James Reynolds is wheatpasting images of doors and windows on the boarded-up versions of the real thing. Visual optimism or a comment on slap-dash responses to a crumbling economy? Either way, I hug.

Since 2005 Nicholas Felton has designed and published an Annual Report about his year.

The Feltron Annual Reports present meticulously collected data in playful infographics and crisp typography. It is a carefully placed window into Felton’s life.

At least once a semester, I bring my collection of reports into class to introduce the idea of curating the viewer’s expereince. The elegant color choices, the unusual bindings — even the mailing envelopes — all make the printed piece a delicious graphic treat. They are an exciting reminder of how personal work and professional practice can merge, and that even the infographic can be a playground for self expression.

Mr. Felton was kind enough to chat with Graphic Hug about his latest report, and its interactive progeny, Daytum — a website where anyone can “collect, categorize and communicate everyday data.”

GH: I imagine that the Feltron Annual Report was a self-initiated project. What inspired you to make the first version in 2005? (Were there precursors in other forms?)

NF: There were a couple of seeds for the 2005 report. Under the natural inclination at the end of 2004, I made a piece of design I called BEST OF FOUR that summarized my favorite things from the previous year, like my favorite new album and art exhibit and blog. I also sprinkled in a few factoids about the year, like the number of air miles traveled and the most-played song in iTunes. The tidbits that I excavated from the year, definitely influenced the creation of the first ANNUAL REPORT. In a larger sense, I had been searching for a means of content creation to feed personal design projects, and this all came together nicely,

GH: Who did you consider your audience? Has that changed?

NF: When I began the project, I assumed that only friends and family would have any interest in a personal Annual Report of Nicholas Felton. I was pretty startled by the speed with which it spread through the design community, and things got really bizarre when I started receiving emails from bankers who thought it was both fascinating and hilarious. I think my audience continues to be design-centric, but it has certainly been expanding, and awareness of the project continues to grow into corners of the Internet and the world that still amaze me.

GH: How else the project evolved since its conception?

NF: The report has definitely evolved in numerous ways. Primarily, it takes more time to create each year. It’s grown in scale and complexity. The 2008 report began taking a more concept-oriented turn, in that I was interested in learning how many miles I traveled (38,524). I’ve also moved away from the photographic approach of the 2005 report, and not only brought them into print, but discovered that I can recoup my production and shipping costs by selling the printed reports.

GH: How do you decide what information to collect? Do you use Daytum to collect your own data?

NF: I am using Daytum this year for tracking a lot of personal information — but I am experimenting with a different means of collecting this year’s data set that will be revealed with the release of the report.

GH: Interesting! We’ll look forward to seeing how that influences the next report. I think we’ve all been through something that makes us think “well, at least this will make a good story.” Since starting the annual reports, do you experience events with a new lens?

NF: Definitely. When the Secret Service visited the office last year, my first reaction was — this is going in the Annual Report.

GH clarification question: Are you at liberty to divulge why the secret service visited your office?

NF: Yes, nothing too scandalous. I believe that they were looking for a check scammer who had used our office address for some forged documents.

GH: Have you had any revelations about your habits since starting the project?

NF: I haven’t experienced any revelations, but there are some interesting trends. I find that I am drinking less each year, and my musical taste is becoming less adventurous (I know what I like now, and I’m sticking with it). It’s safe to say I’m getting older.

GH: I have to ask: do you ever fudge the numbers?

NF: I don’t fudge the numbers because I have an honest curiosity about the results. If I have to over-estimate a figure, then it’s inaccuracy will bother me and I won’t want to publish it. So I only present information with information that is as accurate as possible.

GH: You also have a rich body of professional work. What kind of interplay do you find between your personal and professional projects?

NF: This has been the greatest fallout from the Annual Report projects. The work that I like to do personally has drawn similar professional projects, and now the two live in symbiosis. The professional challenges help drive me to think about new visualizations and approaches, while the Annual Reports allow me to push the envelope stylistically without the constraints of a client’s opinion. It’s a really great balance.

The Feltron Annual Reports can be purchased from the Feltron Eight web site.

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I have serious design lust for these silk screened posters from Bold and Noble’s shop on Etsy. I especially love the birds perched on the writing lines.

I went to the SoWa Antiques Market in Boston this weekend. I spent half an hour flipping through vintage luggage tags before buying a handful. (You can see the rest of them here.) Mmmm. Saturated eye candy.

When I visited my parents for Thanksgiving the year before last, we took a trip to the freshly minted Museum of Contemporary Art (or MCA Denver). The building is London-based architect David Adjaye’s first public commission. Its obsidian exterior is all angles and polished surfaces. Like if Darth Vader had a bachelor pad. I was delighted to see the much-anticipated building in person, but I was even more excited by its crisp and elegant gallery signage. (Oh and there was art, too…) The lettering is an inspired addition to the space. It reflects the form and spirit of the building, while remaining appropriately hushed. I recently tracked down the designer, Byron Nixon. Nixon said that first and foremost, the signs were designed to react to the carefully manipulated light within the building. He angled the lettering to echo the projecting third and fourth floors. Panel sizes were determined by the golden section (which Adjaye used in the museum’s structure). The typeface is Avenir 95, and the panels are fabricated from laser cut acrylic. Lovely.

