For Christmas, my father-in-law gave me this delightful little book, An Essay on Typography, written by Eric Gill. For you non-typophiles, he's the "Gill" in your "Gill Sans." Yep, that lovely slim-lined typeface that you pick when you want to look professional, or maybe Swedish. That's him.

The book starts out with a brief introduction about the history of Mr. Gill's "essay," his life, and his collaboration with other Famous Typographers. What struck me was his voluminous impact on the world of typography, his ability to collaborate with others, and the depth of his thoughts and convictions (as evidenced by the rest of the book).

Among his writing, I found these few gems:

...for nothing can stop small boys from selling one another marbles, and it is that personal dealing which is the root of all trading. Even the small craftsman, in spite of the impossibility of competition with 'big business' and mass-production, cannot be permanently put out of action, if only because the pen-knife is always with us and men will always want to make things to please themselves, tho' only in their spare time.

To be patient is to suffer. By their fruits men know one another, but by their sufferings they are what they are.

The artist makes no claim to serve his fellow men; neverthless he does so--when he is not wholly led astray by the notion that art is self-expression or the expression of emotion.

There are, then, two principles, as there are two worlds. There is the principle of the best possible quality, and the principle of the greatest possible profit. And there is every sort of compromise between the two.

His writing has a sense of urgency and cosmic importance that I find lacking in much of modern writing, but that I know is difficult to keep up on a regular basis. Mr. Gill was an idealist, as many people-full-of-impact are. What is fascinating about him--and what often leads me to find particular artists admirable--is that he remains devoted to his work while still managing to be accessible, articulate, and decent human beings. (See my previous letter to Jasper Johns.)

One of my recent modern-day experiences with admirable and friendly artists includes an e-mail exchange with modern-day typographer, illustrator, artist, and designer Marian Bantjes. I wrote to her one day after being struck by her incredibly amazing work in Print magazine.

I said,

I'm just SO curious, and envious, to be truthful. Your work is as gorgeous as it is intelligent, and I envy that you seem to be able to get paid to do all this gorgeous, intelligent work.

She said, among other things,

How did I get here? Well, perseverence, stupidity, perhaps, and using every available resource I have and hoping in the face of adversity that it would help... Also, just getting over some shyness and connecting with people: not to say, 'Do you have work for me,' but just to say, 'I like what you do,' and send them things I do as gifts. Being a designer, I have a lot in common with designers, and now that i work for/with designers, well ... it all just kindof worked out...

The most important decision I made was to work for love instead of money. That sounds corny, but I was so used to getting all upset over how long things were taking me, what or whether i was getting paid, it @#$%^& up the work as well. As soon as I started just really pouring myself into the work and getting it out there, I think that really came through. The important thing was to just be really happy with the work. And I work all the time. Even when I have no paying work I still make things, find a way to get them printed, and then send them out. I often get paid later when someone says, 'I'd like something like that piece you did...'

I admire her gusto, perseverance, and faith in the quality of her own work. If I could choose to be anybody when I grow up, it would probably be her.