Master and Materialities: Amir Mahdi Moslehi and the Anatomy of Nastaaliq
The mark of a successful typeface lies in its ability to be processed automatically/automatic comprehension by its users. This means letterforms must be designed to be comprehensive, legible, simple and most importantly, usable amongst those who speak, read and write the language it serves. For Latin script users, this seamless interaction is default: a privilege embedded into the architecture of computing systems, which have been fundamentally built around Latin letterforms. In contrast, users of writing systems outside the Latin script must assimilate to the minimal provision of non-Latin typefaces that are oversimplified and reductive in their form. Perhaps this reveals a bias encoded in our digital environments, as our software, type design and coding environments have failed to read, recognise and understand the nuance present within differing linguistic systems.
The structural constraint becomes especially evident in the scarcity of digital typefaces derived from traditional scripts such as Nastaaliq – an important typeface for Arabic, Persian and Urdu readers, speakers and writers. Originated in 15th Century Iran, the typeface, famously known as the “bride of calligraphy” for its graceful and intricate form, was created for aesthetic and artistic use. It became a beloved style for Islamic, literary and poetic matters across Southwest Asia. The script’s fluid and harmonious character (or oftentimes described as its ‘spirit’) imbues it with a naturally pleasant quality for whoever gazes upon it However, it is precisely this unique structural logic that makes Nastaaliq difficult to digitise. Atefeh Mohammadi, Tooba Shahriar, Sareh Malaki identified that the calligraphic foundation of Nastaaliq clashes with the rigid, modular principles of typeface design. Amir Mahdi Moslehi critiques the dissonance of the earlier attempts of Nastaaliq iterations: “We cannot consider them a typographic project, because its creation was initiated by a software engineer that wanted to create and digitise a Nastaaliq font out of available calligraphic sketches without the implementation of foundational typographic principles.”
Recognising the importance of materiality — across calligraphy and typography — is essential for the proper design and digitisation of Nastaaliq. Amir Mahdi Moslehi, having been trained as a calligrapher, was uniquely positioned to undertake this monumental task and develop his own distinct interpretation of the script. His entry into type design began from a childhood hobby of forgery, where the practice of redrawing letters and shapes nurtured an embodied understanding of compositions and forms. Encouraged by his teacher, Amir pursued calligraphy throughout his years in school and eventually led to his personal reckoning of his “talent” and its deeper potential. This eventually led to his decision to study architecture in university, where he eventually began his foray into graphic design. Through experimentation and commission-based projects, Amir built his foundation to cultivate a ‘concrete’ understanding of design principles– bridging the precision of architectural thinking with the fluidity of the calligraphic form. For Amir, calligraphy and design were not distinct disciplines but are a continuation of one another. When asked about their relationship, he claimed that they “make sense”.
Over the past few years of his graphic design practice, Amir had undertaken his own personal project of collecting Nastaaliq letters which led to the creation of his first typeface called “Mirza”, suitable across Arabic, Persian and Urdu languages. “I decided to make a concrete project and revise and redesign all its characters because I couldn’t find the harmony between the characters,” he shared. Mirza was created based on the hand of Mirza Gholam-Reza Esfahani, and the finished typeface was an extensive study of the ‘best specimens’ of Mirza’s work produced during the last decades of his life. “It’s not about relying on the tools of design, but your thought or imagination is pivotal to develop the design and its idea. This project was an attempt towards reimagining and rebuilding letters that are aligned with the harmony of the letters that are traced.” He recalled the design process. The journey to translate the legacies of Nastaaliq demanded Amir to build his own relationship to Mirza’s calligraphic work, to which he collected materials and traced all the available letters from these models. After doing so, Amir tried to implement his own design rationale that aligned with the contemporary use of typeface: “I redesigned all the characters that I have designed before and tried to create a framework of Mirza that my sources created in the same age, with the same style and the same size and implement it on the same paper support with the same proportions.” This birthed a Mirza typeface that is more simplified in its use, reflected in the reduction of the set of characters and simplification of its letter connections whilst retaining the aesthetic and signature features of Nastaaliq’s calligraphic form. Amir expressed that the process took more than 5-6 years, and resulted in its positive reception amongst the Iranian public. Eight years after its inception, the Mirza typeface has become amongst one of the primary typefaces of Nastaaliq in Iran, and was used by the Municipality of Tehran in public-facing contexts such as large-scale displays (e.g. billboards and city banners). Beyond public reception, Amir had received positive feedback from calligrapher masters as they claimed that 70% of Nastaaliq’s traditional style was accurately represented in the Mirza typeface.
For Amir, it is important for his typefaces to stay true to its traditional forms (read: calligraphic script). This requires him to understand the contexts of Nastaaliq across Arabic, Persian and Urdu speakers, which I presumed was an organic matter for Amir. Are you able to read, speak and write in the languages that you design? I asked and to which he laughed and shook his head. He confessed: “I cannot speak Urdu or Arabic, but I can confidently distinguish those stylistic preferences across certain writing and calligraphic styles. With this ability, I can frame my project in accordance with the specific target audiences.” This allowed him to grasp the patterns that were present across the Nastaaliq characters across Arabic and Urdu — enough to deduce and determine a system that will inform and embed in their design. To retain the cultural accuracy, Amir conducts extensive research to understand the cultural and historical nuances to understand his audiences, and enables him to design according to their comprehension. How are you able to thread similarities across such distinct cultures? I asked in return. He revealed that his process typically begins from researching the manuscript cultures across these regions: “The key element that helped me engage with the target audience is my knowledge in the history of calligraphy and analytic approach through these stylistic differences. I always start my design project from (this) research.”
