205TF – Milling

TypefaceMilling

DesignerTanguy Vanlaeys

Release 2024

Fonts In Use

Specimen

Although digital type design is rooted in conventions inherited from punch-cutting, which is based on designing outlines, the history of typography is filled with experiments that seek to challenge this model.

Designed by Tanguy Vanlaeys, the typeface Milling emerges from the CNC-Type research project, initiated in 2017 at the Atelier National de Recherche Typographique (ANRT, Nancy), to explore the specific nature of single-line typefaces and their relationship to Computer Numerical Control (CNC) machining. Unlike traditional typefaces, which require outlines or filled shapes, single-line fonts are distinguished by their uniform lines with no variation in thickness or outline, allowing them to be engraved or cut out by CNC machines with greater speed and precision.

Milling is therefore adapted to numerical machining but in no way limited to this use alone.

The typeface comes in three styles: Simplex, Duplex, and Triplex, with each developed according to an approach centered on the path of the tool. Unlike traditional methods of type design, which involve “sculpting” letterforms, Tanguy Vanlaeys designed the paths that guide the tool’s movement.

For the Simplex style, the thickness of the letters results from a single pass of the machine. In the Duplex and Triplex styles, the initial line is traced side by side two or three times, which allows for increased thickness, added contrast, and optical adjustments.

These three styles are available in several formats: SL, CAD, OT, and TP.

The SL (SingleLine) and CAD (Computer-Aided Design) formats are single-line files intended for CNC machines (see the user guide included in the specimen).

The OT (OpenType) version is designed for more conventional desktop publishing (DTP) use. The addition of outlines to the glyphs—from 0 to 1 mm for the Simplex and Duplex styles, and up to 5 mm for the Triplex style—provides Milling with a range of weights (sometimes pushing the limits of legibility) and a unique design.

The TP (Toolpath) version is also suited for conventional use, displaying the toolpath as contours across three levels.

Milling manages to meet the specific requirements of machining while simultaneously offering graphic designers extensive freedom to experiment across various mediums, including printing, engraving, pen plotting, and even laser cutting.

