Guest: Jeppe Pendrup

Throughout this issue, we’ve explored how novelty and/or familiarity play a role across different fields. And honestly, we’ve only scratched the surface. Every discipline brings its own perspectives, studies, and contexts to how these two concepts show up, whether together or apart.

In this Perspectives piece, we wrap up the issue with type designer Jeppe Pendrup. Jeppe has been working for almost 7 years at Playtype, where they design everything from latin custom fonts to retail typefaces. In our conversation, Jeppe talks about his journey into type design, how he approaches his work through the lens of novelty and familiarity, and dives into a specific project: Designing a typeface for the city of Copenhagen – one that reflects both its rich history and its contemporary identity.

Rosemary: Could you tell me a bit about how you decided to become a type designer?

Jeppe: I started at the Danish Design School thinking I was going to be an illustrator. I was lucky enough to get in on more of an illustration-based assignment, so I thought, “Yes, I have five years of getting paid to just do what I do anyway”. But then I met a couple of people who did type at the school. I used to do a lot of graffiti when I was younger, so I think my whole love for letters was there beforehand, I just didn't realize it. And I had no clue that type design was actually a thing.

And then the Danish Design School - now called the Royal Danish Academy – had some amazing type teachers: Elias [Stenalt Werner], Sofie Beier, and people like Steen Ejlers at the time. They kind of opened up this world during the first couple of years. Then I did my first proper type project, and I just completely fell in love with it. I felt as though it took the design world, which is so vast and so big with so many things you could do, and kind of narrowed it down to a specific field. That made it just a little bit easier to navigate what’s interesting and what you like.

I did my bachelor's, where I did my first proper type project. I also did my master's in Type and Wayfinding, and then it just kind of grew from there.

But, even now after working with type for so long, I don’t feel like a type designer in so many ways. And I still have this feeling, like: Is this really what I want to do? Which is silly, ’cause I love it. I think it's amazing, and I love doing type design. I just don't know when you get to that point where describing yourself as a type designer makes sense. For me – at least not now – it still doesn't. I don’t feel as though I should describe myself as a type designer, even though it’s what I do every day.

I feel though the more I know, the less I know. The stupider I feel, the more confused I am – and that’s... fuck, I feel as though that's every day. I try to embrace it as a good thing, but it can also be like, why don't I just get to the level where I know stuff and can kind of embrace it and relax in that?

But don’t you think you’d want to do something else then, when you're in that situation?

Yeah, probably… I mean, it’s also a driver. Feeling stupid is definitely a driver. And I think insecurity as a whole. I've tried to twist it around and say, okay, that pushes me to actually constantly try to learn more about what I do, instead of just leaning back and saying, now I’m a type designer, now I know what I need to know, and I can do what I do.
So I think I’m trying to convince myself that insecurity is a good thing – but it would be nice to chill a bit more.

Speaking of Novelty and/or Familiarity – did you work on any project that reminds you of these two concepts?

It's a topic that’s so interesting, and I've had discussions prior about it – coming back to this idea of where you find your inspiration and where creation comes from. To me, I try to be extremely aware of my references. I love history. I love researching stuff. I love looking into things. I love looking at other people's stuff. I spend a lot of time looking at other people's typefaces.

I know there are some people who come from more of a tradition of saying, “Find your inspiration outside of design. To do proper original work, you need to look not just within the world of design”. And I completely agree. It’s great to have a perspective that is outside the world of design. But sometimes, this can feel a little bit like bullshit – to be like, “Just look at a blank paper and create whatever”.

I mean, we are in contact with type all the time. Everything I do comes from the references that are inside my head, so all the stuff that I’ve looked at through my entire life is what comes out in what I do. And I think claiming originality or claiming novelty can be kind of tough, because I know I’m just a machine that adapts data. That data kind of floats around in my head, and something comes out – but the building blocks are all references to something.

It’s within the design world, but also from all kinds of other things – everything I’ve experienced through my life becomes the stuff that I do. I try to be super, super aware of my references, and I love looking at type, and I love having type be the inspiration for what I do.

To have a base idea that is groundbreaking or new – not to sound super dystopian – but I think that's almost impossible. I feel as though we all build on references. I can't remove the references I have. I would love to… I mean, you see it in kids’ drawings because they’re just so much more intuitive about it. But we’ve just been bombarded with all kinds of stuff – all kinds of visual inputs. Ultimately, what we do is a product of those inputs, and I really feel that is the way it should be. Disregarding all of those inputs kind of feels like we don’t pay respect to them or even accept that they’re there. It’s like, “No, no, this was an original idea”. Yeah, you can create something “original”, but you need the building blocks to bring that idea to life in a way.

