Back to Blackletter
Track 18 // Vol. 05: Type Justified
Before we begin, let’s get one thing sorted: typeface vs. font. All-caps energy only!
Typography consists of a whole set of terminology, with most words originating from the printing press. Without that context, it’s not that intuitive. For example, “leading” refers to the vertical space between the baselines of text, measured in points. The term literally comes from the strip of lead typesetters would place by hand between the lines of moveable type pieces. It’s one of the many things that I enjoy about typography—there’s a direct line to the history of the process, always winking to the past.
It’s fascinating to me how traditional terminology stays consistent across new technologies over time and how certain typefaces manage to endure over centuries, reimagined in new contexts, readapted for digital realms. One such style of typeface, with a rich yet complicated history is blackletter, often referred to as Gothic, Medieval, Old Style, or Grotesque, even though there are differences in meaning across these labels.
Last week I wrote about the typography examples I collected on my trip to Berlin. (You say hoarder, I say archivist!) In truth, I save a lot of print materials from traveling and visiting museums so I can revisit them when I need a creative spark. I admit some sentimental attachment here, a quick dip for some inspiration easily turns into a deep dive into nostalgia, but I find the emotional aspect churns ideas as well.
On a trip to Vienna a few years ago, I collected beer coasters with logos featuring stylized letters modeled after what I considered “old-timey Gothic” typefaces. I was especially fond of the Austrian beer Hirter’s logo. Shortly after my trip, I started the typography class required for my graphic design program. One of our assignments asked us to design example letters for a new typeface. I went back to those coasters and started sketching out the letters by breaking them up into shapes, which you can see in the middle image below, direct from an old sketchbook. I then took the top flourish of the ‘h’ and the diamond shape from the ‘r’ and incorporated them into a new letter style in Adobe Illustrator—see the ‘S’ on the right.
My typeface ended up looking like a mix of blackletter, calligraphy, and Art Nouveau text, and it was pretty hard to differentiate between letterforms because of that. (My teacher thought my ‘D’ was a ‘G.’ The cringe of past student work prevails! )
I researched more examples and realized blackletter typography was everywhere—from Disneyland to newspapers, and perhaps more curiously—music. I found it on metal albums from the 70s, gangsta rap in the 90s, pop in the early aughts, all continuing to the present day. The history of blackletter and its association to Nazi Germany only makes these associations that much more complicated and incongruous. How did blackletter grow to amass so many disparate references and associations over centuries? And why has it endured for so long? I’m leaning into the cultural contexts hard this week.
Track 18: Back to Blackletter
What is blackletter, exactly? Blackletter typography originated in 12th Century France (some sources trace it back even further to the 700s), and refers broadly to Gothic-style letters known for thick and thin contrasting calligraphic strokes and angular serifs. They’re dense and ornamental. True to its name, blackletter texts filled the page with black ink. There are several kinds of blackletter styles across Europe—for example, Gutenberg used Textura for his bibles in the 15th Century, but the kind we’re probably most familiar with is Fraktur. Fraktur actually means “broken” in Latin, for its “broken angle curves.”
Even though blackletter came from France, it became more associated with Germany largely because of two figures, Johannes Gutenberg and Martin Luther. Gutenberg was not not the first inventor of movable type—let’s give China its due credit for that invention—but he created the printing press WITH movable type, and used blackletter typography to print, as it was the popular style for text in Northern Europe at the time. With the onset of the Renaissance, people returned to valuing the classical antiquity of the Romans. Roman typefaces, with their thinner, more vertical letters, became Europe’s preferred style of letters as they were deemed more legible and were even promoted by the Pope. These Roman or Antiqua typefaces helped spread Catholic doctrine.
By the 18th Century, the only European regions that still held onto blackletter as their ‘everyday’ type were the Protestant Germanic provinces. Martin Luther wanted to differentiate Catholic scripture from Protestant ones, effectively designating blackletter as the official Protestant typeface. At this point in time, Germany was a cluster of small, separate kingdoms—their shared use of blackletter created a sense of unity between them, not just in language and geography, but also through religion as well. After the kingdoms united to create the German Empire in the late 1800s, Fraktur became Germany’s official typeface, communicating a national identity, which over time, would evolve into a symbol for German nationalism.
It took 12 years of Nazi rule to undo the 800-year cultural history of Fraktur. The Third Reich used Fraktur for all of its communications, propaganda posters—even Mein Kampf’s cover features a stylized version of the typeface. Ironically, even though it was the symbol for German nationalism and tradition, Hitler hated Fraktur, calling for a more modern typeface to advance his Fascist regime. His ambitions for conquering the world required a more accessible means of communication, so in 1941, he switched the official typeface of the Third Reich to Roman letters. In his edict, he cited the reason for the change due to the discovery that blackletter was developed by Jewish people, which wasn’t true, but such reasoning was indisputable. But the damage had been done—Fraktur was irrevocably ruined by the association, and no one wanted to touch it. For decades after WWII, regardless of the message, the meaning of the typeface itself would override any other information.