24 Styles

Simplex

Triplex

Duplex

3 Variables

Simplex

Triplex

Triplex VAR

Sample

Machine The issue of integrating automated processes within different workstations is not raised solely by designers and workers, but also by those who manufacture and improve machines. The esthetic sense of the user of a machine is one thing, but it is still necessary for the machine to be set up to accommodate this sensibility. It is, incidentally, not surprising that, for the past ten years or so, several designers — from Katharina Mischer and Thomas Traxler and The Idea of a Tree (2008), to Francois Brument’s What’s Wind Drawing. (2010), the Unfold Design Studio’s Electronic Artisan (2010), Markus Kayser and his Solar Sinter (2011), or Phil Cuttance and his mechanical Faceture machine (2012) — have set out to invent their own mechanical and or digital machine tools, suggesting, it just so happens, that esthetic and perceptive qualities are being insufficiently taken into account by current inventors of digitally controlled machines and robots. Fablabs and makerspaces are probably the most consummate manifestations of people’s desire to not be told what they have to do by ready-to-use machines. These two types of places represent new manufacturing spaces, where direct interaction with tools is possible in a non-hierarchical way (with each person determining what they do) and from the standpoint of knowledge sharing, in contrast with the models of Taylorism and Fordism. In this sense, fablabs may be thought of as an alternative to industrial automation, favorable to personal and collective fulfilment. Within them, it is not a matter of just imagining an object made by machines, but also of thinking about ways of working, and of designing objects with machines. From this standpoint, “encouraging the fulfilment of the creative possibilities specific to each individual” might turn out to be a fundamental challenge. Consequently, the designer might be Simondon’s “machine man,” who is not totally removed from what he is making — neither just an organizer of the production force, nor an engineer — but the person who sets machines in motion, which is to say the person who esthetically summons them with regard to what is being produced. Walter Benjamin speaks about the cameraman “deeply penetrat[ing] the fabric of given reality,” and “operator” with an emphasis on the Latin root of the word, comparing him to the surgeon who “proceeds to carry out an operation on the body,” in contrast with the magician who keeps his distance. Having a creative relationship with machines is not easy, all the more so because it is often hampered by the machines themselves and by the productive structure of which they are a part. As Anni Albers, a weaver who was trained at the Bauhaus from 1922 on, aptly observes: “While machines reduce the boredom of repetition, and repetitive tasks, on the other hand, they limit the interplay of imagination in the preliminary phase of production. […] No variation, she says, is possible once the production process is under way […]. We see for example that, for a weaver, the foot loom allows for a far greater variety of results than an automatic mechanical loom because, as Luther Hooper puts it, with ‘each stage of mechanical improvement of the loom, as moreover is the case with all machines in varying degrees, the weaver’s freedom and his or her control of the conception of their work is reduced.’” How then are we to act so that the improvement of machinery does not mean a limitation of creative possibilities and the use of machines, but rather, even broader possibilities and uses. By adopting a “creative logic,” where the challenge is not to improve production output but rather to diversify what is obtained, esthetic, structural, functional and ecological associations to what is being produced can develop. So the machine is called upon due to its potential and capacity to give form to matter, summon it, constrain it, and test its flexibility, structure and tactility. The Tricodeur project (2014–2015), based on the meeting between knit design and programming, involves the hacking of an electronic knitting machine. Once “hacked,” this knitting machine, connected to a computer, led to the creation of motifs created with the help of digital algorithms (abstract and personal data visualization media) and the design of a specific font, Tricofont, by Emilie Coquard for weaving small characters and letters. Accessible by a free download on GitHub, the files which are the source of these productions (under the free Creative Commons CC BY-SA license) are open to reproduction and processing. The Tricodeur — which is not unconnected to the history of textiles (i.e. Jacquard looms with their perforated cards), of computer science (in reference to the analytical machine conceived of by mathematician Charles Babbage in 1843), and the Arts and Crafts tradition (by combining social dimension and artistic production) — shows how the transformation of a machine within a system of creative logic may give rise to specific productions for which the esthetic dimensions (knit work), social dimensions (collaborative projects in the form of residencies, workshops and studios) and functional dimensions (differing end purposes: typography, data visualization, experience sharing, artistic output, etc.) lie at the heart of what concerns us. This proposition, which encourages a direct relation to tools involving at once computer, electronic and esthetic skills, illustrates the fact that programming work does not necessarily mean that the creator becomes removed from the machine, but also that the creatively controlled digital machine can produce promising results. An understanding of the way the apparatus works, the identification of its esthetic and productive potential, and the possibilities of intervention and coding enable enough modifications to provide the possibility of creating and testing numerous variations.Machine

