Toyota Etios Valco dirancang untuk menghadirkan  sesnsasi berkendara yang tenang, nyaman dan halus disamping dilengkapi fitur-fitur fungsional yang lengkap. Sensasi smooth, fun cruising  serta strong functional values  ini juga didukung paket layanan istimewa standar Toyota menjadikan Toyota Etios Valco sebagai best value city car.

Fitur-fitur yang dimilikinya cukup lengkap dan benar-benar focus untuk memberikan kenyamanan, keamanan, fungsional dan tetap ekonomis.  Ada tiga varian yang bisa dipilih berdasarkan kelengkapannya yaitu J, E dan G.

Toyota  Etios Valco J merupakan entry level  yang disiapkan  agar lebih banyak konsumen yang bisa menjangkau mobil ini.  Beberapa fitur utama seperti   AC sudah  jadi fitur standar. Juga dual SRS airbag,  steel wheel 14 inch, cooler box, front seatbelt dengan pretensioner dan force limiter, seat belt warning, adjustable front headrest,  lampu depan halogen, lampu sein/belok di fender, sun visor plus cermin, 7 cup holder, coin  dan card holder.

Toyota Etios Valco E  jadi pilihan ideal keluarga. Memiliki semua yang ada di tipe J, plus  power steering,  alloy wheel 15 inch,  handle pintu dan spion sewarna body, Tachometer, 2DIN audio (with AM/FM, CD, MP3, USB, AUX),  4 speaker, tilt steering column, power door lock, power window with auto down, konektor 12 v, rear window wiper, front and rear.

Toyota Etios Valco G hadir dengan fitur paling lengkap, termasuk teknologi rem ABS dan EBD. Memiliki semua fitur yang ada di J dan E, plus sporty aerokit, lampu kabut, spion elektrik, kemudi berlapis kulit,  tombol di kemudi,  audio 2DIN seperti tipe E dengan tampilan lebih modern , dan ornamen krom

Toyota Etios Valco digerakan mesin 1.2 liter 4 silinder yang memproduksi daya maksimal 80hp/5600rpm dan torsi puncak 10.6kg.m/3100rpm. Ada tiga varian berdasarkan kelengkapannya yang semuanya menggunakan transmisi manual 5-speed. Ada enam pilihan warna yaitu hitam, putih, biru, silver, abu-abu dan beige

JAKARTA. Kabar gembira bagi Anda yang tertarik dengan mobil city car terbaru dari Toyota. Pasalnya, tak lama lagi PT Toyota Astra Motor (TAM) akan merilis mobil city car terbarunya bernama Etios Valco di Tanah Air.

Dalam salah satu teaser Toyota menyebutkan, Etios Valco ini bisa diperoleh bulan Maret ini juga. Mobil ini di gadang-gadang menjadi andalan TAM di segmen city car dengan mesin 1,2 liter.

Dengan kapasitas mesin ini, tentunya Etios Valco dipersiapkan melawan Nissan March, Honda Brio, Kia Picanto dan Mitsubishi Mirage. Sebelumnya, kendaraan ini sukses dijual di Brazil dan juga di Indonesia.

Mobil dengan lima penumpang ini mengusung mesin 3NR-FE bervolume 1,2 liter dengan tenaga 80 dk dengan torsi 103, 9 Nm yang dikawinkan transmisi manual 5-speed. Ada tiga varian Etios Valco yang akan ditawarkan, yakni G, E dan J.

Salah pembeda mobil ini dari kompetitor adalah; adanya pemanja kabin berupa head unit 2 DIN dengan fitur AM/FM radio, CD player, MP3, WMA dan USB port yang siap mengumandangkan suara di empat speaker.

Sistem tombol audio yang terintegrasi pada setir untuk tipe G dan tilt steering (tipe E dan J). Serta aplikasi ABS dan EBD sebagai standar keselamatan.

