"Sitting high atop the Pacific Palisades and overlooking Santa Monica and the Pacific Ocean," the House Industries crew fawns, the Eames House "is still recognized as a revolutionary use of space and materials." The house is the most salient work of Charles and Ray Eames, arguably the most distinguished couple in design history, and the structure's setting was a picturesque locale for the inauguration of the Eames Century Modern typeface collection on March 11th. "We are going to time the release with sunset in the Pacific Palisades," said House Industries owner Rich Roat in the run-up to the event. "How poetic."

Though ostensibly a marketing ploy to promote the release of House Industries' new Eames-inspired typeface, for the chosen few in attendance the occasion was likely to have been somewhat poetic. The Delaware-based type foundry organized an exclusive evening tour of the iconic Eames House for just three people, selected from the mailing list of their House Industries catalog, guided by Charles and Ray Eames's grandchildren, Eames Demetrios and Lucia Atwood.

(While self-guided tours of the Eames House property are available for the outdoors, a free stroll through the inside of the house and studio is unheard of. Interior tours of the house's ground floor are given once a year and only to Eames Foundation Members who have paid their $500 annual dues, and you'd need to pony up for a $5000 membership for the privilege of seeing the interior and the studio.)

The tours may seem like a lavish gesture on the part of House Industries (their catalog is free), but the company considers the Eames Century Modern collection, like the namesake artists, worth celebrating in style. Especially considering the trudge from inspiration to completion: as Roat tells it, the typeface was a long time coming; Andy Cruz, Roat's partner and resident art director at House Industries, first presented the idea to Eames Demetrios back in 1999. "We kept up the dialog and finally made a deal a few years ago," Roat says of the glacial process.

Today the Eames House is an obvious point of incorporation for the marketing launch of the type collection for a number of reasons. After hashing out a licensing arrangement with the Eames estate in 2007, "Andy Cruz and I negotiated the final terms of our agreement at the kitchen table in the Eames House," Roat recalls. Back then, though the real typography work was still to come, the largest paperwork hurdle had been cleared and to commemorate the event House Industries released a few solid wood models of the Eames House, what Roat calls "just a celebratory notion from when we finally closed the deal with the estate for this project." Three years later and they’ve come full circle, with the Eames Century Modern font (drawn by Erik van Blokland, of Beowolf typeface fame, whom Roat calls a "serial doodler") finally in the bag. This time around House Industries make their celebratory notion with home- and studio-shaped sets of toy basswood Eames House Blocks homes, "36 replenishable Michigan-grown basswood blocks representing 29 separate hand-pulled screen passes" available May 1st. And, of course the private tour of the real Eames property as well.

A visit to the Eames House was a natural jumping off point for the launch of the Eames Century Modern collection, which in the tradition of House Industries includes hard goods flourishes--(in the past they've done everything from Neutra Boomerang chairs to ampersand-shaped kitchen cutting boards)--like the Eames House Blocks and a series of large serigraph prints of arrows, numbers and frames from the Eames Century Modern collection. The collection is a collage of Eames influence, and the Eames House is a collage of the Eameses themselves.

Aside from those administrative meetings between the designers and the family estate, their home is a nexus of the myriad reasons why Charles and Ray Eames have attained an irreproachable degree of design celebrity over the years. The building isn't just structurally interesting, or aesthetically telling, or technically impressive, or personally relevant to the Eames story. Much more than any other single piece of the couple's creation, it is all of those things combined. Designated a National Historic Landmark in 2006, the history of the Eames House has been extensively catalogued by the US Library of Congress as a beacon that "represented the fruits of postwar American life, combining living and working, indoors and outdoors, high style and popular culture."