Triplex 0mm

Sample

Triplex 3mm

Sample

Optimal Toolpath The issue of integrating automated processes within different workstations is not raised solely by designers and workers, but also by those who manufacture and improve machines. The esthetic sense of the user of a machine is one thing, but it is still necessary for the machine to be set up to accommodate this sensibility. It is, incidentally, not surprising that, for the past ten years or so, several designers — from Katharina Mischer and Thomas Traxler and The Idea of a Tree (2008), to Francois Brument’s What’s Wind Drawing. (2010), the Unfold Design Studio’s Electronic Artisan (2010), Markus Kayser and his Solar Sinter (2011), or Phil Cuttance and his mechanical Faceture machine (2012) — have set out to invent their own mechanical and or digital machine tools, suggesting, it just so happens, that esthetic and perceptive qualities are being insufficiently taken into account by current inventors of digitally controlled machines and robots. Fablabs and makerspaces are probably the most consummate manifestations of people’s desire to not be told what they have to do by ready-to-use machines. These two types of places represent new manufacturing spaces, where direct interaction with tools is possible in a non-hierarchical way (with each person determining what they do) and from the standpoint of knowledge sharing, in contrast with the models of Taylorism and Fordism. In this sense, fablabs may be thought of as an alternative to industrial automation, favorable to personal and collective fulfilment. Within them, it is not a matter of just imagining an object made by machines, but also of thinking about ways of working, and of designing objects with machines. From this standpoint, “encouraging the fulfilment of the creative possibilities specific to each individual” might turn out to be a fundamental challenge. Consequently, the designer might be Simondon’s “machine man,” who is not totally removed from what he is making — neither just an organizer of the production force, nor an engineer — but the person who sets machines in motion, which is to say the person who esthetically summons them with regard to what is being produced. Walter Benjamin speaks about the cameraman “deeply penetrat[ing] the fabric of given reality,” and “operator” with an emphasis on the Latin root of the word, comparing him to the surgeon who “proceeds to carry out an operation on the body,” in contrast with the magician who keeps his distance. Having a creative relationship with machines is not easy, all the more so because it is often hampered by the machines themselves and by the productive structure of which they are a part. As Anni Albers, a weaver who was trained at the Bauhaus from 1922 on, aptly observes: “While machines reduce the boredom of repetition, and repetitive tasks, on the other hand, they limit the interplay of imagination in the preliminary phase of production. […] No variation, she says, is possible once the production process is under way […]. We see for example that, for a weaver, the foot loom allows for a far greater variety of results than an automatic mechanical loom because, as Luther Hooper puts it, with ‘each stage of mechanical improvement of the loom, as moreover is the case with all machines in varying degrees, the weaver’s freedom and his or her control of the conception of their work is reduced.’” How then are we to act so that the improvement of machinery does not mean a limitation of creative possibilities and the use of machines, but rather, even broader possibilities and uses. By adopting a “creative logic,” where the challenge is not to improve production output but rather to diversify what is obtained, esthetic, structural, functional and ecological associations to what is being produced can develop. So the machine is called upon due to its potential and capacity to give form to matter, summon it, constrain it, and test its flexibility, structure and tactility. The Tricodeur project (2014–2015), based on the meeting between knit design and programming, involves the hacking of an electronic knitting machine. Once “hacked,” this knitting machine, connected to a computer, led to the creation of motifs created with the help of digital algorithms (abstract and personal data visualization media) and the design of a specific font, Tricofont, by Emilie Coquard for weaving small characters and letters. Accessible by a free download on GitHub, the files which are the source of these productions (under the free Creative Commons CC BY-SA license) are open to reproduction and processing. The Tricodeur — which is not unconnected to the history of textiles (i.e. Jacquard looms with their perforated cards), of computer science (in reference to the analytical machine conceived of by mathematician Charles Babbage in 1843), and the Arts and Crafts tradition (by combining social dimension and artistic production) — shows how the transformation of a machine within a system of creative logic may give rise to specific productions for which the esthetic dimensions (knit work), social dimensions (collaborative projects in the form of residencies, workshops and studios) and functional dimensions (differing end purposes: typography, data visualization, experience sharing, artistic output, etc.) lie at the heart of what concerns us. This proposition, which encourages a direct relation to tools involving at once computer, electronic and esthetic skills, illustrates the fact that programming work does not necessarily mean that the creator becomes removed from the machine, but also that the creatively controlled digital machine can produce promising results. An understanding of the way the apparatus works, the identification of its esthetic and productive potential, and the possibilities of intervention and coding enable enough modifications to provide the possibility of creating and testing numerous variations.Optimal Toolpath

