What does it take to build a creative community from scratch?

Jo Malinis knows firsthand. As the founder of Type63 and co-founder of Type Fair PH, she’s creating spaces where young creatives, students, and underrepresented voices can explore type, connect with others, and feel at home in the design world. In this interview, she shares what actually happens behind the scenes—and why communities like these are essential to the future of design.

What was the moment you realized, “Okay, we need a type fair in the Philippines,” and what gap were you trying to fill by starting it?

People often assume the idea came from me, probably because I run Type63 and tend to be a very visible presence in the local type scene. But the initial push actually came from graphic designer and calligrapher Jeth Torres.

Jeth had a pretty clear picture from the start. He wanted a type event that wasn’t just one thing, but a mix of activities—an exhibit, merch, creative talks, workshops, even portfolio reviews. Something that felt lively and communal, and that celebrated Philippine type design alongside calligraphy and lettering. There was already a growing group of people here who were into type, even if they didn’t all identify as “type designers,” and it felt like there wasn’t really a dedicated space for them to gather around that interest.

There had also been really successful lettering and calligraphy events in the past, the more popular ones headed by Type Kita, which Jeth had been part of, and I think Type Fair Philippines was partly born from wanting to bring that energy back—but in a way that also made room for type. He asked me and graphic designer and letterer Kookie Santos to come on board as co-organizers, and it didn’t take much convincing. It felt like the right time, and like a gap that didn’t need overthinking, just something we needed to actually make happen. We mounted the first Type Fair Philippines in 2023, convinced type designer Aaron Amar to join us the year after, and have stuck with this team through 2025 and now into 2026.

When you’re creating something that didn’t exist before—a fair, a community—where do you even begin? What were your first concrete steps?

I think it helped that we weren’t starting from a vague idea. From the beginning, we already knew why we were doing it, and we had a pretty clear picture of how it could exist, which was through multiple activities happening in one event. Once that part was clear, it stopped feeling abstract and started feeling like a logistics problem.

We played to our strengths early on and divided the different parts of the fair among the three of us. Not to work in isolation, but to make sure each area had a clear overseer. We were still very involved in every decision, down to the small details, and we made it a point to constantly check in with each other so we were always aligned. A lot of it was just showing up, talking things through, and making sure no one was making decisions in a vacuum.

One thing that really carried us was the nature of the Philippine creative community itself. It’s incredibly open and collaborative. Once people found out about what we were doing, many of them were volunteering to help and contribute even before we asked, which made the whole thing feel less like we were building something alone and more like we were facilitating something people already wanted to be part of.

It also helped that the three of us were at similar stages in our creative careers and had all been part of other local creative events before. We’d seen what worked, what felt great as participants, and what could have been done better. We leaned heavily on those experiences. We kept the things we loved, improved on the parts that fell short, and tried to be thoughtful about applying those lessons to Type Fair Philippines.

Early on, there’s always a point where the idea feels bigger than your resources. How did you navigate that stage without losing momentum, whether with Type63, TypePH, or other design projects?

Honestly? Pure martyrdom, haha.

For the first event, we didn’t look for sponsors and we didn’t even have ticketing. Everything was paid for out of pocket—which sounds kind of wild in hindsight—and honestly, it was. But at the time, it felt like the fastest way to get the thing off the ground without overthinking it.

We’ve learned a lot since then. As much as none of us are doing this for the money, we also realized early on that if we wanted Type Fair Philippines to be sustainable, we couldn’t just think about finances. We also had to think about our own energy, capacity, and longevity as organizers. If we wanted to keep doing this, and if we wanted to compensate our contributors, collaborators, and volunteers fairly, we needed a structure that made sense long-term.

That’s where the idea of alternating formats came in. We decided that Type Fair Philippines would move between two scales each year to keep the experience fresh and manageable. 2023 and 2025 were what we call our UPPERCASE events, with a full day of programming that’s meant to be accessible, collaborative, and inspiring. 2024 was a lowercase event, which was smaller and more intimate, focused on talks, workshops, and type trade sessions. It gave us room to slow down a bit without losing momentum.

By our November 2025 event, it really felt like that approach paid off. It marked a shift not just in how we handled finances, but in how we cared for the people behind the scenes, including ourselves.

The fair’s visual identity this year is so vibrant, with a mix of digital aesthetics and playful collage. What conversations or intentions guided the design? What did you hope the visuals would communicate about type in the Philippines?

It really is, ’no? We love it so much.

This year’s visual identity was created by Karl Aguro of Uncurated Studio, who also happened to be one of our speakers at Type Fair Philippines 2024. We usually keep our brief pretty open. We share the event theme and an overview of the program for that year, then give the designer room to interpret and respond to it in their own way. The main non-negotiable is that the identity has to be built using typefaces made by Filipinos. We also encourage designers to be mindful of the previous years’ color palettes, so each edition feels distinct while still belonging to the same family.

