In the Richmond of 2005, Teddy Blanks was everywhere—playing packed shows with Ross Harman as the pop duo The Gaskets, writing sharp film reviews and interviews for the early issues of RVA Magazine, and even acting in a short film that, for me, still holds personal weight. He brought with him the energy of a dance party, a quick mind, great conversation, and a sense that whatever you were working on could be more fun and more interesting if he was involved.
After moving to New York, Teddy quietly built a career that now spans more than fifteen years of title design and visual work across film, television, and digital media. His fingerprints are on some of the most recognizable film and television projects of the last decade, creating title treatments and typography for directors like Lena Dunham, Greta Gerwig, Ari Aster, Ben Stiller, Todd Haynes, Robert Eggers, and others. He was profiled in The New York Times this past winter, and he took home an Emmy for his collaboration on the Season 1 titles of Severance.
To mark both Teddy’s body of work and RVA Magazine’s 20th anniversary this past weekend, I caught up with him to talk about his process, how Richmond still shapes his story, and the quiet power of type in visual storytelling.
Todd Raviotta: What is your all-time favorite title treatment for a film?
Teddy Blanks: Honestly, there isn’t a single favorite. Assuming we’re talking about main title treatments—not full title sequences—and ignoring how they appear in the context of the film, here are a few that come to mind right away:
Pablo Ferro’s hand-drawn title for Stop Making Sense (the best of his many handwritten titles, in my opinion); Nina Saxon’s chrome logo for Back to the Future; Dan Perri’s iconic Star Wars logo; Neil Kellerhouse’s sharp and steely treatment for The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo; Michael Doret’s diamond-shaped Zardoz logo; Saskia Marka’s beautiful work for Babylon Berlin; and countless hand-painted titles from the ’30s and ’40s, whose designers often went uncredited.
I could go on, but I suspect you have other things you’d like to ask me.
T-Rav: Did you go to VCU for design? Who taught you your love of fonts?
TB: I did, and it was an invaluable experience. It’s not necessary to go to school for graphic design to do it for a living—my partner at CHIPS, Adam, didn’t study design, and he’s the best designer I know—but I count myself lucky every day that I grew up 35 minutes from one of the best graphic design programs in the country.
Jon Malinowski taught me about seeing a design project through from beginning to end with an actual client. Noah Scalin showed me the political implications of design. Most importantly, Rob Carter and Sandra Wheeler taught typography. They didn’t teach me to love fonts; they taught me how to use them. The history of the craft, developing personal taste, and a thorough, precise understanding of typography and layout—they drilled it all into my brain.
And you can’t break the rules successfully until you know them. So much student work today is full of energy and ideas but lacks fundamentals. I always think, if they only had class with Rob and Sandy…
T-Rav: In 2005, when RVA was in its first year, you wrote as the magazine’s first film critic. Did any moment during that time indicate the direction your career would take?
TB: Writing for the magazine was so much fun, and I sort of couldn’t believe they let me do it. I’m sure I’d cringe if I read any of those old reviews now. While studying design at VCU, I was getting deeper into film. At some point, I remember telling a professor, “I think I might want to do film titles.” It felt like an achievable way to participate in filmmaking while merging two core interests.
But at the time, I was also focused on my band, The Gaskets. Even though I was developing the knowledge and skills that would shape my career, it all seemed to be happening in the background.
T-Rav: When we made At the River that summer in 2005, you mentioned wanting to design movie titles—and it stuck with me. Then, a few years later, your Tiny Furniture collaboration with Lena Dunham sparked a creative path that’s been amazing to watch. How did Richmond’s creative community lead you to New York’s creative community?
TB: Huh! I guess I was talking about title design more widely than I remember. Richmond’s creative community led almost directly to New York’s, mostly through my close friend Isabel Halley, who studied painting at VCU and now makes and sells incredible hand-pinched ceramics.
She dated Ross, my bandmate and roommate, and then Igor, The Gaskets’ manager—both briefly—but became a lifelong friend. She grew up in downtown New York and introduced me to a whole world of New York kids, Lena among them.
