Why Damn?

WHY DAMN?

In 2020 when I decided to pursue this, I had been going back and forth on potential names for my type foundry. I knew I wanted to go with something short and something memorable. Ideally, these few letters would also be letters I like to draw, are common, and have fun potential for character in my coming fonts.

Damn was a latecomer that popped into consciousness on a walk with Anna. Right now you’re thinking ‘wow Scott, that is both edgy and cool’, but that wasn’t my only reason for being drawn to it. For one, etymology fascinates me. I love that the ‘n’ has stuck around coming from damnation. I like that the word damn evokes different kinds of emotions and sentiments and is said in both excitement and frustration.

More than anything though, it’s a tribute to my late grandpa Darrell Downey. He was an amateur calligrapher and some of my earliest memories are sitting next to him at restaurants drawing together on napkins. My grandpa Darrell and grandma Millie’s house in Ventura was the house of imagination, creativity, and arts and crafts for us kids growing up. If we were not watching a western with gramps, climbing the avocado tree pretending it was a castle or spaceship, we were drawing or making something.

‘But Scott, why damn?’ Touché, just getting to that part. One of my first words was damn, or a child’s interpretation of dammit thanks to spending so much time with my grandpa and parroting his iconic use of the word. It was always exclaimed following a small inconvenience, like spilling a Dr. Pepper on his shirt or getting cut off while driving. As a child, it was the funniest thing, and reflecting as an adult, I understand he was good at letting out little dammits and not bottling up his frustrations. I’ll never be able to hear those curses without thinking of him.

He was the best at being in the moment with his family and friends. He was our patriarch, the king of getting everyone together, the king of softball, game nights, and sharing the joy he found in life with others. AND, he did it all with seven fingers thanks to a woodcutting accident in his youth. The man lived like he had all ten but it messed with his ability to throw a softball accurately.

My favorite thing of all was his habit of walking us out after a long night together before driving home. We would say goodbye inside and then have another conversation on the porch. It was as if everyone wanted to stay in those moments forever. What sorcery is it, I wonder, because I think in a way we did. I remember how he and that porch made me feel long after he was gone. He’s a part of who I am as an artist and a person. I’m far from perfect but he left me with ideals to strive towards to be a better partner, friend, son, brother, and hopefully someday, a grandpa. Damn, I guess that’s the magic of love. What is grief if not love persevering?

-Scott

GRANDPA DARRELL (left) | UNCLE SHANE (middle) | MY DAD MARK (right)