Design Is Nothing Without Words
I didn’t set out to be a storyteller, but the evidence keeps piling up. Teenage diaries, a self-published magazine in college, ten years alongside some of the best journalists and editors of my generation. It all follows you quietly until it clicks.
August 2017. Type@Cooper graduation was around the corner, and while prepping to present my first original typeface, I realized I’d be the only Brazilian in the room. The pressure was on. I didn’t know what was relevant, what would resonate... So the argument is: those letterforms only exist because I was shaped by Rio’s duality—its geography, architecture, and incubator of art movements. Because I was raised on Lygia Clark and Amilcar de Castro’s revolutionary sculptures. Because Roberto Burle Marx and Athos Bulcão patterns live rent-free in my subconscious.
The cursor blinks. How do I make them see this is my methodology?
That evening, I stumbled onto an important principle: type is about shaping language into something people can see and feel, and the words we choose should carry the same intention as every curve we draw.
In retrospect, diving from editorial into type design seems inevitable. What I did not realize was how the exercise of translating narrative into compelling visuals, and vice versa, would turn into a secret weapon. Writing has since proven crucial as it sharpens clarity, authorship, and resonance. Easy? Never.
Every time I start drafting an essay, it’s painful. Days spent getting a skeleton right, researching, wondering if I’m being coherent, obsessing over the right terms. What feels obvious in your head often collapses when you try to phrase it—especially when juggling two languages. It’s like pulling decisions into the open, processing, and codifying so they can be rationalized. You dump ideas on paper, revise, trim the excess, until rhythm holds; and what begins as intuition becomes knowledge. Not such a different craft, right? The first draft is rarely right, but iteration trains the eye as much as the brain.
Yet creatives tend to obsess over colors, shapes, grids… forgetting that connection is essential. We have normalized empty discourse, piling technical verbiage and random adjectives. Worse, as Stephen Coles noted, “There’s a tendency for some one-person foundries to remove the human from their communications and use a lot of generic ‘we’ or brand language to sound as if they are bigger.” But I can guarantee: being your authentic self pays more dividends. Especially in this new AI era, people will crave what’s real—the sarcasm, the improbable references. Something a robot or big brand cannot be is you, and that’s powerful.
Writing isn’t just content; it’s hierarchy, tone, cadence. It builds voice. Demands a point of view. Even the most utilitarian or minimal typefaces don’t exist in a vacuum—context bridges form to history, places, and communities. Here, the stakes are personal for us outside traditional centers of power. Writing is the only way to cut through: this is who we are, this is our legacy, this is how we reshape the canon. Without this perspective, the work gets judged through someone else’s lens, and a key piece of the puzzle goes missing. Aesthetics may be subjective, but articulating the concept in your own words brings autonomy. I can explain and ground it myself, no middleman.
The results speak volumes. Lygia (and its Sans counterpart) didn’t just land as a high-quality text face; it found its way to the MET’s newly inaugurated Michael C. Rockefeller Wing, in the ancient Americas’ walls—New York friends, please go visit and send me pictures. Used for the latest Hélio Oiticica exhibition and accompanying book—a true full cycle moment. Not to mention the press and awards. I dare to say, a lot of it’s because the framing gives people a reason to care. And I’m not the only one.
Trés Seals at Vocal Type is superb at creating typefaces deeply informed by archival research and activism, honoring voices long pushed to the margins. As for a peek behind the scenes, DJR’s Font of the Month Club notes are quite inspiring. I’m constantly in awe of how he can render complex decisions with transparency and candor. Now, for critiquing and industry commentary, I’m a huge fan of Elizabeth Goodspeed—one of the most thoughtful and articulate designers, challenging the norm with surgical precision.
Different approaches, same discipline. But the nuts and bolts of how to make a sentence, how to communicate with impact, are not easy (and we aren’t taught much). It requires consistent effort. Keep the logs, practice, explore different angles, see what sticks. Showing up regularly is the only way to get better—each attempt, however imperfect, becomes an invitation into your logic.
Words are the magnet that draws people in. The hinge between the work and who is behind it. And if we want projects that carry weight, they must begin with meaning. The question isn’t whether you can write, it’s whether you can afford not to. I still hesitate, sometimes. But I’ve learned that if I don’t tell my story, someone else will.
Marginalia
🔤 Font:
BM Bless by Cecilia Del Castillo & Felix Bamforth (Beam Type): A radical reinterpretation of 19th-century lettering that pushes the boundaries between nostalgia and tech innovation with a variable system of nine ornaments plus a stretch axis, transforming floral elegance into maximalist expression.
💬 Quote:
“The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.”
— Alice Walker
🔖 Bookmarked:
How Writing Leads to Thinking (and Not the Other Way Around) by Lynn Hunt: Reason over perfection, revision over waiting for inspiration. A historian’s reminder that writing crystallizes half-formed thoughts—not at once, but in time.
🧑🎨 From the Field:
Words of Type: Founded by Lisa Huang, this multilingual encyclopedia and education platform brings together experts from around the world to expand typographic knowledge and practice across language and scripts.
📡 Elsewhere:
A Joan Didion–inspired ritual: She famously poured a drink at dusk to shift from writing into editing. In that spirit, here’s my current go-to—the Paper Plane: equal parts bourbon, Aperol, Amaro Nonino, and lemon, shaken hard over ice.