Built more than sixty years ago, the structure commonly known as simply The Eames House originated as the eighth project in the celebrated series of Case Studies on design sponsored by Arts & Architecture magazine in the mid-1940s, and is today both a touchstone of and shrine to mid-century modernism. For the average MoMA member or Dwell magazine subscriber, reverence is a given for the Eameses conceptualization and execution of the structure as an aggregate of their artistic inclinations. But on the technical side, too, the house hits the mark. Not only were the Eameses charging headlong into the possibilities of the post-war prefabrication boom--a technique with numerous logistical and social advantages particularly suited to modern architecture--they were also part of the burgeoning movement considering design sustainability in a time of devil-may-care prosperity. Seattle-based designer Claude Breithaupt points out that the Eameses were also well aware of the broader situational context in which the home would be placed, and planned accordingly. "Great construction for the climate, giving lots of natural light and ventilation, which makes for the really nice interior space," he says of the building's relationship to its perch between Santa Monica's Bay and Mountains.

"I have never been forced to accept compromises but I have willingly accepted constraints," Charles Eames once said of his architecture. Not surprising then that the initial plans for the Case Study House #8, drawn up by Eames and his friend and fellow architect Eero Saarinen in 1945, were remarkably different than what ultimately came to fruition. That first design, an ominous glass and steel pavilion pitched dramatically above the property, was more reminiscent of a cold financial center or airport skyway than the modern but inviting style the Eameses are known for. Due to the post-war shortage of construction materials the Eames/Saarinen plan was continually shelved until, after several years of delay, the building's design was completely re-configured. There would be no compromise, especially for Eames's own house.

Though still optimized for prefabrication, the new Case Study #8 concept ditched the early "raised glass box" approach for something that was decidedly more artistic and more tightly knit with the sensibilities of both Charles the architect ("How cheap is space? How industrial is our building industry? How light is steel?," Charles mused in an Architectural Forum article on the house), and Ray the designer and painter. The couple had a deeply collaborative relationship (the Eames Lounge Chair and the film "Powers of Ten" are just two of the many benchmark works they created in tandem), and they envisioned the home as a new type of free-flowing, multi-tasking hybrid that could double as residence and workspace without an undue amount of fuss. As the Eames Foundation, the group that maintains the house, puts it, "the home they designed would be for a married couple who were basically apartment dwellers working in design and graphic arts, and who wanted a home that would make no demands for itself, but would, instead serve as a background for as Charles would say, 'life in work' with nature as a 'shock absorber'."

Simply put, what the Eameses designed for Case Study #8 was an extension--or structural manifestation--of themselves. In terms of the artistic process, the Eames House presents poignant commentary on the idea of personalization. Whether or not the Eameses intended to live in the house from the time Arts & Architecture's director and Case Study creator John Entenza approached Eames and Saarinen for the project, the initial hypermodern design that the two architects had collaborated--or it would seem compromised--on fell away. Before they made what was literally their own house, the Eameses had to make it their own, in terms of design. The chicken-and-egg question of whether they decided to live in it and then exclusively took over the design, or took over the design and then decided to live in what they'd created, doesn't have a clear answer. "I don't think you'll find the chicken or the egg," Roat concluded recently. Whatever the cause and effect, in the end for the couple to live in it Case Study #8 needed to be theirs. "It was a Case Study house, but the Eameses never lived anywhere else for the rest of their lives," Roat says of the couple's success at having communicated themselves through the building.

Examining the home, one can imagine that what they wanted to communicate was a softer and more earthy structure than the cold edges of the Eames/Saarinen glass rectangle, something clean and modern but still communal and welcoming, more utilitarian barn than urban bank. "The steel makes for a really light feeling, open structure, and with the paneled infill is reminiscent of Japanese wood and paper construction," says Breithaupt of the building's organic configuration. No wonder: the Eameses were influenced by oriental culture such as Chinese kite designs, and archive photos at the Library of Congress show the couple in their living room entertaining Charlie Chaplin with a Japanese tea ceremony complete with traditional tatami mats.

The ultimate draft of the Eames House was finally constructed during the summer of 1949; though it was number eight in the series, because of the delays 11 other Case Study houses were built before it. The couple moved in on December 25th of that year, settling in for a remarkable and canonic career that would cover the rest of their lives.

