Ambagious Tactics

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Ambagious Tactics is a box containing 120 small white cards, most of which show a short aphorism, suggestion or piece of advice for the creatively-minded. A few cards at the end of the box feature line drawings instead of words; there are also three blank cards for the user’s own contributions. Anyone familiar with  Brian Eno and Peter Schmidt’s Oblique Strategies will recognise the form: “over one hundred worthwhile dilemmas” which artists, writers (and anyone else) can use as a prompt to jolt a creative endeavour away from familiar ruts or to provide a solution to an impasse or problem.

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The first deck of Oblique Strategies was published in an edition of 500 copies 50 years ago which makes Ambagious Tactics an anniversary celebration as well as “An Oblique Tribute Act—A choir of over 100 versatile enigmas”. The main difference between the Strategies and the tributes is that the Strategies were mostly the work of Eno and Schmidt, although I think Eno says somewhere that the pair asked friends and colleagues for contributions. For the tributes Alistair Fruish has collected a single suggestion from many different people, myself included:

Some of these creatives are connected to Eno and Schmidt, and some are folk who regularly used Oblique Strategies, others are members of Arts Labs around the country, and some people were asked for the hell of it.

I’m very familiar with Oblique Strategies, mostly via their recent manifestations as online editions or freeware applications. The only physical deck I’ve seen is Alan Moore’s heavily-used first edition, and Alan happens to be one of the contributors to this deck.

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My own contribution may seem a little glib or obvious at first: when you’re creating something you’re invariably on the lookout for things you don’t like. The question is intended to have a wider reach than this, and refers to something Jon Hassell used to talk about with regard to his own creations: the question of what you really like in a fundamental sense, and how this can be distilled into your own creative activities. Asking yourself what you really like helps you avoid falling into the slipstream of prevailing trends (unless that’s what you really like…), or doing something solely to fulfil other people’s expectations. Hassell couldn’t be involved with the project so this was my attempt to bring some of his own thinking to the tribute act. My original idea—”Do the washing up”—was one I had to reject after I confirmed that it’s one of the suggestions you’ll find in Oblique Strategies. (It’s one I recommend all the same. Try it.)

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Ambagious Tactics has been published by the Northampton ArtsLab and Alan Moore’s Mad Love imprint. I don’t know how much you might have to pay if you want a set of the cards but there’s an email address on this page for those requiring further details.

Before I started writing this post I thought I’d see what random suggestion the Oblique Strategies application on my phone might have to offer. The advice is suitably oblique and rather fitting as well:

Revaluation (a warm feeling)

Previously on { feuilleton }
Jon Hassell, 1937–2021
Imaginary Landscapes: A film on Brian Eno

Weekend links 799

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A Night Alarm: The Advance! (1871) by Charles West Cope.

• At Spoon & Tamago: Meet the artist creating humorous, nihonga-style images of daily life with their rescue cat.

• The thirteenth installment of Smoky Man’s exploration of The Bumper Book of Magic has been posted (in Italian) at (quasi).

• New music: I Remember I Forget by Yasmine Hamdan; Clearwater by Maps And Diagrams.

His boss was a cards-to-his-chest type named Boynt Crosstown—and here I admit to having dropped that in as the merest excuse to revel right now in more of Pynchon’s christenings: Dr. Swampscott Vobe, Wisebroad’s Shoes, Connie McSpool, Glow Tripworth de Vasta, Cousin Begonia, “child sensation Squeezita Thickly”—for this author’s longstanding genius there on that private swivel chair of the Department of Character Appellations matches long-gone Lord Dunsany’s for imaginary gods and cities.

William T. Vollmann reviews Shadow Ticket, the new novel by Thomas Pynchon

• At Colossal: Twelve trailblazing women artists transform interior spaces in Dream Rooms.

• At Public Domain Review: Ballooning exploits in Travels in the Air (1871 edition).

• At the BFI: Josh Slater-Williams on where to begin with the films of Satoshi Kon.

Colm Tóibín explains why he set up a press to publish László Krasznahorkai.

• At Print Mag: Ken Carbone on a pool of perfection in Paris.

• Mix of the week: Bleep Mix #310 by Rafael Anton Irisarri.

• Steven Heller’s font of the month is OTC Textura.

Ron Mael’s favourite albums.