Kelengkapan lain yang membedakan Etios Valco adalah, aplikasi digital odometer dan trip meter LCD layaknya sedan Toyota Vios. Ada juga, jam digital dan laci berpendingin di bagian dashboard, cukup unik bukan?

Otomotifnet.com melansir, Etios Valco memiliki panjang 3.775 mm, lebar 1.695 mm dan tinggi 1.510 mm. Sumbu rodanya 2.460 mm, coba bandingkan dengan ukuran Honda Brio yang memiliki panjang 3.610 mm, lebar 1.680mm, tinggi1.485 dan wheelbase 2345 mm.

Take a snapshot of the visual culture that surrounds you—magazines, movie posters, packaging, websites—how much of it relies on typography? How much of the typography around you is actually well considered? Chances are you’ll find a handful of beautifully crafted typographical designs competing with an avalanche of visually “rich”, image-heavy creations. Typography is then relegated to the role of “necessary evil” in order to display text, or ill-considered typographic pieces, where the meaning of MS WordArt has been interpreted a smidgen too literally… Why?

It’s fair to say that the global webdesign community is experiencing a typographical renaissance. Revolutionary technologies like Typekit, Fontdeck, the introduction of the @font-face tag, and online licensing for professional typefaces are all encouraging type enthusiasts around the Web to transcend the shackles of common type. Furthermore, clever use of CSS and JavaScript are allowing us to mimic a range of typesetting techniques (though admittedly some basic typographical controls are still frustratingly infantile).

But with such power comes great responsibility. And even though modern tools give us the opportunity to do so many things, doing a great deal of these things isn’t always a recipe for beautiful design. Just because we have many options opening up to us doesn’t mean we need to employ every single one of them in the hope of developing a design that stands out—and most likely for all the wrong reasons.

That’s not to say typographic design can’t be ornamental, complex or even illustrative. But centuries of working with movable type has left us with principles on which to base our typography, and it’s our duty as designers to understand them (at least if we’re aiming to break them). A good place to start is to look at what those who came before us have done—even the briefest throwback into the annals of typography and design history will help.

Consider Milton Glaser’s “I love New York” logo from 1977, commissioned as part of a marketing campaign by the New York State Department of Commerce. Glaser, who did the work pro-bono, wisely avoided skylines, figures of people holding hands, or flowery ornaments by using only a simple heart shape to represent the key word of the mark: love. We all know the subsequent success of the logo, as it has been brandished on millions of white t-shirts, inspiring countless knock-offs since its inception.

And if the heart-symbol of Glaser’s work seems too pictorial in this context, how about Robert Indiana’s “Love” sculpture? Originally created for a Museum of Modern Art Christmas card in 1964, this iconic piece of type shuns imagery altogether, relying only on the power of letterforms (arguably based on Clarendon) to ignite our compassion.

The approach advocated by modernist typographers is one of clarity and legibility. Scientific methods (let’s call it early “A/B testing”) were utilized in the quest to find the perfect typeface—not in terms of aesthetic, but rather efficiency for communicating—and rigid systems were developed to achieve ideal reading conditions. In the strictest sense, typographic beauty is not to be gained from the letters or ornaments themselves, but should come as a natural result from an “invisible” type that unselfishly honors the words and content.

However, movements of any kind invariably inspire counter-movements, and the modernist ethos was to be thoroughly challenged towards the end of the last century, most notably by David Carson (b. 1954), Peter Saville (b. 1955) and Neville Brody (b. 1957). While earlier designers sought to communicate the messages they were setting as clearly and cleanly as possible, these young contenders wished to push the boundaries of legibility and normality, so that the emotion and idea wasn’t delivered via what the words represented, but how the words were seen as objects separated from their meaning.
These three designers were to shape the face of contemporary typography with their groundbreaking work spanning magazines, newspapers, film titles (Carson and Brody) and record sleeves (Saville). They helped pioneer experimental typesetting in the 80′s and 90s’, throwing the modernist rulebook out the window, yet retaining the communicative authority for letters and words.

