Franck Jalleau, a eulogy

Franck Jalleau was one of those teachers we remember for a lifetime. For many of us, he was much more than a teacher: he was a benevolent tutor, a workshop mate, sometimes even a friend. Beyond passing on his know-how of typographic design, he transmitted a genuine humanism, an elevated one, joyful and resolutely mischievous.

Inhabited by a contagious jubilation, he animated his practice with a sparkle in his eye, a fierce generosity, and a magical ability to breathe poetry into drawing, between two colorful outings.

His death leaves us with a deep sense of grief and injustice. Sixty-two is far too early. But in a way, his premature departure seems like a last snub to his irreverent wit, like a bravado to the long, sententious speeches he detested… of which this would undoubtedly be one.

Franck was discreet, sharing a lot by saying little. He passed on to me values, a work ethic, and the urgency of living one’s vocation without ever sinking into solemnity. It’s hard not to recall the many formulas he used, all of which were struck with the corner of frankness, in his typical slamming, verbose way of speaking. Among these, I’ll remember his injunction to “put [my] life at the service of typography, and not the other way round”. Let’s try to perpetuate this principle, with a tear in our eye and a knowing, mischievous, bravado smile on our lips.

Franck was my typographic design teacher at the École Estienne from 2002 to 2004. In 2008, he published Francesco, Scripto and Roma alphabets with what is now Production Type. In July 2023, as part of a retrospective in preparation, I asked my friend the photographer Julien Lelièvre to meet him at his home in Draveil, Essonne. Here are the images.

Thank you, Franck, for your light, your knowing nudges, and your unique way of putting letters in their rightful place: between laughter, the heart, and the right line.

(edit 20250421: added some other pictures by Pauline Nuñez.)