PowerMeter is a Google prototype that gives households visualizations of their daily energy usage. Google estimates that the small changes that homeowners make when they can see and understand their consumption in real-time will save 5-15% on monthly bills, and significantly lower their carbon footprint. The sample graphs are to data as grey paint is to state-owned buildings. Nonetheless, the idea that presenting information in a more accessible way could effect significant change is thrilling. I dream of the day when we chart electricity use in old-style figures and optically letterspaced small caps. Until then, a round of hugs for a graphic design-based environmental initiative.

I’ve loved Maira Kalman’s work since I read her books in high school and still wanted to be a children’s book illustrator. (Her late, great husband, Tibor, changed my aspirations to graphic designer). These illustrations were created for the New York Times to document Obama’sinauguration. (See the full set here.) They are strange, sweet, idiosyncratic and poignant. A good way to start a Friday, I think.

Fraktur mon Amour is one of those finger-tingling books that you can’t wait to get your hands on. It has a pebbled black cover with embossed gothic type that manages to feel inexplicably airy and modern. The book’s heft and proportions seem modeled after a personal bible (but the King James doesn’t usually have hot pink edges). The design is both clean and opulent, reverent and cheeky. It’s clear that author Judith Schalansky hugs blackletter. If the definition of hug included sneaking into its house at night and smelling the clothes it’s just taken off. Maybe obsession is a better word. The book opens with a series of perfunctory letters of introduction (in which Schalansky sounds a wee bit defensive as she breaks down how neo-nazis are historically ignorant in their use of blackletter. That’s my biggest complaint about them too!) The letters are interspersed with a few pages showing photographs of blackletter in use (a Chiclets box, a Beyonce poster…) Then things get down to business. There are eight chapters, each of which is a rigorous catalog of one style of blackletter. For those of us who like to organize things (every graphic designer since the dawn of time?) this categorization is fascinating and delightfully in-depth. I’d never really noticed how rotunda might differ from schwabacher or textura. Within the chapters, each typeface gets its own spread. There’s a character set on the right, and some typographic shenanigans on the left — a lacy pattern of lower-case ds, an overlapping collage of glyphs, or a single enormous form, cropped to a full bleed. The variation creates dynamic pacing within a potentially suffocating system. The first publisher of Fraktur explained that one of Schalansky’s challenges was to “match the quality of the first few sample pages in the rest of the book.” This might be where she fell short. As a dense, 720 page mass, the compositions are irresistible. But when I started to look at each one individually, (how the glyphs align in a pattern, or the relationship of the page edge with the cropped form) the details aren’t always refined. In this way, Fraktur is really most successful as an object. Let there be no doubt that I still hug this book. But I think I’ll keep it in a healthy, platonic kind of way. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Oh and not to be the crazy cat lady, but I have to add that my cat yarfed directly on the cover. For those of you with infants or hangovers, it should be noted that Fraktur is also plesantly vomit-proof, and cleaned up real nice.

free catalog www.houseind.com –

sign up and get free catalogs as they come out www.typotheque.com –

mostly stock images, but some fun type gifties, too www.veer.com -

hit login to create a new account. once you’re on their mailing list the samples roll in www.fontshop.com -

free pdf downloads, or a $20 beautiful specimen book www.fontbureau.com – Inspired by yet another stunning mailer from Typotheque, I just gave my students a short list of type foundries that will send you pretty things in the mail. There’s something about a well-timed type sample that softens the blow of a Nelnet account statement. Any additions would be greatly appreciated.

Lately I’ve had a consuming obsession with ampersands. Seriously. What a foxy little glyph. I did an inventory of my typefaces to see what I had in stock. I was surprised by how many of my favorite typefaces have lackluster ampersands, and how many mediocre typefaces are hiding typographic gems.

The giddyup std ampersand is kicky and cute, and the American Typewriter ampersand is tattoo-worthy. (Would that be too much? Like getting a oar tattooed on your ankle because you rowed crew freshman year? Maybe. I’ll wait before I do anything permanent.) Perhaps most interesting is the typographic history that ampersands divulge. Italic type was developed independently from roman type, and only became a roman subsidiary in the mid-16th century. Italic types were based on 15th century Italian handwriting (hence the name?) and they look thoroughly calligraphic. This is especially evident in the italic ampersands in many old-style typefaces. It isn’t just a sloped roman, but a totally independent form—albeit one that looks like the calligrapher got into the Limoncello.

These ampersands also reflect the origin of the mark much more than their roman equivalents. The E and T (the Latin for “and”) are discernable, if convoluted. The experimentation and new printing methods that paved the way for transitional typefaces were incredibly well-suited to the ampersand. A prime example: Caslon 540, italic. Insane in the membrane. Also in the ball terminals.

There is such a variety of ampersand forms, and most of them fit into the general categories represented by the glyphs below.

The most confounding one I found was the ampersand in the scala family.

Is that an R? What’s happening there, Mr. Majoor? The cheese stands alone.