MARTIN GRASSER: A TEMPORARY ARRANGEMENT OF MATERIALS
Part of a series of articles & interviews released digitally that were first published in the print edition of the Bright Moments Quarterly that was distributed at Bright Moments Paris in Paris, France in February, 2024.
Bright Moments: Thanks for taking the time to do this interview, Martin! To start, could you tell us more about your background in design as well as your passion for typography?
Martin Grasser: My journey into design was quite unconventional. I went to art school to study illustration, and before I left for art school, I had a baby.
Before attending art school, I met with someone who ran a design agency and sought his advice on ensuring that I would make money from my work. So I guess that's a little bit out of order. When I went to art school I had a baby. I had a three month year old child. He advised me to study typography, noting that while not every company needs a drawing, every company uses words and letters. That advice struck a chord with me. During my first term, I audited a typography class — I think it was called Type 1. That's where my love for typography really ignited. I was fascinated by the realization that people are actively creating fonts, influencing what we read and how we perceive text on a day-to-day basis. The idea that type is both an art form and a functional tool appealed to me immensely. I was captivated by how you can use type to form words and sentences, and by how your art can evolve depending on its application.
From that point, my deep dive into the world of type had begun and I was off to the races. I took another term or two of drawing classes, but after that everything I studied was centered around type — type design, setting type, and how type is used in systems, which today we recognize as elements of corporate identity.
Typography offered me a broader scope for experimentation than single drawings. After graduating, I started working the field immediately and realized I had a knack for it. We all gravitate towards things we excel at, and this just clicked for me. Seeing its application in the real world was exhilarating. I knew I had found my niche — receiving positive feedback, feeling a sense of belonging in this community. It wasn’t just about making money; I genuinely loved it, and that drove me forward.
Did you start with static fonts, or did you delve into web implementation early on? How did you transition towards coding, and what was this mid-journey like for you?
That's a great question. My beginnings were definitely with static work. I started by drawing classic fonts like Garamond, Helvetica, and Bodoni. Working with these classics is where you learn the fundamentals – understanding contrast, manipulating weight on a two-dimensional plane, and structurally considering letters as miniature architectural forms.
My deep dive into typography coincided with an interesting period in web design, around 2007 or 2008. This was when I began to appreciate the burgeoning interplay between typography and digital properties. Fascinating developments were happening, not just in the realm of internet and drawing, but in how typography functioned on the web, how it shaped web experiences, created corporate identities, and appeared in printed materials like business cards, letterheads, and signage. This was also the time when these elements started integrating into digital properties, and it was quite exciting. I can think of some designers who were making websites with basic typography used in inventive ways, utilizing grids and CSS properties creatively. It was a period of experimentation, marking the beginnings of typography's digital evolution.
Variable fonts emerged a few years later, around 2015. This development wasn't vastly different from what we were exploring in projects like Vera Molnar's Themes and Variations, where we used sliders to adjust nodes and weight, playing with proportion. There's a strong connection between these methods, but my background was firmly rooted in static typography.
The transition period was fascinating – it was like witnessing the birth of digital-first typography, as opposed to adapting print typefaces for digital use. For example, Arial, digitized in the 1970s, is different from starting with a digital-first approach, like with Neuehaus Grotesque, the original Helvetica, digitized in 2011. This shift to a digital-first approach represented a significant change in the field of typography, offering a vast landscape of learning and discovery in the space.
How did you transition from focusing on typography to delving into generative art? What was the driving force behind this shift?
I have always been interested in systems, and the alphabet is a giant system. Not to get too esoteric here, but paragraphs are generative art. Somebody typing extemporaneously is generative art. The page size becomes the canvas, and the chosen font and formatting are the rules. Then, as you type, you're essentially creating art. This realization resonated with me during my time studying Fine Art.
I was taking fine art classes, but I was always approaching them through my love of typography. I love the alphabet and I love language. My best friend in college was from Seoul, and together, we explored projects that merged English and Korean. The interaction and contrasts between these two languages fascinated me, especially when considering aspects like efficiency and word length. For example, Korean tends to be more efficient than English in certain ways.
The differences between letters – a concept highlighted by Ferdinand de Saussure in structuralism – are what make them recognizable and usable. This idea applies not only to legibility but also to the philosophy of language. Recognizing these differences opened up new avenues for me in translation, form, and even the relationship between the shape of a word and its meaning.
I found myself at a crossroads where I had the expertise and craft to make meaningful work, yet there was so much more to explore. The idea of using text and language as an artistic medium was compelling. I didn't want to make a painting or drawing. My ability to abstract language, grounded in a solid understanding of its structure, allowed me to venture into generative art.
Considering what you've just shared about your artistic approach, was Themes and Variations with Vera Molnar the first time you were able to integrate your passion for typography with generative art?
Actually, I would say that all of my projects are type-based. Take Squares, for instance; it's essentially set up as a monospace typeface. It's built on a grid and a fixed canvas, akin to the constraints of monospace typography. The process involves creating forms and black shapes on a white background, which is how the stair-step shapes in Squares are formed. I use techniques like blending light and color to create intersections, overlaps, and moving color within the piece.
