Alpha Omega Sans by Sara.Moscatelli

Alpha Omega Sans by Sara Moscatelli

unbracketed serif

ascender cap line mid line

base line

Wedn

discender

axis stress diffe rent from the o

Font anatomy of the source font

little stoke contrast

x-height

nsday straight cut

Joanna is a serif typeface designed by Eric Gill in the period 1930-31, and named after one of his daughters. Gill chose Joanna for setting An Essay on Typography, a book by Gill on his thoughts on typography, typesetting, and page design.

It is, as Gill himself described it, a book face free from all fancy business, with small, straight serifs and a spare elegance that makes it notably attractive and distinguished.

Uppercase letters

A B C D F G H I J L M N O Q R S T V W X Y

E K P U Z

Lowercase letters

a f l q v

b c d g h i j m n o r s t w x y

e k p u z

Numerals

0 1 23 456 789

Diacritics, punctuation, signs and symbols

üö àòèùä ! ? = +° _ :;,.”“ [ ] ( )\ /% & @ #* -

Evolution

skeleton of source font Joanna MT

OMEGA

applied brushes

Final letterform Alpha Omega sans

BRUSH USED: 0Â° angle, 100% roundness, 4 pt

Brushes

M a d ynMeae d e e n y

Font size in use

30pt

AMERICAN GODS

15pt/15pt

“All your questions can be answered, if that is what you want. But once you learn your answers, you can never unlearn them.”

13pt/13pt

“Mister Ibis?” “Good to see you,” said the creature, with Mr. Ibis’s voice. “Do you know what a psychopomp is?” Shadow thought he knew the word, but it had been a long time. He shook his head. “It’s a fancy term for an escort,” said Mr. Ibis. “We all have so many functions, so many ways of existing. In my own vision of myself, I am scholar who lives quietly, and pens his little tales, and dreams about a past that may or may not ever have existed. And that is true, as far as it goes. But I am also, in one of my capacities, like so many of the people you have chosen to associate with, a psychopomp. I escort the living to the world of the dead.” “I thought this was the world of the dead,” said Shadow. “No. Not per se. It’s more of a preliminary.” The boat slipped and slid across the mirrorsurface of the underground pool. And then Mr. Ibis said, without moving its beak, “You people talk about the living and the dead as if they were two mutually

exclusive categories. As if you cannot have a river that is also a road, ora song that is also a color.” “You can’t,” said Shadow. “Can you?” The echoes whispered his words back at him from across the pool. “What you have to remember,” said Mr. Ibis, testily, “is that life and death are different sides of the same coin. Like the heads and tails of a quarter.” “And if I had a double-headed quarter?” “You don’t.” Shadow had a frisson, then, as they crossed the dark water. He imagined he could see the faces of children staring up at him reproachfully from beneath the water’s glassy surface: their faces were waterlogged and softened, their blind eyes clouded. There was no wind in that underground cavern to disturb the black surface of the lake. “So I’m dead,” said Shadow. He was getting used to the idea. “Or I’m going to be dead.” “We are on our way to the Hall of the Dead. I requested that I be the one to come for you.” “Why?” “You were a hard worker. Why not?” “Because...”

11pt/12pt

I believe in a personal god who cares about me and worries and oversees everything I do. I believe in an impersonal god who set the universe in motion and went off to hang with her girlfriends and doesn‘t even know that I‘m alive. I believe in an empty and godless universe of causal chaos, background noise, and sheer blind luck. I believe that mankind‘s destiny lies in the stars. I believe that candy really did taste

better when I was a kid, that it‘s aerodynamically impossible for a bumble bee to fly, that light is a wave and a particle, that there‘s a cat in a box somewhere who‘s alive and dead at the same time (although if they don‘t ever open the box to feed it it‘ll eventually just be two different kinds of dead), and that there are stars in the universe billions of years older than the universe itself.

Shadow marshaled his thoughts. “Because I never believed in you. Because I don’t know much about Egyptian mythology. Because I didn’t expect this. What happened to Saint Peter and the Pearly Gates?” The longbeaked white head shook from side to side, gravely. “It doesn’t matter that you didn’t believe in us,” said Mr. Ibis. “We believed in you.” The boat touched bottom. Mr. Ibis stepped off the side, into the pool, and told Shadow to do the same. Mr. Ibis took a line from the prow of the boat, and passed Shadow the lantern to carry. It was in the shape of a crescent moon. They walked a shore, and Mr. Ibis tied the boat to a metal ring set in the rock floor. Then he took the lamp from Shadow and walked swiftly forward, holding the lamp high as he walked, throwing vast shadows across the rock floor and the high rock walls. “Are you scared?” asked Mr. Ibis. “Not really.”

“Well, try to cultivate the emotions of true awe and spiritual terror, as we walk. They are the appropriate feelings for the situation at hand.”

Typographic scale

Pack my box with five 48pt dozen liquor jugs. Pack my box with five dozen liquor jugs.

40pt