Nowadays it’s easy to argue that their use of type did indeed include a great deal of flourish and extras. But seen in the context of the post-modern era, it’s clear that this was not simply an attempt to “beautify” their work. On the contrary, the disrespect for clarity and to embrace “grunge” were design statements opposing the impersonal coldness of the modernist designers… they were adding emotion to the words they were communicating, which also reflected the cultural movement of the time.
Jan Tschichold might have turned in his grave at brash expressions such as these, but the power of typography seemed stronger than ever. Their work showed that there is an infinite number of ways that typography can be used to communicate a message.

An example of mark-making that helps to formulate design ideas for working with type and image. Note the changes in mark-making that indicate different levels of type. We have found that exploring design options on paper using drawing and mark-making is a great way to ensure that we are moving in the right direction with a project; plus, we don’t think this working process can be beaten for stimulating unexpected solutions that would otherwise have been very unlikely to see the daylight. We‘ll focus on different types of drawing and mark-making as problem-solving tools and skills; they form a vital part of visualizing and exploring design alternatives that involve quantities of type, with or without images.

Letterforms, lines of type and words come together with different tonal values as well as varying characteristics of patterning; depending on the darkness of tone generated, together with the scale and nature of texture, a viewer is attracted to a greater or lesser degree. Some great examples of this can be found by looking at the newspaper and magazine designs of Jacek Utko. Looking at all of the sample pages below, we are struck by the number of dynamic levels of text created by different typefaces, point sizes, weights and measures, as well as the imagery. The changing tonal values especially tempt and guide the reader through the pages in a particular sequence.

Working with art direction from Liudas Parulskis and Vilmas Narecionis, Jacek Utko has designed some captivating pages for the weekend section of Lithuanias Verslo Zinios. The layouts make dramatic use of textural and tonal diversity and also contrast of scale.
The textural and tonal qualities in layouts are used as much to help guide the audience in a particular order as for aesthetics. These qualities should be effectively captured through drawing and mark-making if the visual of a concept is to be sufficiently realistic to enable adequate design judgments to be made. This can be fairly easily achieved by using a relatively speedy design shorthand practiced by and familiar to many designers. Larger type is lettered in, capturing the stylistic essence, weight and proportions of the desired letterforms; text can be lined, or “greeked,” in using a mix of mark-making techniques, pens, pencils and/or varied pressure to indicate textural and tonal differences.

The examples featured in this article go only some of the way to demonstrating and capturing the infinite rhythms and varieties of typographic alternatives and combinations, but they do still demonstrate that even during early-stage drawing of visuals, capturing subtleties and changes of pace is essential. Drawing and mark-making styles can be developed to indicate and capture the textural and tonal difference that are present when working, for example, with all-caps sans-serif letterforms, as opposed to the very different visual “beat” that comes from uppercase and lowercase characters.

In highlighting the refinement of this type of design drawing, we should also briefly comment on the tools that can be used to express these subtle typographic nuances. We work with a smooth lightweight paper that in the UK is called layout paper; the semi-transparent properties of this inexpensive material are great for tracing through from one sheet to another, making for speedy refinement of drawings. Many of the designers we speak to use a mix of mark-making tools, depending on the characteristics they wish to create; some work with marker pens, others prefer fiber-tipped fine-line pens, and some draw with soft pencils. The one aspect that these choices seem to have in common is that they enable the designer to vary the quality of the mark simply by varying the pressure: press hard to create a thicker, darker mark, and press more gently to create a lighter, finer tone.

Returning to the description of this style of visualizing as being “relatively speedy,” in reality, this process can be time-consuming, and while the results are not necessarily great in detail, this is thoughtful work that we certainly find to be the most time-efficient and creative way to work, particularly when confronted by completely new design challenges.