Because the UPPERCASE edition involves so many different activities happening across the day, we knew the identity needed to be flexible. It had to work across talks, workshops, exhibits, merch, and all the smaller moments in between. Karl approached it with that in mind and created a system with a lot of modular elements that we could remix, customize, and play with depending on the context.

I think what we hoped the visuals would communicate is that type in the Philippines is alive, evolving, and a little bit messy in the best way. It’s not precious or rigid. It borrows from digital culture, collage, and everyday visuals, while still being deeply rooted in craft. That balance felt right for where the community is at right now.

Every creative community starts small. What did you intentionally do to make people feel connected, not just gathered in the same venue?

We were very aware early on that simply putting people in the same room doesn’t automatically create a sense of connection. A lot of it came down to being intentional about how people moved through the space and how they encountered each other throughout the day.

We made sure there were plenty of moments that encouraged lingering rather than rushing. Things like the type exhibit, the library, the type trade activity—these were designed to invite conversation. You didn’t have to be an expert to participate. You could just look, ask questions, sit with something for a while, and that already gave people an entry point.

We also tried to keep the scale and tone approachable. Speakers were present and accessible, organizers were visible. A lot of the conversations that mattered most happened in between formal programming, during breaks, while flipping through books, or while waiting in line for something.

I think what helped most was remembering what it feels like to attend events yourself. We tried to design the fair in a way that reduced intimidation and made it okay to show up curious rather than confident. If people left having met even just one person, or feeling a little less alone in their interest in type, that already felt like a win.

After all the planning, workshops, and lectures, was there a moment when you could finally pause and take it all in? When did that sense of relief and accomplishment hit you?

For me, it came later, during egress and then again during our debriefing. Those were the first moments where things finally slowed down enough for us to sit, talk, and process what had just happened.

Being able to replay the day together in a quieter, more relaxed space made everything feel real. It wasn’t so much a single big wave of relief, but a gradual one. That was when the sense of accomplishment settled in, once the noise had faded and it was just us organizers reflecting on how the day unfolded.

What were you most excited to see come to life at the fair this year?

I was especially excited to see the type library and the talks come to life!

When I was starting out in type design (ten years ago!!!), books were incredibly hard to come by locally. Accessing them often meant asking someone to bring one home from abroad or saving up for something that felt wildly expensive at the time. While it’s a bit easier now, owning type books is still a privilege. We wanted to create a space where people could slow down, browse, and spend time with these materials without the pressure of having to buy them. Seeing people actually sit down, flip through pages, and linger there felt really meaningful to me.

The talks were another big highlight. We were all so proud of this year’s lineup. Kristian Henson opened the program with a talk on Tropical Gothic, which explored climate, history, and ornament through a distinctly Philippine lens. Noel Layon Flores shared his work on world-building in the context of Philippine entertainment, and how his research on Philippine scripts played a part in it. Myka Arnado shared her personal practice, taking us through client briefs, ideation, and works-in-progress, to the final execution. We also had our first overseas speaker, Sueh Li Tan, who shared her custom type projects and insights from her type practice and research in Malaysia, offering a broader Southeast Asian perspective that resonated deeply with the audience.

Closing remarks came from Lucille Tenazas, who is such an important figure in Philippine design. Ending the day with her reflections felt both grounding and generous, like a reminder of where we’ve come from and the responsibility of carrying the work forward.

You wear many hats: designer, organizer, teacher, advocate: How do these roles influence each other, and how has your design work informed the spaces and opportunities you create for others? What drew you to building communities like this, and where do you see it going next?

I think it’s important to say that I never really set out to do community building in a deliberate or strategic way. I didn’t wake up one day thinking, “This is the role I want to take on.” I just found myself responding to a need that was very obvious to me at the time, and along the way, I was lucky to meet people who felt the same pull and were willing to carry the weight of it together.

Wearing many hats wasn’t a conscious choice either. It became necessary because these things don’t run on one skill alone. All of those roles bleed into each other, and over time they’ve shaped how I approach both my practice and the spaces I help create.

I don’t see these efforts as something I’m building for others, but something we’re trying to sustain with others. My hope is that people who find themselves in similar positions, or who feel the same sense of responsibility, eventually step in and help carry it forward. If this is going to last, it can’t rest on just a few people. Ideally, it becomes something shared, something that evolves, and something that outlives any one role I happen to play at a given time.

Be sure to follow Jo on Instagram @aniciaclean. Check out her recorded lecture From Struggle to Strength, presented as part of the Type Electives’ Fall 2023 virtual lecture series, for a deeper dive into how her own struggles accessing type design education in the Philippines inspired her to support other local designers in their path. You can get involved with her work at Type63 and Type Fair PH, or explore her portfolio at jomalinis.com.