Translator: Gisela Giardino Reviewer: Sebastian Betti
Can you imagine what "TED" would look like had it existed in the Roman Empire?
I think it could be something like that.
An artisan would engrave it with chisel in stone,
for days under the sun.
And in the Middle Ages?
There, a monk locked in his room
would write T, E, D, with his pen.
And without going so far in time,
how would these letters look in the 80's?
They would have electric, rare colors just like our hairstyles.
If this event were about children
I would draw the letters like this,
as if they were building blocks
in vivid colors.
And if it were about superheroes instead?
I would do them like this,
inspired by - in my opinion - the greatest of all:
Superman.
The shapes of these letters talk.
And they tell us things beyond what they write.
They point us back at other times, they convey values,
they tell us stories.
If we think about it, our days are full of letters.
We see them on the bus front, on the bakery's facade,
on the keyboard we write on,
on our cell phones,
everywhere.
From the beginning of History
people have felt the need to give language an image.
And rightly so, because language
is the most important tool we have to communicate.
Without understanding what a word writes
we can detect certain things it conveys.
Some letters tell us that something is modern,
at least back in the 70's.
Others come to confirm the magnitude
and monumentality of a place.
So they say so in upper case.
There are letters not made to last long;
neither the opportunity they communicate.
And there are letters made by inexperienced hands
that, whether intentionally or not,
they make us imagine how that place looks inside.
When I moved to Berlin I felt in my own flesh
all the impact drawn letters can have in our day to day.
I arrived to a new city and that was exciting, novel to me.
Now, dealing with an unknown language
was at times very frustrating and uncomfortable.
I found myself several times at a party
gripped to my glass of wine,
without understanding a word of what was spoken around me.
And of course with a smile as if I understood everything.
I felt limited in my ability to say what I thought,
felt,
believed.
Not only did I not understand the conversations,
the streets were full of billboards and texts I could not read.
However the shape of letters gave me clues,
it would open a little window to understanding the little stories
enclosed in those shapes.
I would recognize in which places tradition was important.
[Bakery Pastries Café Restaurant]
Or I would understand when someone wanted to give me an indication
and I had a hunch that here it was better not to trespass.
[No Trespassing. Parents are responsible for their children]
And I could see when something was made forever.
The shapes of letters helped me understand better my surroundings
and navigate the city.
I was recently in Paris,
and something similar happened to me.
After some days in the city
I was on the lookout for something tasty to take back home.
So I walked and walked until I found the perfect bakery.
The billboard said it all.
I see it, and even today, I imagine the master baker
dedicating to each bread
the same time the craftsman dedicated to each letter of this word.
I can see the bread with the right ingredients
being kneaded softly and carefully
in the same way the craftsman drew the terminals of these letters,
with smooth and precise curves.
I see the master baker placing the buns
over a thin layer of flour so their bases don't burn.
I think of the craftsman putting the mosaics one by one in the oven
being careful not to run the ink.
The love of the master baker for the details
is reflected in the attention put when creating this billboard.
Without having tasted their bread we already imagine it's good.
And I vouch for it; it was delicious.
I'm a letterist and my job is that, that of drawing letters.
Just like preparing bread, it requires care in its preparation,
the right measure of its ingredients
and an affection for the details.
Our alphabet is my raw material, and my limitation at the same time.
The basic structure of the letters is for me a playing field
where the only rule is that the reader, at the end of the road,
will be able to read the message.
Let me show you how I work,
how I knead my bread.
Some time ago I was appointed to make the cover of a classic book,
"Alice in Wonderland."
Alice falls in a burrow
and begins an absurd journey in a fantasy world, remember?
On this occasion, the title of the story,
is my raw material.
At first glance there are things which are not so important
and I can decide to downsize them.
For example, the "in" is going to have a very small scale.
Then I try some ideas.
What if to communicate the idea of ​​"wonder" I would use my handwriting
at its best,
with curls and flourishes here and there?
Or what if I relied on the fact that the book is a classic
and use more conventional shapes of letters,
making everything look a little more stiff and serious?
Like an encyclopedia or like in the old books.
Or how could it be, considering this book has so much nonsense,
if I would combine both universes in one same composition?
Rigid and soft letters living together in the same structure.
I like this idea and I will work on it in detail.
I'm going to take another sheet to work more comfortable.
I set some guidelines, thus I delimit the structure
where these words will exist.