For House Industries the Eames House was an obvious point of consequence in creating the Eames Century Modern collection, but the building is far from the center of the typeface's frame of reference. "In the grand scheme of our project, the house is such a small part of the Eames influence, so we didn't overthink it," Roat says. Point taken. Yet it bears noting that although the Eames/Saarinen design was scrapped for House #8, the two Cranbrook Academy of Art chums would collaborate anew shortly thereafter, on Case Study House #9, located next door and named for Case Study creator Entenza. That fact in mind, and with no defamation intended toward the immensely talented and accomplished Eero Saarinen, the Eames House is by far the more celebrated of the two neighbors, and precisely because it is so very Eamesian.

In fairness, that the legacy of the Eames House dwarfs that of the Entenza House is because the former is revered as much for its contents and history as for its design. Much to their credit it was the totality of their home and their talents that made Charles and Ray the lions of art and design that they became. Today the Eameses are the benefactors of reverence and a point of reference for all manner of designers, artists and architects. Even typographers. The couple's portfolio, Roat says, "was a great starting point for a typeface family that we've wanted to do for a long time." Regarding Eames Century Modern's balance between tribute and inspiration, "there are so many cues in the Eames body of work from both a philosophical and visual standpoint, that it is probably a little of both," Roat says. "That's the beauty of the typefaces."

As for the typeface itself, how does one go about turning the mystique of legends into a defined set of textual figures? The roundabout way, apparently. "Charles and Ray Eames did not design a typeface," explains the House Industries catalog. "But they did leave a philosophical template for a font collection worthy of their name." Roat describes the process of sifting through the Eames's legacy as "exhaustive research and interaction with the Eames family" that was well worth the effort, as it "further clarified our mission to honor the Eames aesthetic while maintaining the timeless relevance and functionality that characterized their work."

Although the Eameses didn't design a typeface themselves, through their dossier of work the couple left more than enough stylistic hints for House Industries to pull directly from. "Plenty," Roat says of typographic clues. "Ray designed lots of Art & Architecture covers. Look at any of their exhibitions or displays or simply photos of their office. The cues are ubiquitous."

And of course when it comes to translating the work of prominent mid-century modernists into a typeface House Industries is no stranger to the process: the company's Neutraface type family is based on the architectural and design styles favored by Austrian-born Richard Neutra. And since there are six degrees of everything it is no surprise that decades before Neutra's story dovetailed with the Eameses in the House Industries catalog it intersected with the couple in California; Neutra designed the West L.A. apartment where Charles and Ray lived before moving to Pacific Palisades, and Neutra delivered four designs for the Case Study program as well. (Of the four, Omega House #6, Alpha House #13, and an unnamed house #21A are all unbuilt; only the unnamed house #20A, a 1948 structure at 219 Chautauqua Boulevard, just up the road from Eames House, was constructed.)

Though Roat and Cruz first approached Eames Demetrios a decade prior "about doing a set of fonts based on the work of his grandparents," they hit a licensing wall that froze the Eames Century Modern project in its tracks. But when one door closes another sometimes opens. "We couldn't really get the [Eames] deal cooking at the time, and we had started looking into the work of Richard Neutra," Roat recalls of the Neutraface type's origins. "In hindsight, we're glad it went down that way." Neutraface was released in 2002.

Whereas the Eameses both dabbled in all manner of artistic pursuits, from films to fabrics, Neutra on the other hand was purely an architect and as such represented a different challenge for House Industries. "As far as we could tell from the blueprints, he did not," Roat answers when asked if Neutra did the actual lettering for the signage on his buildings. In the case of Neutraface, Roat and his colleagues had less to work with in terms of specific references and more leeway with a general impression. "Sure, that's the point, isn't it?," Roat says of the decryption. He didn't do his own lettering, but since Neutra was working with typefaces that were already available the artistic cascade of influence gave a pretty clear picture as to what his preferences were, which inevitably factored into the Neutraface decision process.

"Richard liked to use geometric sans letters because they dovetailed nicely with his style," says Roat of Neutra's penchant for open and elegant but subtle type. He elaborates that, "the Neutra project was more about incorporating Richard's philosophy and his architectural aesthetic into a working and practical typeface. The geometric sans serif letters on buildings were just a starting point."

