Yowza

Before drawing the first letters of Yowza, what were you looking for? Was there a particular typographic problem you wanted to explore, or did the project emerge more freely from visual research and experimentation?

It actually started with a branding project I was working on for a handmade jewellery shop that needed custom headline typography. While developing the brand's identity, I sketched the initial forms of what would become Yowza Soft Regular. We needed a strong, bold presence in the project, but with rounded inner corners. The client, who had extensive experience in the jewellery industry, pointed out that the letterforms shouldn't be too sharp—they needed to feel like jewellery close to the skin: soft, tactile, and elegant.

You describe Yowza as a personal interpretation of Art Deco elegance. What did that reference mean to you at the beginning of the project? Were you looking at specific typefaces, lettering, architecture or graphic material from the 1920s and 1930s, or was it more about capturing a certain atmosphere?

It was definitely more about capturing an atmosphere. Of course, I researched existing typefaces from that period, but for my specific vision, they were either too decorative or not decorative enough. I was looking for maximum structural simplicity paired with subtle details that evoke elegance. What stands out most is the overall rhythm created by the interplay of strict horizontals, verticals, and rounded curves.

Yowza seems to combine two somewhat contradictory tendencies: a rigorous geometric construction and a number of highly distinctive details. High crossbars, narrow capitals, much wider circular forms, or characters such as the rounded uppercase A give the typeface a very particular rhythm and personality. How did this formal vocabulary emerge? Were there specific glyphs that helped you understand what Yowza was going to become?

I think N, A, O, and S were the primary anchors of the concept. While designing, I constantly considered more conventional shapes for those four glyphs, but the final execution stayed true to the spirit of those very first sketches. I wanted to maintain a strong vertical rhythm as much as possible—achieved through the rounded uppercase A and the high crossbar in N. The O introduced a touch of dynamic contrast and decorativeness, while the squeezed S helped preserve the tight vertical cadence. Narrow capitals like that naturally bring a lot of elegance to typography. Ultimately, my guiding compass throughout the process was tight vertical rhythm combined with elegance.

What did the first coherent version of Yowza look like? Was it already close to what became Display or Standard? And from that initial design, could you retrace the sequence in which the different branches of the family emerged?

In terms of structure, the very first version of Yowza was surprisingly close to the final result. My core 'master' was the Display style. Most of my time early on was actually spent deliberating on which variations of characters like A, G, or M should serve as the default options, and developing the alternate stylistic sets from there.

When did you realise that Yowza could become a system rather than a single family? Were Soft and Mix conceived as responses to specific needs, or did they emerge through experiments with the original forms — rounding them, altering joins, exaggerating certain details — that gradually suggested entirely new directions?

Whenever I start working on a display typeface, I naturally begin thinking about creating an accompanying text version so that designers have a complete, versatile system to work with. So the Text sub-family was a given for me, but Mix was both a challenge and a playground. I wanted to create something akin to a "display version of Display." As you mentioned, it grew directly out of playful, hands-on experimentation with the core shapes—rounding an edge here, shifting path nodes there, and seeing how far I could push the forms.

What is striking is that these transformations can change the perceived personality — and even the apparent historical period — of essentially related letterforms. The initial geometry can evoke interwar geometric sans-serifs and Art Deco lettering, while Mix feels distinctly more contemporary. Were you conscious of these shifts in cultural and historical associations while developing the different families?

Yes, absolutely. I think that kind of dialogue with history is what drives me in type design. We are all trying to retell classic stories in a modern voice—in many ways, that’s what culture as a whole is about.

Mix is particularly intriguing in this respect. Some of its joins almost look like reverse ink traps, as though material or ink had accumulated rather than been removed — an effect that becomes increasingly pronounced in the heavier weights. Where did these forms come from? Were you looking at particular precedents in experimental or postmodern type design, or did they emerge directly from the development of Yowza itself?

It felt like a very natural progression while drawing, but it certainly stems from absorbing and analyzing the work of other designers—a clear influence in that realm would be something like Bonto, with its dense, accumulated dark areas. Incorporating that isn't revolutionary on its own, but I don't believe type design is always about groundbreaking revolutions or discovering entirely unseen concepts. It’s often about finding fresh compositions using existing visual languages. To me, it's very much like music: rather than inventing entirely new sounds, it's about arranging familiar notes in a way that feels fresh today.

The Text family seems to mark another stage in the project, because the problem becomes less about stylistic transformation and more about optical and functional refinement. You have described this part of the process as particularly demanding: what specifically had to be reconsidered when adapting Yowza for sustained reading and smaller sizes?

It was real manual labor—like digging ditches! You need a completely different typographic texture and shade of gray when setting body text. In my approach, text faces work best when the overall color is slightly lightened. Yowza Display has a very large x-height, which is problematic for small text because it leaves too little room for diacritics. We added functional ink traps to clear ink buildup in inner joins, which gives the text layout a lighter, un-cluttered feel. Naturally, default tracking had to be widened, while kerning needed to be far less aggressive. I also widened individual characters to make them more uniform in proportion, as drastic jumps between a narrow 'n' and a wide 'o' disrupt continuous reading. It's a lot of meticulous work that isn't necessarily flashy, so you need plenty of internal motivation to push through it!

Some of Yowza's most distinctive glyphs are also available in more conventional alternate forms. The rounded uppercase A, for example, strongly contributes to the personality of the typeface, yet a more conventional pointed A is also available. As a type designer, how do you decide whether to defend such a distinctive form or give the user the possibility of neutralising it?

I love stylistic sets because they empower graphic designers with choice and broaden the typeface's range of utility. The default set represents my core artistic vision, while the alternates serve as a safety net—making the typeface functional in contexts or layouts I might not have anticipated during initial drawing.

More broadly, where do you place the balance between authorship and toolmaking? Is a typeface a design whose personality should, to some extent, be imposed on its users, or a system that should allow graphic designers to reshape, soften or even partially contradict the type designer's original intentions?

I see a typeface as a living system: once released into the world, it takes on a life of its own. I actually really enjoy seeing designers tweak or modify the shapes for specific applications. Sometimes a design layout genuinely demands that kind of adaptation. Of course, it comes down to the skill and sensitivity of the designer—they can either destroy the original logic behind the face or thoughtfully adapt it for a new purpose. When executed well, I deeply appreciate it.

With seven families, 84 styles and numerous alternates, how did you know when the system was complete? Were there experiments, variants or directions that you deliberately abandoned because they pushed Yowza too far — and what, ultimately, cannot be changed without Yowza ceasing to be Yowza?

To be honest, I initially considered two additional sub-families, but realized the visual differences would be too subtle, and offering too many retail options can become overwhelming for buyers. I don't follow any strict rules regarding how many styles a superfamily should contain. While I enjoy building broad systems, knowing when to stop is ultimately a gut feeling rather than a purely rational decision.

Looking back at Yowza now, what surprises you most about the distance between your initial intentions and the final system? And does the project feel complete to you, or can you already imagine directions in which Yowza could continue to evolve?

I'm actually already working on a flared version of Yowza! There are always new avenues to explore, but the question is always whether I find a particular direction genuinely exciting. I’m very intrigued by the flared concept—though it likely won't include text styles, as I don't feel they're necessary for that iteration. I’ve also briefly pondered how this underlying structural logic would interact with triangular serifs, but sketching that out is still a bit further down the road.