The letter-forms you see here and here appeared in a recent issue of Emigre magazine. This is how their author, Susan LaPorte, describes the process which led to their creation:

". . . the form of each letter is based on the definition of words found in an ordinary dictionary. The words come from the sections representing each letter of the alphabet, and the method for finding the word comes from a corresponding numbering system assigned to the letters in the alphabet. For example, the letter H is the eighth letter out of twenty-six letters in the English alphabet. Starting at the first page of the "H" section in my dictionary, I turned eight pages in; on that page I counted twenty-six words down, and the twenty-sixth word on that page became my starting point. Therefore, the words selected were a result of chance, not choice (italics in original)." [6]

The affinity to Oulipo methods is obvious. And yes, I am also tempted to describe this as a cyborg alphabet, a system whose supposedly naturalized and organic letter-forms are colonized by alien structures and components. More interesting, however, is the way in which this work functions as an interface between human and machine expression; for the dictionary, which is of course a database with a brute force search engine mated to still-born hypertext, is among the most powerful instantiations of what poet and performance artist Steve McCaffery has termed the book-machine. The poet Clark Coolidge has likewise called attention to the strange artifice of the dictionary's alien syntax: "You might think dumbly of the dictionary as a list of words with nothing in between, but of course in its definitions it has phrases like 'that which is blank,' that sort of syntax" (21).[7] (Like LaPorte, who goes on to say that her selection process "offered me the opportunity to interpret the content and form using my own cultural frames of reference," Coolidge's own early poetic work used these "seed phrases" (as he named them) as a kind of bootstrap syntax from which variants were erected, ". . . nouns and adjectives and brighter words creeping in" (21).) But the point here is that the material form of LaPorte's alphabet is reflected and inflected by the generative algorithm from which it derives. Each letter is an origin story, and collectively, by foregrounding their own elaborate production schemes, these twenty-six artificial forms succeed in illuminating the artifice of all typographic systems.