A starting point was all they needed. For Roat, any further backtracking--attempting to further distil a common 'Richard Neutra element' from the third-party typefaces that were not Neutra's creation but in essence a reflection of his preferences--crosses into the no-win territory of overthinking. "I think we did our homework, worked really closely with Dion [Neutra's son and partner] and tried to apply his aesthetic to a collection of typefaces," Roat explains. "I would like to think that Neutraface is a reflection of Richard and that he would have approved, but we can never really be sure."

Working from the template of another artist's work, especially when translating from architectural philosophy to typographic design, can be a hazy venture, to be sure. Perhaps assurance is a long shot in the case of Neutraface or Eames Century Modern, but fortunately there are sometimes stronger hints at success. "One of my favorite moments after we finished the Alexander Girard collection," recalls Roat of another eponymous project based on the work of the architect, folk artist and textile designer (and Eames collaborator), "was when John Neuhart, a frequent collaborator and friend of Girard, said 'Sandro would have loved this'."

Roat considers the Eames project to be "very similar" to those of Neutra and Girard. "We based our assumptions off of their use of type and the extensive written accounts of their philosophy," he says. "We also had the advantage of an engaged family [that is] very protective of the legacy."

It may have been similar, but maybe a bit more daunting as well. The Eameses are a real institution of design, nearly unrivaled, and it requires caution to not let working from assumptions make for a slippery slope of misrepresentation. When pressed as to how it is possible to refine what is quintessentially of such eclectic designers and then transfer that from their design work to the unrelated discipline of typography, Roat demurs. "I don't think that's the point," he says. He then cites Charles Eames himself: "The extent to which you have a design style is the extent to which you have not solved the problem."

Roat makes his case coolly, though considering the Eameses portfolio, not to mention the family's years-long hesitation in greenlighting the project, the undertaking still wasn't a trivial matter. When working on assumptions, isn't a fairly deep artistic vocabulary a necessary filter to ensure those assumptions are valid? Never mind the sonorous body of Eames work--considering the couple's house alone, if the average student of art history or typography had no broader frame of reference, they would likely look at a photo of its façade and if asked 'Which famous artist designed this house?' would almost certainly think it was Piet Mondrian. Still, Roat doesn't consider an encyclopaedic grasp of design a prerequisite for a project like Eames Century Modern. "I just think we have to have a genuine love for the subject matter," he says. As for the precision of their particular interpretation, "I wouldn't want to get into an intellectual or philosophical battle with another type designer or art historian. At the end of the day, we are just trying to interpret their aesthetic and apply it to something that's never been done."

The House Industries approach necessarily varies when digging into different projects, be it those that require interpreting an aesthetic or ones taking inspiration from and making a new and improved personal artistic expression on certain themes. Along with Neutraface and Girard, the type foundry had also previously created Las Vegas (based on the Strip city's classic signage) and Tiki Type (inspired by South Pacific surf culture) collections that are arguably better than their inspirations. But artistic license has its limits. "I think that it would be rather arrogant for us suggest that we could 'personalize' or 'improve upon' the Eames's work. That's not what we're about," Roat stipulates. "Our goal, and the wishes of the Eames family, was to create something new based on their philosophy that is functional in a current and hopefully timeless environment."

That something-borrowed-something-new approach would certainly suit Charles and Ray Eames. Like Bauhaus architecture before it, the Eames House appropriated materials for new functions, utilizing prefab parts intended for industrial manufacturing (although in far less austere form than the German school). The Eameses personalized the house for themselves, but did so with completely impersonal materials. In the conceptualization of art, Roat sees this process as less ingenious and more intrinsic. "Show me something that is 'created from scratch'," he demands.

"The contemporary design environment [is] so much about 'originality' that designers spend more time over-intellectualizing their work and trying to cover their tracks from the swiped file they keep in that secret shed in the back yard than they do trying to execute something that actually has merit," Roat snarks. "Our visual landscape is rife with 'original' ideas that probably never saw a sketchbook. Entire careers of highly paid 'art' and 'creative' directors and entire corporate identities are based on dusty piles of mid-century-era design annuals."

Obviously under no delusions of inventive grandeur, when it came to creating their new Eames typeface Roat and his colleagues rolled up their sleeves and set to work translating the particularities of the Eameses into their lettering. "The execution is from scratch. You can't scan and autotrace something that doesn't exist," Roat says of the finished typefaces. "The curves in the 16 styles of Eames Century Modern are original. We drew them with a pencil, then with a pen, then with a Bézier tool."

