In the beginning, typography was denounced as “The Black Art.” Though why or by whom I can’t exactly say. Perhaps it had to do with an invention’s magic air, or the fear that the spread of the word would undo souls – It probably simply came down to printers being eternally bedaubed in black ink. Lately I’ve been thinking more along the lines of how certain composers set words out of their own ink-black darkness – And no matter how strong the white spirits, they’re unable to wash the ink from their hands, stained like a weeping woman’s mascara-smudged face, or the finger-printed hands of a gangster.