What you're talking about involves both conscious and subconscious decisions, and a lot of it is subconscious. So many things that we create are actually not completely our own creation. And I can imagine that other times, you work on a project where you're conscious you want to create an “old”, but in a new way.

Yeah, for sure. When you become almost strategic about your approach to references and the use of references.

The typeface Playtype designed for Copenhagen Municipality – København Sans – features that double-story g. I always found the double-story g really fascinating since I’ve only seen it in Denmark. You interpreted it in the municipality’s typeface.

So, my first question is about one of the typeface’s main ideas:
“The old & the new”

Was that at the heart of your concept when you designed it?

It was part of a new identity for the city of Copenhagen. Of course, it can seem corny, but it was also a guideline to remember what this project is about – to kind of summarize what this project should be. Being able to do a typeface for the city that you live in, that you feel as though it is your home – you spend so many hours walking around, looking at signs, looking at everything – you need to honor the old Copenhagen.

The history is so immense and so important. We felt as though this idea was a good guideline to remind us that history should be presented and should be super present. There should be rich references to historical street signs and the letter craft that we've seen on the streets of Copenhagen.

But we were also very aware of the type shape – sometimes, when you go overboard on historical references, things can come off as feeling maybe a little bit pastiche or like you're referencing times that are no longer there. Maybe like a typical Dansk Folkeparti¹ approach to campaigns – they always talk about, “Oh, everything was so amazing in the good old days”. And it feels super fake, because you know it was never like that. I feel as though that should also be a part of the thinking when you consider these historical references, that you don't go overboard and reference a time that is no longer there and maybe never really did exist.

So having this balance of saying, “Okay, we need something with historical references, but also that feels timeless” – whatever that is – because no one can say (maybe even in 10 years it will look completely outdated). But at least having that as a goal for the project: Build something that feels timeless, build something that can sustain the test of time – however one does that. It also has to be somewhat neutral, but it has to have a taste, it has to have a flavor, it has to have some branding value to it. Having this in mind all the time: Utilitarian, yet expressive. Neutral, but needs to have a voice. Having the references, yet still feeling contemporary, super functional, and timeless.

Then, when it comes to the people, and when you do something for a city, you have to think about the impact that it will have on the city. None of the people in Copenhagen asked for a new typeface. They’d much rather have better schools, better hospitals, better all kinds of things. But there was a financial reason with the city of Copenhagen as well: It was much cheaper for them in the long run to have their own custom typeface instead of paying licenses for Gill Sans or whatever. Just be cautious of the effect that it will have in the city, and keep that kind of public spirit in mind in a way, saying: “Okay, this is for a lot of people who pay taxes to get this”, and we're going to push it, and it's going to have an impact on our streets and our whole city.

So I think – yeah, be humble about it, in a way. Because I see this typeface probably a hundred times on my way to work, and I think also, with time, it feels more and more Copenhagen-ish. And it’s nice to see that it can grow into that. Because, of course, the first time you see it on a street sign, it will feel foreign, or it will feel not familiar and be different. But now it’s starting to feel as though it can really have that voice, that it aligns with Copenhagen in many ways.

At least that’s our feeling. But we haven’t had too many complaints, so… good times.

What I hear you saying is that you’re bringing functionality with expression, and you’re bringing neutrality so it can be timeless. Are you aware of which parts are familiar and which are novel?

It becomes one thing in so many ways, but of course, when it comes to just letter construction – the core anatomy of the skeleton that the type is built around – where you can build it on something that feels familiar and somewhat neutral. So you don’t build something that’s crazy weird in widths or in heights or huge ascenders or descenders or weird x-heights, but you stay within somewhat conservative base parameters.

And then, when you have that skeleton, you are allowed to turn some other stuff up and be more expressive in other ways – be it in single characters, like the double-story g, or just details as a whole. If you have a core skeleton that feels familiar, then at least that gives you a base package that works.

So it all gets made together and becomes one product and one design. But there are so many ways to balance this kind of taste and neutrality, functionality and expressiveness – not that they need to be juxtapositions – but in some way, I feel as though if you do a display typeface that is super, super expressive, very weird, very funky, maybe adhering to whatever trends are going on at the moment, I think that’s something we also need to be super aware of.

It’s like, “what are the current trends?” Just to know, because sometimes you subconsciously can jump on a trend wave. You need to make sure that you're not doing something just because it feels trendy or contemporary right now, and ask: Will it also feel contemporary and sustainable in 2, 5, 10, 20 years?

So I think just being aware of your own design practice and the trends going on, and what kind of things you inject into the project, is very important.