Of the creative artist's need to balance information from the past with the urge for radical departures, "I don't think learning from the past can ever be baggage," Roat adds. "You can learn as much from the bad as you can from the good. The trick is to know the difference." In the case of the Eames Office archives, there was plenty of good to work with. "We referenced gentle bends of plywood, Eames's use of commercially available type of that period, glyphs that they or one of their employees drew, personal letters that they wrote," he says. To cite their catalog, "Eames Century Modern is a typographic workhorse with unparalleled practical elegance minted in the spirit of Charles and Ray Eames. Refined curves join a symphony of illustrative elements to complement layouts without overpowering them."

Within that process, in developing a creative relationship between the Eames's work and their own Eames Century Modern collection, is the essence of what keyed Roat and Cruz to develop House Industries in the first place. "That's kind of why, way back when in 1993, we started making digital type," Roat says. "We figured that it was something we could sell so we didn't have to work for the people for whom we didn't have a personal connection." Of course being able to work exclusively on a labor-of-love basis requires paying some dues first. "That said," he continues, "if you're a graphic designer and you can't manage some semblance of personal pride and satisfaction in fulfilling a client's needs, maybe you should hustle tables during the day and be an artiste at night. Graphic design is a trade, not an art."

Perhaps that last point is why an official Eames font has been left to House Industries, who have made an art out of the trade. Along with "residential structures by Richard Neutra, Krazy Kar sculptures by Ed 'Big Daddy' Roth, and scallops on a 1974 Dodge van," Roat considers the "bent plywood curves by Charles and Ray Eames" as the most un-typographic thing that has been directly translated into a House typeface.

Still, although Charles was an architect by trade, when surveying the breadth of work attributed to both he and his wife--from architecture and painting to photography and film, from the design of toys to furniture to entire exhibitions, even materials application for the US military--the absence of any previous Eames-drafted typography seems a bit anomalous. What of the couple's approach to things like house numbers or mailbox lettering, product packaging or exhibition signage? Rather than creating something of their own, would two of the 20th century's most celebrated and versatile designers have just stenciled or applied generic lettering picked up at the local hardware store?

"If you look at some of the photos of the splint packaging [for the United States Army], for example, that looks like exactly what they did," Roat says. "That stencil was nothing. The use and the context was everything," he adds, before wondering rhetorically, "but isn't that the mark of a truly great designer?" Such are the peculiarities of genius. "That was the whole point of the house as well," Roat says, bringing the conversation full-circle. "It was built from standard 'off the shelf' materials available to anyone." What they did with it, of course, was purely Eamesian.

When it comes to materials and technology influencing their own approach, House Industries straddles the divide. "The Eames Century Modern is fairly low tech in terms of typography," Roat says. "We're using the deep type handling capabilities of modern layout applications to access things like true small caps, nine different figure styles and some key ligatures." Along with alternate serifs, two stencil cuts, four number sets, proportionally correct "smart ornaments" and encoding to support several dozen languages around the globe, from Afrikaans to Welsh, the typeface is also designed with ease of use in mind.

"We also wanted it to work for the mid-century modern fan who uses an old version of Windows and Word to write letters and compose signage for their grandchild's christening," Roat explained of the scalable simplicity. "We think that's what Charles and Ray would have wanted."

After that twilight tour of the Eames House wrapped up on March 11th the party descended on downtown Santa Monica for an Eames Century Modern launch party, unveiling not only the typeface but an Eames Century Modern exhibition as well. "The exhibition is a bit ambitious for us," Roat said days before the event. "We're using the opportunity to put our two-dimensional toil in a large-scale three-dimensional world."

As the invitations to the event put it, House Industries built the exhibition as "a cornucopia of free-standing dimensional letterforms and hand-printed installations celebrate the intricate curves and stunning stroke contrast that are the building blocks of this new font collection." The exhibition runs until April 1st and, House Industries assures us, will be "a three-dimensional tactile typographical experience."