The drawing and mark-making in visuals that we are discussing here function on a number of levels. They capture alternatives of the textural and tonal details of layout; they are also a great way to explore different compositional alternatives; and they can be really helpful when used as templates or patterns to help streamline the process from marking to final design.

Typographic texture and tone will make different facets of a design more or less prominent. Choices of face, color, type size, tint, weight, inter-character spacing, line spacing and overall spatial distribution will affect the density of type and, consequently, the lightness or dark of the work. All of these aspects can be captured well with drawings and mark-making, affecting not only tonal values, but also the subtle textural qualities of type. Too often, visuals capture only the scale and position of type, without showing more detailed characteristics.

This article offers insight into the creative thought processes I followed in designing a typographic solution for this memorial. I’ll discuss my choice of typeface, my detailed layout, the size of type, the materials, the process of engraving, and leaving open the possibility to add names in the future. My objective was to keep a sense of visual harmony throughout the design, while aiming for a certain consistency in the future engraving of names, regardless of language.

To my eye, the uneven white space between columns looked crude and clumsy. Harmony and regularity were demanded by the vertical and horizontal rhythm of the letterforms, the thicks and thins, the counters. It was important that the white space also have visual harmony. A lack of visual calm and harmony would detract from the overall coherence and stability — not a good vibe for a garden that needed all visual elements to be fully considered, that needed a thoughtful approach and that needed to be an oasis of visual order. These men and women died protecting Irish society from crime. Most died violently and in chaos. I didn’t want chaos in the typography. I wanted to create a calm and contemplative space. The typographic layout needed to be visually coherent, with a sense of structure and order. These people had made the ultimate sacrifice by giving their lives to protect others. The typographic design and layout needed to reflect the gardaí’s role of order and discipline in society, not the chaos that resulted in their deaths.

The task of laying out these names and numbers of different lengths in the allocated space in the limestone was complex. It presented the typographer with a visual riddle to be solved. I requested more time to explore these challenges on paper. Of course, allowing me more time came with a financial cost, but, happily, the architect understood the importance of typography and agreed with my arguments, giving me the green light.

Finding an effective typographic layout for the gardaí’s names and numbers called for a number of considerations to be made, such as the number of names, their varying number of characters, and the dimensions of each stone plinth. Eighty-three names (and ID numbers) were to be carved across nine limestone plinths of varying widths, each of which would allow room for ten rows of names across one, two or three columns.

To get more consistent margins and better balance, I advised that long names not be put on the same row across the three blocks. Long names sat best in the center block, with two shorter names on the left and right. The reverse (i.e. a short name in the center and longer ones on the sides) would work equally well.

For obvious reasons, not leaving any plinths blank was important. So, the 83 names were arranged across each of them, with space left below for names to be added in future (as will be needed, tragically). There is capacity to carve another 117 names into the plinths.

There was general agreement that the shape of the letters and numerals in the 1950s memorial reflected a sense of “Irishness,” particularly in the letterforms, which were calligraphic in style and had a slightly uncial quality commonly seen in the letterforms of the Irish/Celtic manuscript tradition of the 8th century onwards. The Book of Durrow, the Book of Kells and the Book of Lismore all contain calligraphic letterforms whose shapes are influenced by the angle of the quill head and the angle of the scribe’s hand. However, I felt that a calligraphic typeface was not suitable for this project. I wanted a face that was almost invisible, so that, when reading the names of the fallen, one would think of them and not of the typeface. I wanted a typeface that was neither difficult to read nor so full of personality that it drew attention to itself, but rather one that reflected the hand-drawn character of calligraphy, a human quality. Yet it also needed the uniformity, strength and regularity of form found in a print typeface.

It was important that the new memorial have a typeface that could be set and carved in dual languages, namely English and Irish. However, for the long term, given the increase in gardaí with names that are non-Irish, non-English and non-European, the typeface needed to be versatile, be robust and include all glyphs and accented character sets.