Shadowplay (1979) by Joy Division | Shadow (1982) by Brian Eno | Shadows (1994) by Pram

Two new covers

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My latest cover designs have arrived in time for Spook Month, although the first of these suits the season more by association than its appearance. Jim Rockhill’s A Mind Turned in Upon Itself is a study of the work of J. Sheridan Le Fanu, Ireland’s leading writer of ghost stories and Gothic fiction. This is another design for Swan River Press which adheres to the publisher’s preferred format of a dustjacket that wraps a small hardback with textured and illustrated boards. The brief was fairly straightforward, to present a rare photograph of Le Fanu in a suitably attractive manner. My initial idea was to create a frame that would reflect to some degree various aspects of Le Fanu’s fiction, but it quickly became apparent that the portrait photo was too tall and narrow to sit easily inside a frame that matched the ratio of the book. A better option was to look for a frame which could fit the shape of the book while also filling in the space around the photo.

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A page from The Workshop: a Monthly Journal Devoted to Progress of the Useful Arts.

When Le Fanu was writing in the mid-19th century book design had become very lavish, with a proliferation of presentation volumes gold-blocked and embossed on their covers and spines. The Heztel editions of Jules Verne are prime examples, as are the many editions of Gustave Doré’s books. My cover is an adaptation of a German edition of Doré’s Bible which had an unusual panel in the centre that happened to be a good size and shape to accommodate the Le Fanu photo, although I still had to extend the design a little. My version also includes a pair of small Le Fanu monograms embedded in the frame.

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For the board illustration I followed the form of an earlier Swan River book with an Irish theme, The Far Tower, whose boards I covered with an engraving collage. The end result, which looks like a single illustration, is a composite of two smaller illustrations from a book of views of Ireland, together with a quantity of foliage which frames the design and joins the pictures together.

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The second cover is for a book I’m working on at the moment, Lovecraft’s Brood, a sequel to Tachyon’s well-received Lovecraft’s Monsters. I was very pleased to be asked to work on this one, the earlier book is a favourite of mine from among the books I’ve done for Tachyon, and Ellen Datlow is an expert at compiling well-chosen story collections. There’s not much I can say about the cover which follows the form of the previous book. As with Lovecraft’s Monsters, the framed face will also appear as one of the interior illustrations. You’ll have to wait a while to see the results of this, however. Watch this space.

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Meanwhile, I’ve neglected to mention another Tachyon book whose interiors I’ve designed which is available now. The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale is a great introduction to the work of a master of horror fiction whose stories manage to be grim and witty in equal measure. Very grim at times; visceral horror is Lansdale’s forte. The collection includes his best-known story, Bubba Ho-Tep, and features cover art by another Swan River Press cover artist, Dave McKean.

Previously on { feuilleton }
Lovecraft’s Monsters

Lettering Lovecraft

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A font design.

I’m still working on the new edition of my Lovecraft book, other projects permitting. The restoration gained a substantial boost last week when I finished re-lettering all the old comics pages, something I was initially reluctant to do given the amount of work involved. To date, there are 71 finished comics pages, 69 of which contain one or more lettered captions. This has never been a book where I’d want to use a typical US-style comics font, and with drawn pages you often want to avoid using book fonts which look too mechanical and precise when set among drawings. The thing to do—if I was going to do it at all—would be to design a font that would be a neater version of my hand-drawn lettering without looking so different that it changed the character of the pages. I’ve made fonts in the past but never taken the time to make one that would have to work this well.

There were two reasons for committing to all the effort. The first was that my lettering on the old pages had never been all that good to begin with. When I started work on The Haunter of the Dark in January 1986 the only comic strips I’d drawn had been jokey four-panel things while still at school. For the Lovecraft adaptations I was inventing my own method of comics adaptation from the ground up, paying little attention to prior examples beyond being vaguely inspired by Bryan Talbot’s first Luther Arkwright book, and the strips I enjoyed in Heavy Metal magazine. The Heavy Metal strips generally gave primacy to the art, with artwork that was more like illustration than production-line comic art. As with underground comics, most of the strips were also lettered by the artists themselves. The captions I drew on the second page of The Haunter of the Dark were pretty much invented on the spot, and since I tended to go along with these decisions once they’d been made, the first few pages established the look of all those that followed.

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The weathered reference page from A Book of Lettering.

The lettering style I ended up with was an awkward amalgam of three different designs: my own lower-case letters, plus two sets of capitals taken from a page in A Book of Lettering (1939) by Reynolds Stone, one of my mother’s books from art school that she gave me when I was about 10 years old. For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to use the Black Letter (or Gothic) capitals at the beginning of each new text box, with the uncials being used for any other capitals in the following sentences. By the time I’d finished the first story I was starting to think that using the Gothic caps was a bad idea, but rather than correct all the pages I stuck with the decision through The Call of Cthulhu and on into The Dunwich Horror. More of a problem for readers was that my lower-case letters were made with the same very thin pen I was using for most of the drawing, so they weren’t always easy to read. Once again, I stuck with the original decision.

