Grain over gloss.
Photography is pushed into hard, grainy black and white, so skin, plastic and stone all read as the same uncertain material.
The story of a faceless man with almost no plan. He doesn't know who he is. Can you help him out of here?
I wrote it, designed it, and made the images. It's a short, strange book about a man without a face who goes looking for the place that sells them. The design question was: how do you typeset not knowing who you are?
On one spread, a single thought repeats until it fills the column. The words never change. Only the emphasis moves, from Maybe to my to back to am, so the reader hears the same sentence argue with itself. It's typeset live below, the same way.
Photography is pushed into hard, grainy black and white, so skin, plastic and stone all read as the same uncertain material.
The cover crops the figure into a circle, like a lens or a porthole. You're looking in at him, and he can't look back.
A clean grotesk, rules and caps on the cover, so the strange things inside, the wrapping, the repetition, land harder against the order.
Columns bend around the giant face instead of sitting in a box beside it. The page makes room for the thing the character is afraid of.
Short version? .