I knew that the typeface would need to be easy to carve. I didn’t want one that had thin serifs, counters, stems or terminals that could be easily misinterpreted by a stone carver, resulting in a badly drawn version appearing in stone.
The hunt for a suitable typeface was on!

After some research online and using atlases of type, I found three possibilities for the project: Optima, Zapf Humanist 601 and Exemplar Pro. Each had a beautiful visual rhythm and lovely numerals. They were also all available for purchase in OpenType format and — more importantly for typesetting — available in digital form. The faces could all be slightly modified if needed with accented characters (commonly found in the Irish and central European languages), customized letters and individual number spacing.

As an intern at Cooper in the summer of 2011, I learned how to use Adobe Fireworks to make both interactive prototypes and polished visual designs. The versatility of Fireworks meant that everyone on the team could easily share files back and forth during a project.
Interaction designers use Fireworks as the digital equivalent of a refined sketching tool. More flexible than pen and paper (when using shared layers, symbols and styles), Fireworks retains the fast and direct nature of drawing but with a higher fidelity than pen and paper or a whiteboard. This technique is very useful early in the design process when many major decisions are still being evaluated. Many other tools for wireframing are out there that include libraries of UI components, but Fireworks is one of the only wireframing applications that also has robust illustration and design capabilities that can be used to create original content. This is one of the most overlooked benefits of Fireworks, because it increases the likelihood that you will come up with an original design that is tailored to the problem(s) you are designing a solution for.

In the article “Designing Interactive Products With Fireworks,” published on Adobe Developer Connection, Nick Myers (previously principal visual designer at Cooper, and now managing director, design services) shares his thoughts about the design process and how Fireworks fits into the various stages:
“At Cooper, we design a wide variety of interactive products for platforms, including the desktop, the web, and mobile devices. Our design teams are small and usually consist of an interaction designer, design communicator, visual designer and, if there is a hardware component, industrial designer. The interaction designer and design communicator work together to design and document the behavior of the interface, while the visual designer is responsible for the interface’s visual appearance. The industrial designer handles the physical form factor of hardware. Finally, the team is managed by an engagement lead who designs the engagement and provides guidance and direction to the team.
During the solution-creation phases of a typical project, a design team begins storyboarding scenarios on whiteboards and then transfers these sketches to the screen, where they are iterated and refined over and over. The design is then documented for our clients to follow and reference as they build their products.
After the big ideas are generated, the interaction designer quickly transfers his work to Adobe Fireworks where the details are added to the product. Other design groups or firms may use one tool, like Visio or OmniGraffle, for interaction design and another, like Photoshop, for visual design, but we have learned over the years that working in Fireworks throughout the design process has many benefits.
First, it encourages our teams to be more collaborative as we pass our work back and forth and solve problems together. We also work much faster, as we don’t have to recreate elements or check our work against each other’s files. Finally, it reduces mistakes during design, as we aren’t managing multiple versions of files.”
(You can also watch a video on the same subject, in which Tim McCoy and Nick Myers discuss how they use Adobe Fireworks for interaction and visual design.)
In another article, “Industry Trends in Prototyping,” Dave Cronin (previously director of interaction design at Cooper and now at General Electric) shares more about the role of Fireworks at Cooper:
“While pen and paper can be a perfect medium for creating storyboards, we’ve found that the combination of a Wacom tablet and Adobe Fireworks allows us to work even more quickly and efficiently. At Cooper, we use Fireworks as our primary screen rendering and production tool for work from sketch to final graphic assets.
To create a sketchy storyboarded scenario in Fireworks, we typically rely on the States panel to represent each state in the scenario. We use layers, shared across states, and symbols to reuse screen elements, eliminating the need to draw the same thing over and over again.”

For most projects at Cooper, the following are the four major stages of the design process. (Technically, there are many more — such as primary research, competitive analysis and persona development — but they are beyond the scope of this series of articles.)