Richmond people still pop up in my creative life. I’ve done small projects with Dash Shaw (with whom I shared an on-screen kiss in At the River)—scoring one of his shorts, helping with a poster title treatment for Cryptozoo.
One of the wildest connections was meeting Dean Fleischer-Camp, director of Marcel the Shell and the upcoming live-action Lilo & Stitch. We met in L.A. in 2013 while I was laying out a Marcel the Shell children’s book. He told me we had actually met before: he grew up in Richmond and, in 2003, was the runner-up in a comedy contest that The Gaskets won. The prize? Opening for Weird Al at King’s Dominion.
Small world.
T-Rav: What was the path from indie films to the major studio projects of the past several years?
TB: If there’s a “major studio era” for me, it’s only just begun. And you never really know if a film will resonate culturally or just be forgotten.
The path from indie to studio was long and mostly based on luck. Hitching my wagon to great directors who brought me along as they rose helped—Barbie doesn’t happen without Lady Bird. Loyalty from post-production supervisors also played a huge role—Jeffrey Penman, Paul Levin, Rachel Jablin, Alexis Wiscomb, and others. They run the post process and actually hire title designers.
Alexis invited me to pitch In the Heights to Jon M. Chu despite my lack of big-budget experience. Wicked wouldn’t have happened without her belief in me.
And then there’s a boring but crucial factor: the New York State Film & TV tax credit. Many productions hire New York-based vendors to qualify, which has benefited me just by staying on the East Coast.
Still, indie films remain important. I make sure to take on a few small projects each year. There’s so much new filmmaking talent, and I want to stay connected to it.
Wicked titles designed by Teddy Blanks, photos by Todd Raviotta
T-Rav: What’s the short story of CHIPS’ founding? What does the future look like?
TB: After VCU, I moved to New York. My friend and classmate Grier helped me get a job at a studio making Flash websites. Less than a year later, I got the opportunity to work at Winterhouse, a studio in Connecticut run by veteran designers Jessica Helfand and Bill Drenttel. That’s where I learned everything about running a small studio, working with clients, and being intentional about the work I wanted to do.
Jessica and Bill were like my “design parents.” Bill passed away in 2013, but Jessica remains a close friend and mentor.
After leaving Winterhouse and moving back to New York, I struggled to find a job in the post-crash economy. Meanwhile, Adam Squires and Dan Shields—both working at The Met—had an LLC and some freelance clients. In 2009, we decided to merge our work under one roof. Adam quit his job, we moved in together, and took the leap. Dan joined full-time a year later. In 2012, we got an office, and we’re still there today.
As for the future? Who knows! We have a good thing going, staying small and working on projects that excite us. That’s the goal.
T-Rav: I use Art of the Title to teach my students about Saul Bass and Pablo Ferro. I remember, after seeing Lady Bird, sitting in the theater and thinking, “I wonder if Teddy worked on this.” When the end credits rolled, I was astounded to see it was your work. I searched for you and found you on the site. Was that a big moment for you, having your work featured in that database?
TB: It’s such an incredible resource. I think the first project of mine they covered was Ping Pong Summer—I was so thrilled for that recognition.
T-Rav: Are you strictly focused on fonts in your design work for posters and title sequences, or does it extend beyond that?
TB: Most of my film title work is static and type-focused, but I’m pretty adept with After Effects and have created several animated sequences. They tend not to be CGI bonanzas—I usually like to give them an analog or handmade feel. But animation takes a long time, so I can only take on a few projects per year.
A couple of favorites are the openings for Mozart in the Jungle seasons 2 and 4, and the end sequence I just made for the final episode of Severance season 2. I’m currently working on a title sequence for a horror sequel I’m really excited about, but I can’t share any details.
Nosferatu titles designed by Teddy Blanks, photos by Todd Raviotta
T-Rav: It was fascinating to read about the level of typography work involved in Nerve and the back-and-forth with the editing team. When designing for films like Barbie, Wicked, and Nosferatu, what’s the process of getting your designs from your desk into the final edit?