Talking about too much novelty – maybe we can say too much novelty can mean too much trendiness that can kind of disappear. It’s a short-term solution. Whereas the long-term one is where you have the familiar, like the building blocks, and then a little bit of novelty sprinkled here and there.

It seems like all trends are going on at once, in many ways, but they’re also shorter-lived than ever before. I love trends. I love trends within type. I love digging into what’s going on at the moment. I love seeing what is coming out of the schools and seeing what kind of projects there are.

We’ve had quite a lot of French interns, and it’s been so nice to see how, every year, they come with a new flavor. But the interns that apply that year all have the same style-ish. You kind of get a direct view into: “Okay, this is what’s really hot right now in France. This is what everybody wants to do”. And I love the trends, but I think it’s so important to be aware that we don’t consciously or subconsciously jump on it, because it’s so short-lived.

Talk to us about the double-story “g”.

That’s an interesting one. We actually have a book about it, made by Christopher Burke.² He was at the Royal Danish Academy teaching for a short period. While he was here, he made a book about “the Danish g” [The mysterious case of the curtailed g: Danish style in type].

If I remember correctly, I think he wrote that “the Danish g” is probably not Danish at all. He said there were lots of examples in Germany, but many were lost due to heavy bombing in WWII. Denmark, on the other hand, wasn’t as affected, so many of our old sign paintings are still around. That’s likely why this specific form survived and became more closely associated with Denmark.³

Now, it sort of unofficially became “the Danish g”. It resonates a lot with clients, especially because we speak that reality into existence. We call it “the Danish g”, so we’ve kind of taken ownership of it.

I think it was the type designer Erik Spiekermann who coined that term “the Danish g”.⁴

Either way, Christopher Burke is incredibly knowledgeable, and I trust his take: It probably didn’t originate here. It’s actually a practical solution.

When you cut off the bottom part of the “g” – and that’s why it shows up a lot in shop signage and street signs – it allows the letters to be taller without needing space for the bottom loop. So, it was a purely functional choice, but it has become a stylistic one. A storyteller, even.

We enjoy it and try to introduce it to Danish clients when it makes sense. For clients wanting something custom and rooted in Danish identity, it can be a powerful touch. Sometimes, it works beautifully, other times, not so much.

And I think, in terms of Danish type history – some people might disagree with me – but I’d say it’s relatively slim compared to countries like Italy, the Netherlands, England, or Germany. Our tradition has been narrower, centered around a lineage of practitioners mostly connected through our school system. Many of them were architects, not type designers. That’s because, historically, we didn’t really have a strong type design education tradition. It’s a different academic culture. And, full disclaimer, if you fact-check me, some of that might turn out to be wrong – but that’s how I remember it.

I saw that you used “the Danish g” in the Kobenhavn Sans typeface, it’s everywhere around the city now. It’s one of its key features, right?

Exactly. It’s a unique character. It adds a lot of flavor. And by telling that story, we’re also a part of creating that story. So our work is not just reflecting history, it is also a part of shaping and communicating what Danish type design is and could be. That’s something to be mindful of.

I’ve got one last question for you: 

What advice would you give to student designers or professionals across graphic design, product design, architecture – any design or other field – about balancing novelty and familiarity?

That’s a great question. And honestly, it’s something I constantly remind myself of: being aware of references. Being conscious of the building blocks, the things that influence us – both consciously and subconsciously.

Everything we take in becomes part of what we make. So taking a step back and asking, “Where is this coming from?” is so valuable. 

I don’t believe novelty is something you should chase just for the sake of it. Inspiration, references, awareness – those are far more important. And I don’t think using references makes your work less original. In fact, for me, it’s the opposite. Being aware of your references is part of your craft.

Some people might disagree. There are plenty of brilliant artists throughout history where it seemed like ideas just fell from the sky. That’s not me. I wish it worked that way for me, but it doesn’t. For me, my interest in type and design is about being engaged with the field. That’s part of my practice.

So yes – being aware of references and interested in references. That helps me, especially when I’m talking about what I do. When I talk about typefaces or my work in general, it’s important to reflect on what goes into it, why it’s there, and where it comes from.

That habit came from the design school, where we had to write papers with every project. People hated it – including me. No one liked having to explain their process academically. But in hindsight, it was incredibly valuable. Being able to communicate why you did what you did is crucial. It matters commercially too. When you talk to clients, present projects, explain ideas. It’s not just “I’m a designer, I do cool shit”. That mindset doesn’t sit right with me.

I think it’s great that people work in different ways. But personally, I like references. I like familiarity. I like knowing I’m filtering everything I take in and turning it into something new – be it letters or anything else. Without those inputs, there are no outputs.

That would be my take, at least.