Triplex 1mm

Sample

The issue of integrating automated processes within different workstations is not raised solely by designers and workers, but also by those who manufacture and improve machines. The esthetic sense of the user of a machine is one thing, but it is still necessary for the machine to be set up to accommodate this sensibility. It is, incidentally, not surprising that, for the past ten years or so, several designers — from Katharina Mischer and Thomas Traxler and The Idea of a Tree (2008), to Francois Brument’s What’s Wind Drawing. (2010), the Unfold Design Studio’s Electronic Artisan (2010), Markus Kayser and his Solar Sinter (2011), or Phil Cuttance and his mechanical Faceture machine (2012) — have set out to invent their own mechanical and or digital machine tools, suggesting, it just so happens, that esthetic and perceptive qualities are being insufficiently taken into account by current inventors of digitally controlled machines and robots. Fablabs and makerspaces are probably the most consummate manifestations of people’s desire to not be told what they have to do by ready-to-use machines. These two types of places represent new manufacturing spaces, where direct interaction with tools is possible in a non-hierarchical way (with each person determining what they do) and from the standpoint of knowledge sharing, in contrast with the models of Taylorism and Fordism. In this sense, fablabs may be thought of as an alternative to industrial automation, favorable to personal and collective fulfilment. Within them, it is not a matter of just imagining an object made by machines, but also of thinking about ways of working, and of designing objects with machines. From this standpoint, “encouraging the fulfilment of the creative possibilities specific to each individual” might turn out to be a fundamental challenge. Consequently, the designer might be Simondon’s “machine man,” who is not totally removed from what he is making — neither just an organizer of the production force, nor an engineer — but the person who sets machines in motion, which is to say the person who esthetically summons them with regard to what is being produced. Walter Benjamin speaks about the cameraman “deeply penetrat[ing] the fabric of given reality,” and “operator” with an emphasis on the Latin root of the word, comparing him to the surgeon who “proceeds to carry out an operation on the body,” in contrast with the magician who keeps his distance. Having a creative relationship with machines is not easy, all the more so because it is often hampered by the machines themselves and by the productive structure of which they are a part. As Anni Albers, a weaver who was trained at the Bauhaus from 1922 on, aptly observes: “While machines reduce the boredom of repetition, and repetitive tasks, on the other hand, they limit the interplay of imagination in the preliminary phase of production. […] No variation, she says, is possible once the production process is under way […]. We see for example that, for a weaver, the foot loom allows for a far greater variety of results than an automatic mechanical loom because, as Luther Hooper puts it, with ‘each stage of mechanical improvement of the loom, as moreover is the case with all machines in varying degrees, the weaver’s freedom and his or her control of the conception of their work is reduced.’” How then are we to act so that the improvement of machinery does not mean a limitation of creative possibilities and the use of machines, but rather, even broader possibilities and uses. By adopting a “creative logic,” where the challenge is not to improve production output but rather to diversify what is obtained, esthetic, structural, functional and ecological associations to what is being produced can develop. So the machine is called upon due to its potential and capacity to give form to matter, summon it, constrain it, and test its flexibility, structure and tactility. The Tricodeur project (2014–2015), based on the meeting between knit design and programming, involves the hacking of an electronic knitting machine. Once “hacked,” this knitting machine, connected to a computer, led to the creation of motifs created with the help of digital algorithms (abstract and personal data visualization media) and the design of a specific font, Tricofont, by Emilie Coquard for weaving small characters and letters. Accessible by a free download on GitHub, the files which are the source of these productions (under the free Creative Commons CC BY-SA license) are open to reproduction and processing. The Tricodeur — which is not unconnected to the history of textiles (i.e. Jacquard looms with their perforated cards), of computer science (in reference to the analytical machine conceived of by mathematician Charles Babbage in 1843), and the Arts and Crafts tradition (by combining social dimension and artistic production) — shows how the transformation of a machine within a system of creative logic may give rise to specific productions for which the esthetic dimensions (knit work), social dimensions (collaborative projects in the form of residencies, workshops and studios) and functional dimensions (differing end purposes: typography, data visualization, experience sharing, artistic output, etc.) lie at the heart of what concerns us. This proposition, which encourages a direct relation to tools involving at once computer, electronic and esthetic skills, illustrates the fact that programming work does not necessarily mean that the creator becomes removed from the machine, but also that the creatively controlled digital machine can produce promising results. An understanding of the way the apparatus works, the identification of its esthetic and productive potential, and the possibilities of intervention and coding enable enough modifications to provide the possibility of creating and testing numerous variations.The

