Rants and Wisdom
As far back as I can remember, one could identify an architect by his or her handwriting, or as it is called in the trade, “Lettering.”
Construction drawings completed in large firms were shared, even before the days of computer modeling programs. You could always identify the author of a particular detail or sheet by the ever so slight personality in their lettering. Sometimes in architectural school, but moreover in your first job, you learned how to letter correctly with a straightedge, triangle and the chiseled point of an HB lead. With time and practice, you could letter quickly, anywhere, anytime. It was an art form in itself.
From Frank Ching’s “Architectural Graphics”–once the “Bible” for young architects:
Now I sadly note that young architects never learn this skill and, like drafting itself, it is slowly disappearing. The computer programs that replicate, cut, paste and infill also create a faux “architects font,” but it’s not the same. Handsome – not to mention legible – handwriting was a mark of distinction for architects. Today, as soon as the architect steps away from the computer to handwrite something as simple as an address on an envelope for delivery (yes, real delivery with a real envelope), we are faced with an ugly, messy scrawl.
Lettering was a unique practice that took time and rigor to learn. Well-executed lettering showed precision and an awareness of style, order and balance. It was a way architects could express pride of profession, and it was a great connector of all architects, everywhere. Watching it go away is like attending the symphony and seeing the musicians have exchanged their meticulous black tie for blue jeans. Something beautiful is missing.
Lettering is such a part of who I am that I still letter at every opportunity. It is truly second nature to me. At an event when I am asked to fill out a ubiquitous nametag, I quickly and distinctively letter “LAURA.” People always say, “You must be an architect!” I just smile and say, “How did you know?”