A museum about harbours needed a voice that could carry both ship manifests and family letters. We set every label on one 12-column wall grid and reserved Fraktur for the ten room numbers.

Four shows, four catalogues, one system. Each book uses a different paper but the same margins, so the season shelves as a set.

A bakery owned by fourteen bakers wanted to look like one voice. We drew a small Fraktur S for the loaf stamp and set everything else in plain grotesque caps.

The foundry casts door handles, church bells and machine parts. The identity borrows the rectangular shapes of casting flasks and the Fraktur of the pattern-maker's stamps.

A journal about type had been set in a face the readers disliked. We rebuilt it on a six-column grid and gave the masthead back its Fraktur.

Ten productions, one poster grid. Each title is set in grotesque caps and each composer's name in Fraktur, so the season reads at a glance from across a platform.

A station with four levels and three entrances needed signs that work in one look. We used black on white, arrows drawn on the 12-column grid, and no ornament at all.

A festival that starts at midnight asked for a mark that glows in a dark street. We drew the name in Fraktur capitals and printed it black on black with a single blue overprint.

Forty thousand prints, one search box. The site is a table with hairlines: every row is a print, every column is a fact, and nothing moves that does not need to.

A library where the stairs are the building. We numbered every floor in oversized figures and gave each reading room a Fraktur letter, so students remember A to F.