Space is a necessary element of any typographic composition. Graphic designers are trained to understand the impact of this element on narrative potential. We pay careful attention to the space between letters, between words and across a spread where some spaces are filled with type and others are left blank. We consider the spacing between lines; we create opportunities for pause and room for the reader to breathe. We covet these spaces. We come to know their limits.
Though often contained by a flat surface like the page of a book or the painted wall of a room, typography engages with surface in the same way an object does with its surroundings. Unlike an object, however, type always operates as both form and content. While presenting as interpretive texture, it can also be read, absorbed and translated—it can communicate with its audience directly. When we place it in a three- dimensional container, this communicative potential expands. What is invisible from one vantage point can be seen from another. Narrowing in on the placement of these relationships and the pace at which one experiences them requires a sensibility for the whole space and for the minor details a viewer encounters. Where does the body find room to breathe? Where might the breath be held still?
Objects May Shift is rooted in a flexible narrative, one that’s always re-forming. Each object in the booth occupies a space adjacent to another. The role of type is decidedly quieter than the conversations these pairings create. It positions itself carefully. It provides a moment of structural clarity to the scene. It threads the narrative together from behind.