the whole matter for me very quickly. The mystery dates back to 1997 when I bought a Pepin Press book, Ornamental Type, a substantial overview of historic lettering which contains many quality reproductions but no information at all as to the origin of the alphabets. One set of calligraphic capitals were immediately attractive even though many of them had their flourishes cropped by their containing frames. I’ve since used these letters a number of times in print designs, and also used them as page backgrounds for the very first version of my website. In 2002 there was still a tendency in web design for things to look streamlined, cybernetic or futuristic, qualities I was happy to ignore. After ten years or so of using and reusing the letters the question of their origin began to nag at me, hence my recent attempts to resolve the mystery.

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From Baurenfeind’s Schreib-Kunst at the Letterform Archive.

It turns out that the capitals were the work of Michael Baurenfeind (1680–1753), a German calligrapher whose exceptional work appeared on these pages just over a year ago. Had I been more observant I would have noticed that one of the pages in the 1716 edition of Baurenfeind’s Schreib-Kunst is the alphabet in question (I even posted the page here!) but the copy of the book at the Internet Archive is missing the page that shows the first half of the alphabet. Every time I’d gone searching for the capitals I’d been using the letter A as a guide, looking for the reflected flourishes at the foot of the letter in other alphabets. The obvious thing to do would have been to look for more of the letters using image searches, which is what Jacob did, eventually locating a capital D on a deleted post at Design Observer.

I’m pleased to have Michael Baurenfeind revealed as the creator of the capitals, his work stands out even among his equally talented contemporaries. The cropped flourishes mean they aren’t ideal for print purposes—in the past I’ve used them in backgrounds where the cropping goes unnoticed—but I’ve thought a few times of making a new set with the cropped sections restored. Now that I know Baurenfeind is the designer this would be easier to do. Any hesitation about how to properly complete a flourish or fill in a missing area could be resolved by consulting Baurenfeind’s other lettering designs. My thanks again to Jacob for resolving the mystery!

Previously on { feuilleton }
Mira Calligraphiae Monumenta
Liber Artificiosus Alphabeti Maioris
Michael Baurenfeind’s extravagant calligraphy
Bergling’s Art Alphabets
Grand capitals
Costume capitals
Paulini’s mythological alphabet
Joseph Balthazar Silvestre’s Alphabet-album
Johann Theodor de Bry’s Neiw Kunstliches Alphabet
The Book of Ornamental Alphabets
Paul Franck’s calligraphy
Gramato-graphices
John Bickham’s Fables and other short poems
Letters and Lettering
Studies in Pen Art
Flourishes

Weekend links 773

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The Tower of Babel from Turris Babel (1679) by Athanasius Kircher, showing how wide the Tower would have to be at its base to reach the Moon.

• The week’s literary resurrection: Penguin announced Shadow Ticket, a new novel by Thomas Pynchon. “Hicks McTaggart, a one-time strikebreaker turned private eye, thinks he’s found job security until he gets sent out on what should be a routine case, locating and bringing back the heiress of a Wisconsin cheese fortune who’s taken a mind to go wandering…”

• The week’s musical resurrection: Stereolab announced Instant Holograms On Metal Film, their first new album since Not Music in 2010. Aerial Troubles is the new single with a video which has prompted complaints in the comments about the use of AI treatments for the visuals.

• At Public Domain Review: Modern Babylon: Ziggurat Skyscrapers and Hugh Ferriss’ Retrofuturism, a long read by Eva Miller. Previously: The Metropolis of Tomorrow by Hugh Ferriss.

• This week in the Bumper Book of Magic: Ben Wickey is selling some of the original art from his Lives of the Great Enchanters pages.

• At Wormwoodiana: The Golden Age of Second-Hand Bookshops is now. Mark Valentine explains.

• “Alvin Lucier is still making music four years after his death – thanks to an artificial brain.”

• At Colossal: Hundreds of fantastic creatures inhabit a sprawling universe by Vorja Sánchez.

• Coming soon from Radiance Films: A blu-ray disc of Essential Polish Animation.

• Pattern design and illustration by Gail Myerscough.

• Steven Heller’s font of the month is Homage Script.

• New music: Sabi by Odalie.

• RIP Max Romeo.

