Hochelaga Regular — 30 pt
The typeface in two official languages that don’t always get along
Hochelaga Regular — 20 pt
I asked Jack where Hochelaga had vanished to. I was on foot. I quickly realized the boat was long gone, and I’d have to fend for myself. The Iroquois village was nowhere to be found. Pas là.
Hochelaga Regular — 15 pt
The authorities had blotted out the path with masking tape. I turned to a guy who was passing by: “Toi, mon ami, do you know where Hochelaga might be?” He told me vire à gauche past la Main, when I see la Cité Beautiful. From west to l’est, I followed the path leading from Ville-Marie to Maisonneuve. Soon grains of Lantic sugar were littering the way. At every street corner, it was the same histoire. Old apartment plexes, textile mills and factories. I felt more than a little lost. My soles were hot and soft like molasses. Far away, at the base of the stadium’s mast, I could see a bit of Laurentian flora poking out. Arrête STOP I told myself. I couldn’t fall for it twice. Suddenly, all our Quebecois quibbles seemed a bit bland. Smelling the flowers of the Botanical Garden was still the best way back to Hochelaga.
Hochelaga Regular — 12 pt
Hochelaga was drawn for the ABC:MTL exhibit at the Canadian Centre for Architecture in 2012. The terms of an urban abecedary were used as a launching-off point for multiple portraits of Montreality. As the exhibition unfolded, white stripes started covering the titles and texts of the exhibits. When Bill 101 came into effect at the end of the 1970s in Quebec, Montreal’s municipal authorities used a similar strategy on street signs. The English words on signs—Park, Street, West, etc.—were thus blotted out with white bands in order to reinforce the city’s French character. Hochelaga’s letters echo those of the old panels that still punctuate the streets of Montreal.