Most of the above summary comes from the 99% Invisible episode on Fraktur, where host Roman Mars ties its history to current use implications in Germany. He unpacks this further:
“Today, where blackletter typefaces can and can’t be used, especially in Germany, is complicated. It depends on the context, and it doesn’t always make sense. When it’s on a restaurant sign or beer label, it’s invisible. Consumer items and commercial ventures that want to evoke a more innocent sense of tradition and quality often use blackletter without any trouble. The same goes for heavy metal and bands and other people that want to play up its medieval qualities. But there are also contexts where its use is not innocent and can’t be forgiven as naive…
No mainstream conservative politician publicly uses Fraktur, but in 2017, a police anti-terror unit in the state of Saxony was sanctioned for using a logo on the interior of their vehicles that featured a blackletter typeface. Mostly though, the only people to openly use Fraktur are neo-Nazi groups promoting a hyper-traditional version of German nationalism. Apparently, most of them still don’t realize that Hitler considered the typeface hopelessly tacky and provincial.”
As we know, blackletter typography holds far more associations than just German nationalism. But once we’re made aware of that perception, it’s hard not to think otherwise. Outside of Germany/Europe, what does blackletter signify? Is cultural decontextualization a way for Fraktur to live on without the scars wrought by Hitler? Is doing so an act of historical erasure? And if so, how do we also grapple with subverting one part of history in order to save another? I have more questions!
If Fraktur and other blackletter typefaces by association were deemed unusable for a time, how did we get to its resurgence in heavy metal, hip hop, and pop music? I don’t have definitive answers. Mapping aesthetic trends can feel subjective and speculative, but the idea I want to consider is the weight of associations. I’m curious to know how certain associations take precedence over others, and how we come to a collective consensus.
I read “Blackletter Logotypes and Metal Music,” a Metal Music Studies article by Vitus Vestergaard, published in 2016. It explores five themes that help explain the connection to blackletter typography and metal music: “genre tradition, religion and Christianity, history and time, geography and place, and pure space.”
In the genre tradition section, Vestergaard traces the use of blackletter back to Black Sabbath and their 1973 album cover for Sabbath Bloody Sabbath, with the assumption that “many people consider Black Sabbath [as] the first real metal band.” (My own internet research also validates this.) While Black Sabbath featured different type treatments for its albums throughout its discography, since Sabbath Bloody Sabbath, blackletter became more widely used in the 70s and 80s, when metal music grew in popularity. Vestergaard cites the album covers for Judas Priest’s Sad Wings of Destiny (1976) and Motörhead’s Motörhead (1977) as examples. Why Black Sabbath used blackletter may have something to do with its religious associations (Black Sabbath lyrics reference Lucifer to say the least), its dark, medieval look, and/or because it conveys a kind of historical authenticity. Blackletter transcended trend and crystalized into a hardcore identity synonymous with metal music. It set a standard and precedent for other bands to follow.
By the 80s and 90s, this association with blackletter as a “hardcore” signal felt established in popular culture, setting the scene for cross-genre usage. Blackletter indicated a shift in rock music—highlighting the emerging “harder” sub-genre of metal, and all its sub-genres—death metal, heavy metal, etc. In a similar way, blackletter signaled the emergence of a new style within hip hop—West Coast gangsta rap which adopted tougher, harder images and lyrical content starting with artists like N.W.A. Ice-T, and Snoop Dogg. New York rappers, like Nas also adopted it.
From what I can tell, in most cases, it’s not Fraktur being used on these album covers, but rather English-styles of blackletter, known more for their more ornate capital letters. It can be hard to tell the difference, but the cultural nuance is there and acts as a solution to breaking certain nationalistic associations. Blackletter in hip hop is now established as part of its visual vernacular—you don’t have to be “hardcore” to use it. Drake, for example, used English blackletter on his EPs Scary Hours 1 and 2.
In the early aughts, pop artists like Beyoncé, Gwen Stefani, and the Pussycat Dolls incorporated more ornate, stylized versions of blackletter on their album covers. The associations here emphasize the edginess of the typeface, while also harkening back to its more romantic affiliations. Love. Angel. Music. Baby. for example, drew connections to fairy tales in its visuals—see the Alice in Wonderland inspired video for “What You Waiting For.” Blackletter appears on the cover of many editions of Grimms’ Fairy Tales.
And finally, I bring us to Taylor Swift’s 2017 Reputation album, which used the precedent of blackletter typography quite effectively. Reputation addressed the drama surrounding a controversial Kanye West lyric and video for “Famous,” which mentioned her. (I’m not going to go into it, but you can read this Vox article all about it.) The aftermath resulted in her temporary canceling, and a self-perceived damaged reputation, which she spun into the marketing for the album. The use of blackletter here not only refers to the newspaper headlines and frenzied media cycle backlash, but again, signaled a “new Taylor,” one who knew what you thought of her and for once, decided not to care. (AKA DGAF Tay Tay) Kanye West also used blackletter typography on his Life of Pablo merch and retail pop-up stores in 2016. The connection between Life of Pablo (2016) and Reputation (2017) is clear from a lyrical standpoint, and intentionally or not, also from a typographical one too? Is it a coincidence? Who knows.
But what we do know, is that typography is a vehicle for text and also the subtext itself.
Thanks for reading.
I saw the article title and HAD to click. I noticed Illmatic's use of black letter a while back (I didn't know other people noticed these things!), and I had a question back then about why he used it.
I initially thought it had something to do with how Nas saw himself or wanted to be seen. There is something regal, and classical, and powerful about black letter, and I associate all those things with Nas. The historical context you offer here, however, gives me a more satisfying answer. Thank you.