This methodology of reading scripts through their visual and cultural logics becomes evident in Amir’s commissioned work. He showed me the design of the “Tlesk”, a typeface developed for music label Tlesk records, where he sought to distil the layered histories of form embedded in regional calligraphy and architecture. Drawing upon the visual parallels between the Ruqah calligraphic style – rooted in the legacy of the Ottoman Empire and commonly used across Iraq, Syria and Lebanon – and the architectural vernacular in Khuzestan, a province in Iran where Arabic is commonly practiced, Amir constructed a contemporary and hybrid typeface. Tlesk supports Arabic, Persian and Urdu languages yet introduces a distinct typographic intervention: all letters are aligned on a horizontal baseline, departing from the traditional cascading flow of Nastaaliq.
Amir’s ability to experiment with calligraphy and typefaces is deeply rooted in an understanding of their materiality. For him, (their) design and practice are not merely technical processes, but conceptual acts that reveal the importance of stylistic expression: “Script is a concept. We have writing styles that function as a visual translation of that concept, where the script’s grammar defines how letters relate to one another: how they join, clash and separate. Throughout the history of script development, we find many calligraphic styles, each containing distinct letterforms that give rise to specific writing styles, and applied differently across various manners and applications.”
He went on to explain that the abstraction of script reveals their malleability across contexts, giving rise to culturally-specific calligraphies: “...Amongst different geographies, we had agency in choosing and picking Arabic elements from Islamic Civilisation and adopted it to our culture and preferences, which had led to the creation of established calligraphic styles that was tailored to each regional’s manuscripts and writing. This story was the same across other countries’ relation with Islamic civilization.” This philosophy was explored through the design and research of Amir’s recent project, “Mehraban”, a typeface collection of scripts across Book Pahlavi, Avestan and Arabic. Developed as part of the Missing Scripts research programme at ANRT, Amir shared that the objective of the project was to design the first typeface for Book Pahlavi and its companions. Amir began this project by tracing back the history of linguistic systems in pre-Islamic Iran and noted that the resource material is scarce: “We do not have any manuscript that is left from that era, but what we have is the manuscript that has been produced by the community of Iranian immigrants – who were Zorostorians – in India. Book Pahlavi became a compilation of surviving manuscripts from that era that dated back to the 14th Century, and became a document for religious purposes.” With limited archival resources, Amir relied on imaginative reconstruction, working closely with a scholar in Oxford University who specialised in Book Pahlavi grammar. This collaboration allowed him to distinguish stylistic nuance and prepare design materials from the surviving (albeit fragmented) manuscript. The resulting Book Pahlavi typeface was conceived as a tool for academic and linguistic research, and positioned as a typographic bridge to facilitate the reading of historical manuscripts and texts from that era.
Building upon this foundation, Amir designed Avestan and Middle Persian counterparts to support the ecosystem of texts. He noted the existence of a distinct Nastaaliq style that differed from the refined aesthetics of its mainstream counterpart: “The quality of the letterforms is not as “delicate” as the mainstream Nastaaliq that is practiced in Iran and Pakistan. In fact, it is the Nastaaliq that belongs to the minority people, where their context of calligraphic development differs since they faced a lot of constraints and difficulties from the lack of financial support. Their goal was simply to record those manuscripts, rather than for aesthetic pleasure in the creation of a delicate letterform. This Nastaaliq was created to survive their community.” Acknowledging the socio-cultural context, Amir designed the Avestan typeface as a fragmented counterpart that completed Book Pahlavi’s connected abjad, and thus, forming a harmonious continuation across the Mehraban collection. This sensibility extended – and was finalised– through the design of its Arabic script that interpolaced the fluid rhythm of mainstream Nastaaliq’s character, drawing upon Amir’s calligraphic roots.
With a portfolio that positions Amir as archivist, designer, and linguist, I couldn’t help but wonder what lay ahead in his journey through type design. Each of Amir’s projects, from Mirza to Mehraban, becomes a meticulous act of re-inscribing these neglected forms into the typographic consciousness, foregrounding the material, cultural, and historical complexities that mainstream design frameworks often overlook. Reflecting on his long-standing dedication, Amir remarked: “I consider myself a missionary of Nastaaliq in the typography world. Dealing with the style of Nastaaliq—the original style of Nastaaliq—from Egypt to Pakistan is my main research interest. I focus on identifying the diverse styles of Nastaaliq and their unique letterforms.”
Amir is currently based in Hamburg, pursuing his PhD on the inscriptions found in Iranian mosque architecture, examining how these forms functioned as instruments of visual propaganda. Beyond his academic research, Amir continues to tend to his ponderings of Nastaaliq and hints at several upcoming projects that are set to be unveiled in the near future. My conversation with Amir rekindled an awareness of the immense responsibility that non-Latin type designers bear: to create access, to preserve cultural legacies, and to shape how language lives and moves within digital spaces. His work is a reminder of the stories embodied in every typeface: becoming a conduit of history, identity, and community. As our digital environments continue to evolve, I’m left wondering how many scripts, stories, and stylistic nuances remain at the margins, waiting for designers like Amir to bring them into view.