Simplex 0mm

Sample

Multitasking The issue of integrating automated processes within different workstations is not raised solely by designers and workers, but also by those who manufacture and improve machines. The esthetic sense of the user of a machine is one thing, but it is still necessary for the machine to be set up to accommodate this sensibility. It is, incidentally, not surprising that, for the past ten years or so, several designers — from Katharina Mischer and Thomas Traxler and The Idea of a Tree (2008), to Francois Brument’s What’s Wind Drawing. (2010), the Unfold Design Studio’s Electronic Artisan (2010), Markus Kayser and his Solar Sinter (2011), or Phil Cuttance and his mechanical Faceture machine (2012) — have set out to invent their own mechanical and or digital machine tools, suggesting, it just so happens, that esthetic and perceptive qualities are being insufficiently taken into account by current inventors of digitally controlled machines and robots. Fablabs and makerspaces are probably the most consummate manifestations of people’s desire to not be told what they have to do by ready-to-use machines. These two types of places represent new manufacturing spaces, where direct interaction with tools is possible in a non-hierarchical way (with each person determining what they do) and from the standpoint of knowledge sharing, in contrast with the models of Taylorism and Fordism. In this sense, fablabs may be thought of as an alternative to industrial automation, favorable to personal and collective fulfilment. Within them, it is not a matter of just imagining an object made by machines, but also of thinking about ways of working, and of designing objects with machines. From this standpoint, “encouraging the fulfilment of the creative possibilities specific to each individual” might turn out to be a fundamental challenge. Consequently, the designer might be Simondon’s “machine man,” who is not totally removed from what he is making — neither just an organizer of the production force, nor an engineer — but the person who sets machines in motion, which is to say the person who esthetically summons them with regard to what is being produced. Walter Benjamin speaks about the cameraman “deeply penetrat[ing] the fabric of given reality,” and “operator” with an emphasis on the Latin root of the word, comparing him to the surgeon who “proceeds to carry out an operation on the body,” in contrast with the magician who keeps his distance. Having a creative relationship with machines is not easy, all the more so because it is often hampered by the machines themselves and by the productive structure of which they are a part. As Anni Albers, a weaver who was trained at the Bauhaus from 1922 on, aptly observes: “While machines reduce the boredom of repetition, and repetitive tasks, on the other hand, they limit the interplay of imagination in the preliminary phase of production. […] No variation, she says, is possible once the production process is under way […]. We see for example that, for a weaver, the foot loom allows for a far greater variety of results than an automatic mechanical loom because, as Luther Hooper puts it, with ‘each stage of mechanical improvement of the loom, as moreover is the case with all machines in varying degrees, the weaver’s freedom and his or her control of the conception of their work is reduced.’” How then are we to act so that the improvement of machinery does not mean a limitation of creative possibilities and the use of machines, but rather, even broader possibilities and uses. By adopting a “creative logic,” where the challenge is not to improve production output but rather to diversify what is obtained, esthetic, structural, functional and ecological associations to what is being produced can develop. So the machine is called upon due to its potential and capacity to give form to matter, summon it, constrain it, and test its flexibility, structure and tactility. The Tricodeur project (2014–2015), based on the meeting between knit design and programming, involves the hacking of an electronic knitting machine. Once “hacked,” this knitting machine, connected to a computer, led to the creation of motifs created with the help of digital algorithms (abstract and personal data visualization media) and the design of a specific font, Tricofont, by Emilie Coquard for weaving small characters and letters. Accessible by a free download on GitHub, the files which are the source of these productions (under the free Creative Commons CC BY-SA license) are open to reproduction and processing. The Tricodeur — which is not unconnected to the history of textiles (i.e. Jacquard looms with their perforated cards), of computer science (in reference to the analytical machine conceived of by mathematician Charles Babbage in 1843), and the Arts and Crafts tradition (by combining social dimension and artistic production) — shows how the transformation of a machine within a system of creative logic may give rise to specific productions for which the esthetic dimensions (knit work), social dimensions (collaborative projects in the form of residencies, workshops and studios) and functional dimensions (differing end purposes: typography, data visualization, experience sharing, artistic output, etc.) lie at the heart of what concerns us. This proposition, which encourages a direct relation to tools involving at once computer, electronic and esthetic skills, illustrates the fact that programming work does not necessarily mean that the creator becomes removed from the machine, but also that the creatively controlled digital machine can produce promising results. An understanding of the way the apparatus works, the identification of its esthetic and productive potential, and the possibilities of intervention and coding enable enough modifications to provide the possibility of creating and testing numerous variations.Multitasking