TB: I work closely with the editorial team—the editor and their assistants—sending work back and forth, either as static transparent TIFF files or QuickTimes if it’s an animated sequence. We review and discuss timing with them and the director. During the edit, I deliver everything at HD or UHD (the TV version of 4K).
Once the titles are locked, I re-render them at the finishing size—usually some version of 4K, sized to the film’s aspect ratio—and deliver them to the post-production facility, where they’re composited in during color correction. The technical side of the job was the hardest for me to learn, but it’s crucial.
I still make mistakes—saving things at the wrong size or codec—but I’m getting better every day. I still don’t fully understand color spaces, to the annoyance of many colorists.
T-Rav: How do you search for fonts? Are you a printed catalog person, or do you scroll through digital databases?
TB: I have a robust collection of digital fonts and a growing library of old type specimen books. I also spend hours on the Internet Archive looking at scanned books—it’s an invaluable resource.
I try to get off the computer as much as possible when researching type. I visit The Poster House museum, The Herb Lubalin Center at Cooper Union, The Watson Library at the Met, or just watch old movies. And increasingly, I’m making my own fonts—trying to create something truly unique for each project if I can.
T-Rav: Have you published your font designs for others to use? Is there a Teddy Blanks collection out there?
TB: I’d be way too embarrassed to release them publicly. One of the beautiful things about designing a font specifically for a film title is that I’m the only one using it. That means I don’t have to draw letters, numbers, or punctuation that aren’t actually in the titles.
And because I’m setting the type myself, I don’t have to build out kerning pairs or make sure the spacing is perfect. Sometimes I don’t even make a font file—I just create an alphabet and manually arrange the letters. Plus, nobody sees my vector files, which are probably full of mistakes. The fonts only have to look good in the context of the movie—as a single rasterized graphic at whatever size they appear.
The one exception is Barbie Swash, which I did build into a proper font because Warner Bros. needed it for marketing. It actually is available online because it leaked somehow. Not by me! (And I won’t link to it—people can hunt for it if they want.)
Barbie titles designed by Teddy Blanks, photos by Todd Raviotta
T-Rav: What are some of your favorite short works from The Spielbergs?
TB: I’m most proud of Oh Jerome, No, the series we made for FXX’s late-night short-form showcase CAKE. It’s now available on Hulu as a standalone show.
T-Rav: Is there new work brewing in the directing realm?
TB: Alex Karpovsky (my writing and directing partner) and I are still very close, but after a string of TV pilots that didn’t get picked up, we’re taking a break. He just shot an indie feature in Mexico, and I’ve read the script—it’s great. I do hope to work with him again, but I’d also like to direct something on my own someday. I just need to come up with the idea first.
T-Rav: Your solo album is called Therapy, and the Shrink project revolves around that theme. Do you have any thoughts on therapy as a practice or discipline?
TB: I was only in therapy briefly, for a few years after Ross died. But I’m fascinated by the idea that you can improve your mental and emotional state just by talking about your problems—and how that concept has led to so many disciplines, movements, religions, and even cults.
Now, people are in therapy with AI chatbots on their phones, and therapy terminology has permeated our personal relationships. I’m interested in it.
Every few years, I re-read Janet Malcolm’s Psychoanalysis: The Impossible Profession and In The Freud Archives. I’m also drawn to R.D. Laing—one of the great weirdo figures in psychotherapy. His ideas about mental illness are probably wrong, but they’re still exciting to think about.
T-Rav: It was great to find your 2013 album—I missed hearing your voice after having The Gaskets’ songs etched into my brain in the early 2000s. Are there any new music projects on the horizon?
TB: Yes! I guess this is a good time to announce that I’m finishing a new album now—my first batch of songs in over a decade. It’s currently being mixed.
I recorded it at Spacebomb Studios with an incredible group of Richmond-based musicians—Pinson Chanselle, Cameron Ralston, and Alan Good Parker. It was produced by my old friend James Wallace, who records as Skyway Man. He also went to VCU.
I hope to release it later this year.
Find more information about Teddy Blanks work HERE.
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