Babylon (1968) by Dr John | War In A Babylon It Sipple Out Deh (1976) by Max Romeo | Babylonian Tower (1982) by Minimal Compact

Mira Calligraphiae Monumenta

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These pages turned up when I was searching for (and failing to find) a specific set of calligraphy capitals. Sixteenth-century calligraphy books commonly present their texts and alphabets in collections of engraved plates. Mira Calligraphiae Monumenta stands apart from its peers with coloured inscriptions and page after page of illuminated embellishments—fruits, flowers, insects and other animals that have nothing to at all do with the calligraphic exercises. The reason for the illustrations is explained in a note on the Getty website: the calligraphy by Georg Bocskay came first (in 1561–1562), the book being intended as a showcase of calligraphic styles which demonstrated Bocskay’s incredible skill and mastery of a wide range of lettering. The illuminations were added thirty years later (from 1591–1596) by Joris Hoefnagel at the request of Rudolf II, Holy Roman Emperor, and an art patron with a celebrated taste for the unusual. Rudolf’s court was filled with alchemists, John Dee and Edward Kelly among them; he commissioned paintings from Giuseppe Arcimboldo, had his own zoo, and his Kunstkammer was one of the largest ever assembled. Hoefnagel’s embellishments have nothing to do with penmanship but the book was only one of a vast number of exquisite or curious objects that Rudolf either commissioned or collected.

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Looking through the book I wonder what Georg Bocskay would have thought about all the superfluous additions to his meticulous work. I’m also reminded of a pair of equally odd volumes: the Voynich Manuscript (which Rudolf II was reputed to have owned, although there’s no evidence for this), and Luigi Serafini’s Codex Serafinianus, both of them books which combine their pictures of plants (and many other things in Serafini’s case) with unusual scripts. Mira Calligraphiae Monumenta is available today in facsimile reprints but most people will see the pages via the Getty’s scans. The Getty website isn’t the best place to browse the pages, however. You’re better off going here where the entire book may be seen on a single page.

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As for my calligraphic quest, the search continues to be a fruitless one although in this case it did turn up a quantity of painted fruit. The capitals I’ve been looking for are in a book I bought in the 1990s, a guide to alphabet design through the ages whose pages offer little information as to the source of their lettering designs. It’s not a great problem by any means but things like this often nag at me. In the past I’ve borrowed letters from the enigmatic alphabet for my own designs. I like to know the origin of a thing when I’m using it myself. The search will continue…

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M-A-N-C-H-E-S-T-E-R

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Presenting a new item for sale at Redbubble. I was intending to upload this quickly then get on with other things, but after examining the artwork it became apparent that the piece would benefit from an overhaul in order to make something that worked well at poster size. The original design dates from 2004 when I was asked by friends at the Manchester District Music Archive to contribute to a limited run of postcards they were putting together based on Manchester’s music history. Since I was working for postcard size I didn’t finesse the artwork as much as I would have done had I been working for a larger printing. What you see here is a replication of the original design at a much larger size, with a couple of details adjusted and a more substantial change in the substitution of the black-and-white photo (see below).

The original postcard set appeared two years before I began writing these posts so I’ve never had the chance to compile a list of all the references. Some of these will be familiar to Mancunians (and many Britons) of a certain age but I was trying to be allusive rather than obvious while also following three simple rules:
1) Ten panels, each one of which contains a different letter of the city’s name in a different typeface.
2) Each panel referring to a different musical trend, a notable group or venue.
3) The whole design to proceed chronologically, from the 1960s to the present day.


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The music: Psychedelia.
The type design: Decorated 035.

The first two letters are rather vague attributions since the city didn’t have much of a national musical profile until the late 1970s. Popular Manchester groups of the 1960s included The Hollies, Herman’s Hermits, and The Mind Benders but there wasn’t a discernible Manchester scene the way there was with post-Beatles Liverpool. So “M” stands for the psychedelic era in general, while Decorated 035 is one of the typical mid-century sign fonts that you would have seen around the city.


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The venue/music: The Apollo Theatre/Punk.
The type design: Jackson.

“A” is for the Apollo Theatre in Ardwick Green, the city’s most prominent music venue in the 1970s, although I doubt that anyone would guess the attribution. The Art Deco building is a good venue but here’s never been anything distinctive about its signage, hence the choice of Jackson, another very decade-specific font which has conveniently wide letterforms. The rip refers to torn posters and punk graphics while the opposed green/red colour scheme is borrowed from one of the Virgin label designs of the late 70s, something that might also be taken as a very tenuous reference to the Virgin Megastore in Market Street.


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The music: Buzzcocks.
The type design: A pair of Zs from the cover of Orgasm Addict.

The first Buzzcocks single featured a striking sleeve by Malcolm Garrett (design) and Linder (collage) which provide the graphics here, with the “N” being formed by two letters from the band’s name which was printed vertically on the cover.


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The music: Joy Division.
The type design: A letter from the cover of Substance.

Substance
, the first Joy Division compilation, was released in 1988 so this is a little anachronistic but Brett Wickens’ letter is a more recognisable detail than one from the cover of Closer. The textured sleeve of the group’s debut album, Unknown Pleasures, is referred to by the panel background.

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