I also created the Color Dot Font which I used to typeset an entire section of the New York Times, transforming standard text into an array of colorful dots. This approach of starting with typography or language has been a consistent theme in my work. One of my earliest experiments involved photocopying a one-inch square on a photocopier, exploring the idea of language in its most elemental form.
Typography is full of limitations and rules – for instance, deciding that every letter should be 500 pixels high, except for ascenders, or setting a uniform width for the stems of each letter. These constraints form the starting point from which the rest of the project evolves. Whether it’s working with a photocopier, creating Squares, or collaborating on Vera's project, the foundational principles of typography and recognizability are always present. From this base, I then venture into abstraction, expanding and detaching from the original concept while maintaining its core DNA.
Working with Vera felt like a culmination of my career. I felt uniquely qualified to contribute to this vision, having spent the last 15 years navigating the intersection of typography and abstraction.
Your work is fascinating, and it's great to learn about the role of typography in all your projects. Shifting gears a bit, can you tell us about what you're currently working on for Bright Moments Paris?
After my project with Vera, where there was a sense of chaos, I felt a new kind of freedom. My previous works like Squares and LOVE were very structured. Vera often spoke about the 2% of chaos or randomness in generative art. I’ve seen this idea expressed by many generative artists in various ways. There’s something quite freeing about this sense of randomness and disorder, and it has influenced my approach to this current project.
I have a stack of papers which I spray painted from 2010 to 2013. I began spray painting papers at this time as a simple way to create art. These pieces were effortless and joyful to make, just spray-painting paper, but they have a certain quality and texture that's always resonated with me. There’s a sense of immediacy in creating art like this which reminded me of French New Wave films I learned about in art school. I liked the immediacy and casualness in this style, where not everything is meticulously planned, capturing the essence of a scene spontaneously.
My grandmother used to have us pass the time with a game called ‘52 card pickup.’ She would throw the cards down, they would fall randomly, and we would have to pick them up from wherever they landed. So, with this project, I'm experimenting with these pieces of spray-painted paper, laying them out in a way that's reminiscent of playing '52 card pickup' – wherever they land, they land. This method embraces the quick, unlabored creation of art, finding beauty in imperfection and spontaneity. We're exploring different compositions with 500 to1000 of these papers, whether they're touching, overlapping, folded, or torn, and working with various intensities of spray paint.
From a coding perspective, I see this project as a dialogue between the analog and the digital realms. It’s not about creating a singular image but rather an aggregation of images. This approach takes the focus away from the notion of one definitive piece. Instead, it encourages ongoing discourse. I’m intrigued by the idea of representing the analog piece and the space between it and its digital counterpart. This raises thought-provoking questions: Which piece truly represents the art? Is it the painting, the copy, or something else entirely? In my view, they all hold equal value. The art lies not just in the code, the concept, or the description, but in every aspect of the creation – the analog, the digital, and the interplay between them. This, to me, sparks a far more fascinating and complex conversation.
Besides the conceptual inspiration from France and the Nouvelle Vague, did you have other influences when you first started spray painting these pieces? What initially drove you to experiment with spray paint, and how did this process evolve into the work you’re doing now?
Yes, the inspiration for spray painting these pieces was rooted in a sense of freedom. It all started in 2007 when I was working on a unique book project. This wasn’t a typical book; it was an evolving piece of art. Users interacted with an animation on a screen and each time they took a picture, that image was saved into a memory bank for other users to see, and it also became part of that customized book. The project involved flat vector imagery, and I faced the challenge of translating this digital work into an analog format.
Initially, I tried laser and inkjet prints, but they didn’t capture what I was looking for. So, I turned to spray painting paper as a means to replicate a simple, flat page of digital orange color. The imperfections and unevenness of the spray paint appealed to me, adding a romantic, tactile quality.
Looking back, I realize these pieces had digital origins. Now, the process has reversed: I’m starting with the spray-painted pieces and translating them back into a digital form, incorporating digital noise and imperfections. While this digital translation introduces programmatic and procedural elements, it’s not entirely about perfection. It’s more about the ongoing dialogue between the digital and analog realms, exploring the nuances of moving between these two spaces and the transformations that occur in this process of translation.
I just have a final set of quick and easy questions. If you were a computer artist from the ‘60s or ‘70s, who would you be? Is there one person you would like to be compared to?
I think it would have to be Vera Molnar. It would undoubtedly be Vera Molnar. She once mentioned, ‘letters are my big theme,’ and that resonates deeply with me. I believe our shared passion for exploring the artistic abstraction of letters would have made us great contemporaries. We seem to have a similar fascination and a parallel space in our minds for this subject
If you could be a contemporary artist from any period or medium, who would you be?
Without a doubt, Andy Warhol. To me, he's King Kong of all of them. He’s always been my favorite.
And if you were a type font, which one would you be?
Arial for sure. It’s my favorite typeface of all time. Beautiful if you know how to use it, and the perfume of my childhood. It's on every piece of signage and document ever. It’s the most prolific font of all time, yet it remains unheralded and unrecognized. But for those who really understand its aesthetics, it’s really beautiful.
