The Hidden Beauty of Impermanence
In search of lost, time-worn typography
Every day, we pass by dozens — if not hundreds — of objects, signs and symbols that have long been forgotten and yet, somehow, far outlasted their ephemeral or utilitarian purpose and become something so much richer over time. In them lies a world of secret codes, the labour of blue collars and self-taught artisans, and an untold history of our cities and communities — stories kept only in the hearts of those responsible for these artefacts.
We’re told daily that new is better, and that beautiful is untouched, without blemish and polished. But this belies the hidden beauty of things that become so much more for their age, their patina, and the things they’ve witnessed and the storms they’ve weathered — their unmatched authenticity.
There is a community of designers, photographers and collectors who seek out this hidden beauty and document it, preserving these artefacts on blogs, Instagram accounts and collections in studios. These artefacts go by many names (and hashtags): ghost signs, time-worn typography, junk type, found type, and lost type — to name a few. Like birders, we’re constantly searching.
As a designer / developer, working in the precise constraints of pixels and code, beholding something that ‘no-one’ has created, or certainly no-one ever intended to be what it’s become, is as fascinating as it is humbling — in the sense that I could never create it or fake it.
It’s area codes, stencilled with spray paint onto curbs by an unnamed street marker; number plates identifying electrical substations, pressed by a machine operator who would never see them again; marked shipping containers and train carts that were merely vessels in which to carry things; vintage packaging tins for defunct pharmaceuticals; the exposed storey markings on a new high-rise; and the hand-painted but unattributed sign that has long since been plastered over or covered by a new building veneer.
It’s the codes with no cypher; the unexpected words and names that emerge; the rust and the fading colours and the marks from a life lived as something else.
It’s the impermanence of life and the hidden beauty that we all need to search for in it.
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