Luniston Serif - by Nicole Magagnotti Panizza by Prof. Antonino Benincasa

Luniston Serif

Luniston Serif designed by Nicole Magagnotti Panizza

ABCD E

ABCD E FGHI ABCD E F G H I J K L M

ABCD E F G H I J K L M N O P ABCD E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T ABCD E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W ABCD E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

N U L

N O T IS

abcde

abcdefghi abcdefghijklm abcdefghijklmnop abcdefghijklmnopqrst abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvw abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz

UPPERCASE

RS Q R S T Q R P OP N O P Q R S S N O PQ R M M N KL K L M N O P Q Q R J I IJ KL M NO P H G GH IJ KL M NO PQ F O P E F H IJ KL M D N G E L O J BC C D E F G H H I J K L M N A B F D M I K A BC DE FG GH IJ KL MN A BC DE F GH IJ KL M A BC DE F GH IJ KL A BC DE F GH IJ KL A BC DE F GH IJ K A BC DE F GH IJ A BC DE F GH IJ A BC DE F GH A BC DE F GH A BC DE F G A BC DE F A BC DE F A BC DE A BC DE A BC A BC A B A A Z Z Y X YZ X Y Y Z W X W X V U VW U V W X Y T S TU S T U V W X R Q RS R S T U V W P V Q T O N OPQ O P Q R R S T U V W LM N N O P Q R S T U V K M M P U IJ KL K L M N N O P Q R S T U GH HIJ I J K L M N O P Q R S S T F E G H IJ KL M NO PQ R ST D F G Q L O J BC CDE E F G H H I J K L M N O P Q R A B F R M D P I K A BC DE FG GH IJ KL MNNO PQ A BC DE F GH IJ KL M NO PQ A BC DE F GH IJ KL M NO P A BC DE F GH IJ KL M NO A BC DE F GH IJ KL M NO A BC DE F GH IJ KL M N L M C DE F H J A

ABCDE FGHIJK LMNOP QRSTU VWXYZ

X Y A B U V U V D EF GH IJ K LM N OP QR S Z C W X Y A B U V D EF GH IJ K LM N OP QR ST U V T U W X YZ A BC D F GH IJ K P QR ST U M N E V L O T Z C J T S T U V WW X Y Z A B C D E F G H H I J K L M N O P Q R R S T R S F X A B P M N U D I K S R ST UV W XYYZ A BC DE FG GH IJ KL M NO PQ R S Q R Z A C DE F T UV W X H IJ KL M NO PQ R S B Y G Q PQ QR ST UVVW X YZ A BC DE EF GH IJ KL M NO P QR L M O P Z A C J T H W X R F P O PQ RS TU UV W XY Z AB CD DE FG HI IJK L MN O PQ O PQ RS T UV W XY Z AB C DE FG H IJK L MN O P N O N O S B C Y Z G Q E V JK L N OP QR ST TU VW X Y ZA B CD EF GH HI JK LM N O A B M N P QR S U VW X Y D EF G I K LM N O Z C J T H W R F X A M P U V D E I K LM N O S B Y G Q L K LM N OP QR ST U VW X YZ A BC D EF GH IJ K LM M N P QR ST U VW X YZ A BC D EF GH IJ K M K L L O J K Z C J T H W R X Y A B M N P Q U V D EF G I K S IJ KL LM NO OP QR ST U VW X YZ A BC D EF GH IJ K IJ K LM N OP QR ST U VW X YZ A BC D EF GH IJ H IJ K M N P QR ST U VW X YZ A BC D EF GH IJ L O J Z A H I C D T U H I W X R F M N P K FG GH IJ KL M NO PQ RS ST UV W XYYZ AB BC DE FG H O PQ R Z A H IJ KL M C DE FG T UV W X F N S B G Y Z E F G Q E V W L O H J C T E FG HI JK LM N OP QR RS TU V WX Y ZA B CD EF D E S TU V WX Y ZA B CD EF G HI JK LM N OP Q F R D X A M C DE FG HI IJK L MN OP PQ RS TU V W XY Z AB CD E U V D K L N S B G Y E Q C B CD EF GH IJ JK LM NO OP QR ST U VW X YZ A BC D A B D EF GH I K LM N OP QR ST U VW X YZ A BC C J Z H C T A W F Z AB CD E FG HI JK LM N OP QR RS TU V WX Y ZA B Z AB CD E FG HI JK LM N OP Q RS TU V WX Y ZA Y Z B CD E S TU V WX Y ZA G HI JK LM N OP Q A F R D X M P Y I U B X YZ A BC DE FG H IJK KL MN O PQ RS T UV W XY Z X YZ A BC DE FG H IJ KL MN O PQ RS T UV W XY V W XY W X YZ A L MN O PQ RS T C DE FG H IJ U B K N S G E Z Q V W L C O J V WX XY ZA B CD EF GH HI JK LM N OP QR ST TU VW X V W XY ZA B CD EF G HI JK LM N OP QR S TU VW A B U V W F R D M N P Y I U K U VW X YZ A BC DE FG GH IJ KL M NO PQ RS ST UV T U W X YZ A C DE F O PQ R H IJ KL M T UV B V N S G E Z T U Q W L C O J S T V WX XY ZA B CD EF GH HI JK LM N OP QR ST TU A U F R D S M P R ST UV W XYYZ AB BC DE FG HI IJK L MN O PQ RS T R ST UV W X YZ A BC DE FG H IJK L MN O PQ RS K PQ QR ST UVVW X YZ A BC DE FG H IJ KL MN O PQ RS N O G H J E Z T Q W X L C R P O PQ RS TU UV W XY ZAAB CD EF FG HI JK LM N OP QR D E S M N P Y Z I B K Q V G O N OP QR ST TU VW X Y ZA BC D EF GH IJ KL M NO P W X L C R O H J P