Converting older websites to responsive design causes headaches not because small screens are difficult, but because most HTML documents were written under an assumption about screen size. Prior to the iPhone’s introduction in mid-2007, designers could rely on windows at least 700 pixels wide (if they ignored accessibility). Conventions like navigation bars, two- and three-column layout and hover effects evolved to fit the mouse-based wide-screen standard. Designers made their upper left corner logos clickable because it was expected.

Mobile devices shake old habits in two ways. Now, not only do we have small-screen iPhones, Android phones, Kindles, iPads and other mobile devices, but we’re asking websites to adapt to whichever device comes knocking. You want CNN on an xBox? It could happen. You want Smashing Magazine on a Web-enabled TV? If it’s not here, it will be soon.

Designing for future cases affects both page layout and website structure. We can’t control on which devices our digital content is viewed — rather, experienced. No amount of “best viewed with…” badges will stop people from reading and remixing what we write, paint, compose or otherwise create. Web pages don’t have to use 12- or 16-column grids, and websites don’t have to follow strict hierarchies. But getting there means facing a legacy that did.
Mobile Is Also A Content Problem.

Let’s say you’re employed by a large company. Surveys indicate that many customers are more likely to visit your website with a smartphone. The large company is planning a redesign of their existing site. Your organization (or more likely you and your Web-savvy coworkers) adopts a mobile-first strategy. Yet before sketching icons, perusing responsive grids or cramming HTML5, one fact threatens to derail the redesign project. The content isn’t just ill-formatted for small screens — it’s ill-formatted for anything other than desktop browsers less than 960 pixels wide.

Traditionally “content” is the information that a website contains. But tradition also said designers could rely on windows at least 800 pixels wide.
To make digital content supple enough for mobile (and prepare for whatever comes next), a website needs focus. And to focus a website, we need to find its vital content.

“Vital” is a subjective measure of content’s usefulness to all parties concerned. It may take the form of text, images or video. It might cover many pages or just a few tweet-length sentences. But vital content is why the website exists. Content does not fill a website; a website is the stage on which designers present content.While vital is not synonymous with popular, the two are related. Popularity is how the public ranks vital information against itself. Contrast that with priority, or which information the website’s owners consider most-to-least important. Owners may consider information important, but if end users don’t need it, it’s not vital.

When computers first gained graphical user interfaces, software engineers helped people make the transition from physical offices to digital files with the metaphor of a desktop. Folder icons represented groups of files; document icons had a dog-eared corner that’s still common long after it was no longer needed. Skeumorphic trash cans are still with us.
Likewise, Web pages were akin to pages in a book or magazine. But the analogy doesn’t fit modern websites, let alone websites for mobile devices. A page is not the smallest unit of information. Rather, websites are collections of useful or informative media which may be sorted into different screens (or sections, or blocks, or views — time will tell which term becomes popular).

With the likes of Firefox OS (Boot to Gecko), Chrome OS and now Ubuntu for phones — an OS that makes “Web apps” first-class citizens — delivering native app-like experiences on the Web may become a necessity if users begin to expect it. Many in our field have argued for a degree of separation between the Web and native platforms for both technical and philosophical reasons. They’re certainly wise to heed caution, but as consumer devices continue to blur the boundaries, it’s worth thinking about what we can learn from native app design.

In this article, I’ll be walking through a build demo that centers on two topics. The first is responsive design patterns that embrace the viewport and that improve content discoverability beyond the basic hyperlink; in this case, off-canvas navigation. The second is the complexities of implementing such ideas in an accessible and highly performant manner. These are two topics that I believe are at the heart of the Web’s future.
With that in mind, let’s get building.

All good things begin with a solid foundation of semantic HTML and widely supported CSS. In theory, this baseline should function as a usable experience for all browsers that visit our website. (It might also be the final experience in less-capable browsers.)
As a starting point, I’ll use a technique very similar to Aaron Gustafson’s “Smart Mobile Navigation Without Hacks.” It requires no JavaScript to function.