All of which leads to the second reason for re-lettering the pages: if I was going to finish The Dunwich Horror then I’d have to letter any new pages in the old manner, hand-drawing boxes that matched the earlier pages. It was this factor that made me decide I’d much rather design a font based on my hand-drawn letters then apply this to all the pages in order to create a more satisfying and unified body of work.

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The Bumper Book of Magic font.

If you’re used to working with vector shapes—something I do almost every day—dropping shapes you’ve designed into a font-making application is easy enough. The time-consuming part—and the thing that makes me avoid creating more fonts of my own—is applying all the kerning settings to every single character. Kerning is the name for the process that causes all the letters to sit neatly beside each other without any unsightly gaps. When I was working on The Bumper Book of Magic I created a font based on the book’s magical alphabet so I could type out words to use on some of the pages. I didn’t bother tuning the kerning for this design since it was only being used for headings, not passages of text; any uneven spaces were adjusted manually. My Lovecraft font isn’t as finely tuned as those produced by professional font designers but it does function as intended, and is much more readable than its hand-drawn equivalent.

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Hand-drawn lettering from The Call of Cthulhu, 1987.

In digitising the letters I made a number of small adjustments. The upper-case letters are still rather uneven, being for the most part based on the uncial set from the lettering book. The lower-case letters have been tweaked a little so that the “t” isn’t so easily confused with the “e”, while all the loops on “g”, “j”, “p”, “q” and “y” now match each other. I’ve followed the original design by creating two sets of tails for these letters. The looped tails were an affectation that had a tendency to impinge on any letters running underneath which meant I had draw half loops to avoid having a tall letter or a capital collide with the loop above it. I’ve grown used to seeing the looped tails, and I wanted to keep them for the font design, so to evade collisions I made an extra set of letters with half tails which can be used at appropriate instances. In doing this I was pleased to see that some of the loops made ligature-style joins with the ascenders of letters like “h” or “k”. I can imagine typesetters frowning at the occasional overlaps of tails with ascenders but I don’t mind this so long as the readability of the sentence isn’t affected too much.

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The same passage re-lettered (and slightly rewritten), 2025.

The results of all the effort have been hugely beneficial. All the pages are now much neater and more readable yet they don’t look substantially different from the older printed versions. I also weeded out a couple of unforgivable spelling errors which had been sitting uncorrected for far too long. And I was able to get rid of the ruled lines that I used to end the captions where the hand-drawn letters didn’t quite fill out the box. One advantage of lettering a pre-existing story is that you can add extra words to the captions, or even rewrite whole sentences. In a few instances I’ve been able add in more of the adjectives that were omitted to save space, so that some of the pages now have more of Lovecraft’s text than they had before.

This week I’m back at work on The Dunwich Horror which is now proceeding without my having to worry about the lettering. Further updates will follow.

Elsewhere on { feuilleton }
The Lovecraft archive

Weekend links 788

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The Witches’ Flight (1798) by Francisco Goya.

• At Wormwoodiana: Mark Valentine reviews the latest book from Tartarus, a biography of T. Lobsang Rampa by R.B. Russell. You don’t hear much about Rampa today but, as Mark says, old copies of his books have for many years been common sights on the Spiritualism/Occult shelves of British bookshops. Rampa wasn’t a Tibetan monk as he claimed in his first book, The Third Eye, but a very non-Tibetan Englishman, Cyril Henry Hoskin, whose stories about his early years evolved following press investigations into a claim of being possessed by the spirit of a Tibetan doctor named Tuesday Lobsang Rampa. Hoskin maintained the Rampa persona for the rest of his life, writing many more books about the mystic East, as well as accounts of his contact with the planet Venus and his psychic connection with his Siamese cat. The Rampa books were very popular in the 1960s—my mother had three or four of them—despite continual accusations that their author was a fraud.

• New music: The Hadronic Seeress And Other Wyrd Tales by The Wyrding Module; Master Builder by Xeeland; Resurrection Of The Foghorns by Everyday Dust.

• The twelfth installment of Smoky Man’s exploration of The Bumper Book of Magic has been posted (in Italian) at (quasi), and in English at Alan Moore World.

• Rivers of galaxies: Mark Neyrinck on the cosmic web and other metaphors that describe the largest structures in the Universe.

• “Curation becomes subservient to metrics.” Derek Walmsley on how Spotify distorts genre histories.

• At Spoon & Tamago: Erica Ward presents Tokyo as a living, breathing organism.

• At the BFI: Chloe Walker chooses 10 great films by one-time directors.

• At Unquiet Things: How Yuko Shimizu rewires ancient stories.

• Steven Heller’s font of the month is Jana Thork.

• RIP Ozzy Osbourne.

Web Weaver (1974) by Hawkwind | The Web (1985) by Cabaret Voltaire | Web (1992) by Brian Eno