There I can start giving a shape to each letter,
and I work carefully.
I dedicate time to each one without losing sight of the whole.
With much attention I draw the terminals of those letters.
Are they square or round? Are they pointy or plump and soft?
I always make several sketches,
where I go trying ideas or changing elements.
And there comes a point when the drawing turns into precise forms,
with colors, volumes and decorative elements.
Alice, the celebrity here, is located at the front
with volume in her letters.
Many points and lines play in the background
help me convey that in this story lots of things happen,
and to represent that feeling it brings,
as if you had your head in the clouds.
And of course this Alice is looking at this one, her Wonderland.
Drawing the letters of this title I recreate a bit the text's atmosphere,
I let the reader take a peek of the story through the peephole of the door.
For that I gave form to concepts and ideas which already exist in our imaginery.
The idea of ​​dream, of chaos, the concept of wonder.
The typography and the shape of letters work quite like gestures
and the tone of voice.
It's not the same to say,
"TEDxRíodelaPlata's audience is huge,"
than saying, "TEDxRíodelaPlata's audience is huge."
(Open arms)
Gestures and tone are part of the message.
Shaping the letters I can decide more precisely
what I mean to say and how,
beyond the literal text.
I can say my favorite bad word in a very flowery way,
and be really cheesy when I talk about love.
I can speak out loud and firmly,
or in a soft and poetic voice.
And I can tell the difference
between Buenos Aires and Berlin,
two cities I know very well.
And it was precisely in Berlin
where my work became more colorful,
more expressive,
more precise telling stories.
Everything I could not say at that party
standing up, holding my glass of wine,
it would explode in shapes and colors on paper.
Without realizing it, this limitation I felt in the language
became an engine
that propelled me to perfect the tools
I could express myself with.
If I could not say it speaking,
this was my way of saying and telling things to the world.
Since then my great search is that of finding my own voice,
and to tell stories with the exact tone and gesture I want.
No more, no less.
That's why I combine colors, textures,
and of course letters, which are the heart.
And that's why I always want them to have shapes
that are truly beautiful and exquisite.
I always create projects for myself, which are in fact excuses
to draw letters and try shapes and styles.
One of my favorite projects was to send messages to the world
and have my art connect me with other people.
I set the goal to send a hundred postcards to different people.
To friends, family, colleagues,
as well as to perfect strangers,
and people I admired.
Each of them contained a message specially made for that person.
I designed them, printed them, and drop them myself in the mailbox.
Yes, in a mailbox, they still exist.
No matter where I was, I would send one each week.
The person received a real postcard, on paper,
which is something not happening very often today.
So I sent postcards to Tim Burton,
one of the illustrators and minds I admire the most,
who inspired me in a way to follow this path.
I sent one to Ringo Starr
because The Beatles is a band that always reminds me
of those nights before the deadlines at college,
when I was studying Graphic Design.
And to the very Lionel Messi,
because it simply awakens all my admiration
when someone is very good at what they do.
And not only celebrities, but sent them also to family and friends,
and even to my own son before he came into the world.
And you may wonder,
have Messi and Ringo Starr received the postcards?
Me too. (Laughter)
I secretly expected an email from Ringo
telling me he received it and loved it.
Or go to Twitter and find Messi saying: "Thanks Martina, the postcard is great."
This has not happened yet,
but maybe after this talk, it does.
But something just as great happened.
Many of the people I sent a postcard to
told me in different ways that they had received it
and it had touched them,
it reminded them of something.
Or simply it surprised them.
And that connection closed the circle.
All those nights or evenings I spent crafting those messages,
drawing by hand or on my computer,
made sense.
And that lights the spark for me:
to do something and let it circulate.
On the Web, in the city; just put it out there.
And see how it makes an impact in others.
Hopefully that postcard you received from this unknown person
or that book cover you saw at the book store
reminds you of a childhood story,
or adds some color to a rainy day,
or inspire a conversation at dinner tonight.
If stories go round, they meet another stories
and they trigger that domino effect of creativity
where an idea leads to another,
and another and another.
Telling stories by drawing letters,
that's my job,
and with that I look for a reaction in the reader.
To wake them up somehow,
to make them dream, feel moved.
I believe that if the message is important,
it requires work and craftsmanship.
And if the reader is important,
they deserve receiving beauty and fantasy as well.
(Applause)