Daniel Maarleveld’s codes of creativity

If, as Einstein’s famous quote goes, ‘mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas’, then that makes Daniël Maarleveld a modern-day bard. 

The Amsterdam-based graphic designer, animator and coder ­who is signed to illustration and animation production company Jelly – delights in dabbling in algorithmic rules and pushing the creative boundaries of techniques based on mathematical principles.

Forget addition, subtraction or even long division – Maarleveld’s generative design approach puts numbers through an almost alchemical process, whereby they might emerge as a dynamic typeface, expressive album artwork or VJ concert visuals.

Images from Maarleveld's live VJ-ing for jazz musician Gijs Levelt, which used an artwork generator he coded himself.

As a digital creative who uses coding to animate his designs, Maarleveld’s background is surprisingly analogue. His father was a calligraphy hobbyist, and Maarleveld attended a local school where students learned to write with quill pens and inkwells, piquing an early interest in typography. “I was always experimenting with letter shapes,” he remembers.

The fun was in finding the limitations of this technique and then seeing what was still possible within those limitation.

That experimental attitude continued into art school, where he used his graduation project, PenJet, to explore the relationship between typeface design and technology; hacking an old Inkjet printer by replacing its ink cartridge with felt-tip pens to produce a kind of machine “handwriting”, which he eventually adapted into a typeface. 

“It was a super simple printer – not a plotter. [The printer head] could only move up and down,” he explains. “The fun was in finding the limitations of this technique and then seeing what was still possible within those limitations.”

For his graduation project, PenJet, Maarleveld pimped up an old Inkjet printer by replacing its ink cartridge with felt-tip pens.

On graduation, Maarleveld found that “there were programmers and there were designers, with very little overlap”, so opted to go down the traditional graphic design route. His fascination with technology persisted, however, leading him into a series of experiments in hacking and misusing software to reveal its underlying logic­ and thereby discovering many of the mathematical principles that inform his work today.

That was the moment I realised I’d been working in an inefficient way [due to the limitations of software]. There was so much more freedom in coding.

Maarleveld’s ‘ah-ha’ moment came at a workshop teaching designers to code, run by Just van Rossum (brother of Guido van Rossum, creator of Python programming language). “That was the moment I realised I’d been working in an inefficient way [due to the limitations of software]. There was so much more freedom in coding.” At the same time, he decided to move away from print, into animation.

The PenJet project saw the artist create a kind of machine “handwriting” that he eventually adapted into a typeface.

It was a timely decision. Although moving typography has been around since the 1950s – think of the famous Hitchcock title sequences – the past few years has seen an explosion in its popularity and a ‘motion first’ approach with designs appearing on screens rather than printed posters and a proliferation of ads on social media. “[Kinetic typography] can really enrich a design and communicate a certain style,” agrees Maarleveld.

 The [live VJ-ing] system involved a digital brushstroke that reacted to sounds, ‘painting’ the melody and beats.

Since then, he has developed his interest in generative design into a highly original method that uses code – rather than traditional animation tools – to animate his designs, creating everything from bespoke fonts and type design to brand identities and interactive pieces.

The system involved a digital brushstroke that reacted to sounds, ‘painting’ the melody and beats from the hour-long set in hypnotic swirls reminiscent of whirling dervish dancers – or coloured pencil shavings. “It became a reaction game on stage, because Gijs could see that his sounds were influencing the visuals, and I was making the visuals based on the sound – I could move this shape around or I could scale it with the volume button or make it spin faster or slower – so it was almost like a feedback loop.”

I see myself as a tool builder, where I try to figure out the limits of what a flexible identity system can be.

Creative freedom, for Maarleveld, is the opposite of a blank page: at the outset of a project, he likes to define parameters and experiment within their confines. “I see myself as a tool builder, where I try to figure out the limits of what a flexible identity system can be – I first build a rigid system, and when I define the rules and constraints, I play with the new possibilities this tool gives me,” he explains.

Maarleveld's font for music venue DOKA was a base for the adaptable generative animations for use on site and on socials.

A case in point was a recent project for music venue and ‘sound bar’ DOKA, creating animations to be projected at the entrance as well as running on social media. The clients wanted a brand identity that could adapt and evolve according to their events and promotions, but also established DOKA as a place for people to sit and engage with music and sound, rather than a typical nightclub.

An algorithm can generate lots of interesting results, but I'm the person who decides which three are ‘it’ and the other 50 are going in the trash.

Inspired by the light installation in the dark venue, Maarleveld created a font as a base for the generative animations, and a large series of abstract animations for the backgrounds. The beauty of Maarleveld’s system isn’t only in the organic neon designs that ebb and flow, reminiscent of coral or anemones, but its flexibility and longevity: “It really helps to set up this sort of tool-based system, because it stays interesting for longer,” he explains. “Most of the time, clients don’t ask for a tool, they ask for a design, and then I have to make the tool first to create the design. This was the other way around.”

Interestingly – and in contrast to many creatives – it’s Maarleveld’s own processes and projects that fire his imagination. “I’m mostly inspired by working: building systems which I then use to make things, which in turn makes the systems richer and full of new possibilities. He sees himself as a curator of what a computer can deliver. “An algorithm can generate lots of interesting results, but I'm the person who decides which three are ‘it’ and the other 50 are going in the trash.”

I make a dozen sketches every day, and I’ve been doing that for over 15 years, so I’ve built a database of different methods for myself, which I can flick through [for inspiration].

When Maarleveld looks outside his own systems for inspiration, it tends to be back into the past. Given the pleasingly retro vibe of designs such as a new brand identity for the Netherlands Crafts Academy exhibition – which features abstract patterns morphing into type – it’s no surprise to discover that Maarleveld enjoys delving into the earliest eras of computer graphics.

Sometimes I use [AI] for testing out ideas – for example, for a physical typography brief, I’ll create a design and then, for fun, try out what would happen if it’s 3D printed or made in concrete.

One of his favourite Instagram accounts, @isolated._.graphics, pays homage to graphics from ‘over and under-appreciated sources’ such as vintage US broadcasting service logos, while over on YouTube, he’s captivated by videos of the Scanimate, an analogue animation computer which produced much of the video-based animation in commercials and show openings throughout the 1970s, before digital animation took over. “A lot of it is related to maths logic and sine waves, which I find fascinating,” says Maarleveld. 

Scanimate, an analogue animation computer from the 70s is a source of inspiration.

He rarely looks at the creative output of his contemporaries for inspiration, although his working habit of daily experiments was inspired by fellow programmer-designers such as Zach Lieberman, who shares an experiment online every day. “I make a dozen sketches every day, and I’ve been doing that for over 15 years, so I’ve built a database of different methods for myself, which I can flick through [for inspiration]. I'm not really in the habit of sharing [my experiments] though – you have to let go of your perfectionism to do that!”