lowercase

abcdef ghijklm nopqrst uvwxyz

CHARACTERISTICS

Open aperture: moderate

Combination between Serif and Sans Serif Ascender: medium

Slanted serifs

x-height: medium

baseline base of serif: Moderate contrast Tapered terminals straight Positive diagonal stress: Unbracketed serif moderate

Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine. And you really will have to make t through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh ike a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about. Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine. And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right nside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine. And you eally will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: t will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about. Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to t, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine. And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked n. That’s what this storm’s all about. Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm sn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give n to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to magine. And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine. And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood n your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about. Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine. And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about. Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine. And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine. And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about. Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step.

22 pt

KAFKA ON THE SHORE

15 pt

Haruki Murakami

11/13,5 pt

7/10 pt

“Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back. That’s part of what it means to be alive. But inside our heads, at least that’s where I imagine it, there’s a little room where we store those memories. A room like the stacks in this library. And to understand the workings of our own heart we have to keep on making new reference cards. We have to dust things off every once in awhile, let in fresh air, change the water in the flower vases. In other words, you’ll live forever in your own private library.”

“Adults constantly raise the bar on smart children, precisely because they’re able to handle it. The children get overwhelmed by the tasks in front of them and gradually lose the sort of openness and sense of accomplishment they innately have. When they’re treated like that, children start to crawl inside a shell and keep everything inside. It takes a lot of time and effort to get them to open up again. Kids’ hearts are malleable, but once they gel it’s hard to get them back the way they were.”

NUMERALS

12 3 4 5 6 7 8 90 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0

CHICAGO

PHILADELPHIA

LONDON

SEATTLE MUNICH ROME

SAN DIEGO

MEMPHIS

ISTANBUL

SAINT PETERSBURG

PHOENIX

SEVILLE MIAMI

AMSTERDAM

HAMBURG DETROIT

OTTAWA

ATHENS

SIDNEY ATLANTA

PARIS HOUSTON

MILAN COPENHAGEN MOSCOW

LISBOA

DALLAS

BUENOS AIRES

DUBLIN

SINGAPORE TOKYO

LYON NEW ORLEANS

SAN FRANCISCO

HONG KONG

MARRAKECH

STOCKHOLM

WASHINGTON OSLO

CANBERRA BILBAO LOS ANGELES CAIRO

MADRID

BORDEAUX

LAS VEGAS

PRAGUE

NEW YORK CITY

SOFIA

BUDAPEST

BANGKOK

TORONTO

SANTIAGO

37° 46’ 26.299’’ N

SAN FRANCISCO CALIFORNIA

122° 25’ 52.669’’ W

14 pt

Technology can be our best friend, and technology can also be the biggest party pooper of our lives. It interrupts our own story, interrupts our ability to have a thought or a daydream, to imagine something wonderful, because we’re too busy bridging the walk from the cafeteria back to the office on the cell phone.

10 pt

8 pt

aesthetic beyond calligraphy divergent empathy fondness ginger heritage identity

jeopardize kindness lemongrass motion neutral opaque pattern quiet regret

sapphire typeface undertake voyage wanderlust xenophile yellow zealous

“

CREATIVITY BREAKING OUT

patterns in order to

That meens, seen and

LOOK

of established

at things in a

SEEING

“

what everybody else has

NO ONE ELSE

has thought.

50 pt - 40 pt - 30 pt - 25 pt - 12 pt - 350 pt

I AM VERY

FONT

OF YOU, BECAUSE YOU ARE JUST MY TYPE .

Faculty of Design and Art Free University of Bolzano - Bozen Typeface designed by Nicole Magagnotti Panizza WUP 18/19 Prof. Antonino Benincasa Gian Marco Favretto Maximilian Boiger Calligraphy Workshop by Mag. Art. Eva Pรถll Font created with Illustrator & Fontself