You could consider the HTML alone, with little to no styling, as being “breakpoint zero.” If it’s not logical at this stage, then accessibility will not improve. Media queries are based on a viewport width of 45em (that’s content-dependent). Above this breakpoint, the navigation is permanently visible. I prefer em units because they allow breakpoints to maintain a relationship with text size. Lyza Gardner explains in detail in her post “The EMs Have It: Proportional Media Queries FTW!” I’m using both min-width and max-width media queries to scope CSS. This adds a bit of complexity. Most people prefer a “mobile-first” build, using only progressively larger min-width queries. The downside with that technique is the amount of resetting required if an element has noticeably different visual states. Neither method is right or wrong.

The crux of this initial stage is the :target pseudo-class selector, utilized to show and hide the navigation. Only IE8 and lower lack support. However, this is a non-issue if you serve a semi-fluid desktop style sheet to old IEs. Jake Archibald, Nicolas Gallagher and Stuart Robson can tell you more.
As the demo takes shape, I’ll continue to introduce the main development principles. There’s a long way to go yet…

For some websites, the above may suffice — but not for us! We’re experimenting with off-canvas patterns and striving for that native experience. Because we cannot ignore older browsers, it’s now time to progressively enhance. I’m adding the class js-ready to the document element after the DOMContentLoaded event fires. The selector .js-ready is used as a hook to safely restyle the navigation off-canvas. If for whatever reason JavaScript doesn’t load, then the original functionality from demo 1 still exists.

To show and hide the navigation, I’m toggling a class of js-nav on the document element when the user clicks (or taps) the relevant buttons. This simply applies a style of left: 70% to the #inner-wrap element (#outer-wrap is used to hide any overflow and to avoid scrollbars).
This is a fairly basic enhancement, but importantly it remains usable before JavaScript is ready. It’s also notable that no inline styles are written with JavaScript; only classes are used to manage states.

Jumping between open and closed navigation states makes for a jarring user experience. Users need to understand — or even see — how an interface has changed. This is often the point where developers let the Web down. To be fair, building user interfaces is incredibly difficult. What I’m going to show below is far from perfect, but it’s certainly a step in the right direction.

One rather common example of this is the myriad of blog posts and showcases claiming to display “hand-lettered typography” — I’ve even heard university professors say it. Though the phrase seems to make sense, it’s actually a contradiction in terms — hand-lettering is not typography at all! Before you throw your pens and brushes at me in protest, please let me explain!

Even though lettering and typography share many of the same concepts, and a good eye and understanding of one will enable you in the other as well, they are completely different disciplines. Let’s begin by defining how we understand each term.
What Is “Typography”?

Typography is essentially the study of how letterforms interact on a surface, directly relating to how the type will be set when it eventually goes to press. One definition is stated as “the style, arrangement or appearance of typeset matter,” and is a product of the movable type printing system that much of the world has used for centuries. It is related to typesetting and can include type design. In our current digitally-driven design world, this means working with fonts on a daily basis for most of us.
Typography is actually a subset of lettering, because it is the study of letters applied to typefaces. Many designers have also taken up letterpress printing as a hobby or side interest, which also utilizes aspects of typography or typesetting, depending on the project.

Gerrit Noordzij, professor of typeface design at the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague, Netherlands, from 1960 to 1990, defines typography as “writing with prefabricated characters.” Peter Bil’ak, founder of Typotheque, notes that this “implies a complete distinction from lettering, handwriting or graffiti, which are also concerned with creating letter-shapes, but don’t offer a repeatable system of setting these letters.”
It is quite common for people to refer to lettering as typography, but you should always avoid doing so when speaking with a client. Typography might be used in a logo, but so might custom lettering. Your client may not know the difference, but you do, and it’s important to have an educated client. This requires that we speak to them using the right terms, and it makes things easier to understand for both you and your client.
In addition, as designers of any sort, we strive to maintain a high level of professionalism, and using terminology correctly is an important part of showing pride in our line of work and being confident that we can do it, not simply to get the job done, but to produce excellent work.
What Is “Lettering”?

