Jim Parkinson — lettering artist, type designer, and painter — died today at his home in Oakland, California, after a long struggle with Alzheimer’s. He is survived by his wife, the book artist Dorothy A. Yule, who was not only his life partner since 2010, but also a dedicated nurse during Jim’s years of dementia.

Born in Oakland on October 23, 1941, Jim grew up across the street from Abraham Lincoln Paulsen, the “Wizard Penman” who could write the Gettysburg Address upside down and backward using only the numeral 2. This was Jim’s first exposure to the craft of lettering, and he immediately fell in love. He learned what he could by collecting lettering manuals and correspondence-school textbooks. His sources were often decades old, but referencing historical styles and making them his own would become Jim’s specialty for the rest of his career.

Jim studied design and painting at the California College of Arts and Crafts. He graduated in 1963, and then moved to Kansas City, Missouri, to join the staff artists at Hallmark Cards. Realizing that “drawing rabbits” was not his strength, the company moved him to the lettering department, where he thrived. Jim soon understood not only that he could carve a professional niche for himself by specializing in lettering; it was also his life’s calling. He had an incredible knack for rendering any kind of letter style by hand. That served him well after returning to Oakland to start a freelance career that would last for more than fifty years.

Although he remained dedicated solely to letters, Jim’s skill set was so broad that he was more than capable of handling just about any kind of job — from logos to complete alphabets. In fact, his career was like several careers in one. Over those five decades, Jim’s letters appeared almost everywhere. He drew headlines for ads, logos for bands (the Doobie Brothers) and the circus (Ringing Brothers and Barnum & Bailey), dozens of custom and retail typefaces, and countless nameplates for magazines (Rolling Stone) and newspapers (the Los Angeles Times). To name these few examples doesn’t do him justice, because he was so prolific. Visit any newsstand in the US — and even some abroad — and you’ll see Jim, often on multiple covers.

Later in life, when Jim wasn’t drawing logos or making fonts, he was painting signs. Not how you think. Jim’s hobby was depicting vintage neon signage as fine art. His photo albums from road trips throughout the American West provided fodder for dozens of large paintings that eventually filled the walls of his home. He captured every peeling surface and broken glass tube in a way that somehow looks even more real than his snapshots.

I was lucky to know Jim over the past twenty years. When I moved to Oakland in 2004, he was one of the first people to connect with me. He welcomed anyone to his home to visit his personal collection of ephemera, type books, and archive of his own work. I relished bringing friends to see Jim, and loved watching their eyes widen as he pulled open flat files filled with original artwork. He was a fixture at our semiregular picnics, where he always radiated joy and wisdom. Jim had a casual silliness that — despite all his talent — kept him from living on a pedestal and looking down on others. He truly lived Margot Fonteyn’s admirable mantra, “Take your work seriously, but never yourself.” You can see that wry levity throughout his website (an enviable domain snagged in the early years of the internet), and the video interview we did in 2010.

As good as he was at making letters, Jim was just as good at telling stories. I’m pleased to say that Letterform Archive will publish his memoir later this year. We’re lucky he put his life into words so that folks who didn’t have the opportunity to meet him can get to know him through his book.

Jim’s family and friends will hold a memorial in the fall. Please feel free to share your memories in comments below, and, in lieu of flowers, consider donating to the Alzheimer’s Association.