Lettering can be simply defined as “the art of drawing letters”. A lot goes into making lettering look right, and that’s an entirely different topic, but the concept is very simple: a specific combination of letterforms crafted for a single use and purpose as opposed to using previously designed letters as components, as with typography. Often lettering is hand-drawn, with pens, graphite or brushes, although some people start their work directly in Adobe Illustrator. Engraving and similar arts are related to lettering.

Just as typography is not lettering, lettering is not typography. Widely respected lettering artist Jessica Hische gave a talk on the subject at the FRONTEND 2011 conference, for those who “don’t understand the difference between lettering and type,” getting into the pertinent information with some concise definitions at around ¾ the way through the video.

Typography does indeed have similarities to lettering — it is still dealing with letters, but within the context of typefaces and their proper use. Therefore, it’s not a good idea to refer to typography as lettering, since they have different connotations and you don’t want to confuse your client by swapping terms. Again, accuracy in terms is an important element in any profession and design is no different.
Similarities And Differences.

The visual concepts that are behind typography and lettering are largely shared by both disciplines. Letterspacing, consistent weight and contrast, the rules that we go by for what works and what doesn’t work, still apply. However, often the terms used are different. For space between two lines of text that are typeset, we use the term “leading,” referring to the strip of lead that printers would set between the lines of type to give more space. The same concept applied to lettering would simply be called “line spacing.”

Now that HTML5 has finally made sectioning elements available, many of us greet them with great reluctance. Why? Partly, because we’re a community which is deceptively resistant to change, but also because of some perceived discrepancies regarding advice in the specification. In truth, the advice is sound and the algorithm for sectioning is actually easier to use than previous implementations. Some developers are just very married to their old workflow, and they think you should be too. There’s no good reason why.

Make no mistake: Sectioning elements help you improve document structure, and they’re in the spec’ to stay. Once and for all, I will be exploring the problems these elements solve, the opportunities they offer and their important but misunderstood contribution to the semantic Web. If you’re unfamiliar with the concept of the “semantic Web,” this video is a great introduction.My introduction to Web design was via a university course module called something like “2.1: Dreamweaver,” and I recall my first website well. I remember my deliberately garish choice of Web-safe colors. I remember it looking right only in Netscape Navigator. Most of all, I remember hours of frustration from tugging at the perimeter of a visual layout tool named “table.” I had no idea at the time that this layout tool represented a type of annotation called an HTML tag. Furthermore, no one told me that this annotation invited my patchwork of primary colors and compressed JPEGs to be computed as a sort of demented Excel spreadsheet. In other words, I had no idea I was doing it wrong.

Macromedia’s Dreamweaver didn’t make the creation of valid documents impossible, but it was one of a number of emerging GUI editors that pandered to our desire for visual expression more than it encouraged informational clarity. Dreamweaver, and other editors classified under the misnomer “WYSIWYG,” helped transform a standardized information system into a home for graphic design and enabled a legion of insufferable Nathan Barleys to flypost the World Wide Web with their vapid eye candy. I was one of many.

By the time I made my first website, the Web standards movement, promoting compliance, uniformity and inclusion, was burgeoning. I just wasn’t aware of it until much later. I didn’t have to be: Agency-based Web design was still mainly graphic design with a reluctant programming department clumsily bolted on. If you’re doubtful of the grip that this culture has had on the World Wide Web, look no further than the fact it took until 2010 (2010!) for us to concede that Web browsers are not really made of paper.
When I finally became familiar with Web standards and the practice of “doing things right,” it was as someone who still worked primarily as a visual designer. Inevitably, my first forays into standards-based design revolved around mastering “CSS layout,” the practice of visually arranging content without relying on the semantically incorrect.