Simplex 1mm

Sample

Simplex 0,75mm

Sample

OpenType Features

On Case-Sensitive Forms

CASE

H|¡¿(){}[]«»‹›-–—

On Denominators

DNOM

H0123456789

On Diagonal Fractions

FRAC

1/2 1/4 3/4 1/8 3/8 5/8 7/8

On Numerators

NUMR

H0123456789

On Oldstyle Figures

ONUM

0123456789

On Ordinals

ORDN

1adeglmnorst No no

On Arrows

SS01

--W --E --S --N --SW --NW --NE --SE --NS --WE

On a one storey

SS02

aáăǎâäàāąåã

On f t with stroke

SS03

ftŧťţț

On G without stroke

SS04

GĞǦĜĢĠḠ

On 4 with stroke

SS05

On R with diagonal

SS06

RŔŘŖ

On l with tail

SS07

lĺľļŀł

On t without tail

SS08

tŧťţț

On Thin punctuation

SS10

H|/#-–—_«»‹›

On Dot Dot Dot

SS11

iịįĳj÷.:;…!¡?¿·

On Dot with cross

SS12

iịįĳj÷.:;…!¡?¿·

On Arrows Thin

SS13

↑↗→↘↓↙←↖↤↥↦↧

On Arrows alt

SS14

↑↗→↘↓↙←↖↤↥↦↧

On Subscript

SUBS

H0123456789

On Superscript

SUPS

Hadeglmnorst0123456789

On Tabular Numbers

TNUM

0123456789

On Slashed Zero

ZERO

G00 G01 G02 G03

Character Map

Style

Cap Height2944

X Height2048

Baseline0

Ascender3968

Descender-1152

Basic Latin

(

)

;

[

]

{

}

Latin-1 Supplement

Latin Extended-A

Latin Extended-B

IPA Extensions

Spacing Modifier Letters

Combining Diacritical Marks

Greek and Coptic

Latin Extended Additional

Ḡ

ḡ

Ẁ

ẁ

Ẃ

ẃ

Ẅ

ẅ

Ẽ

ẽ

Ị

ị

Ọ

ọ

Ụ

ụ

Ỳ

ỳ

Ỹ

ỹ

General Punctuation

–

—

‘

’

‚

“

”

„

†

‡

•

…

‰

‹

›

⁄

Superscripts and Subscripts

⁰

⁴

⁵

⁶

⁷

⁸

⁹

₀

₁

₂

₃

₄

₅

₆

₇

₈

₉

Currency Symbols

€

Letterlike Symbols

№

℗

™

Ω

Number Forms

⅛

⅜

⅝

⅞

Arrows

←

↑

→

↓

↔

↕

↖

↗

↘

↙

↤

↥

↦

↧

↩

↪

Mathematical Operators

∂

∅

∆

∏

∑

−

√

∞

∫

≈

≠

≤

≥

⊕

⊖

⊗

⊘

⊠

Miscellaneous Technical

⌀

Geometric Shapes

■

□

▤

▥

▦

▬

▭

▮

▯

▲

△

▶

▷

▼

▽

◀

◁

◆

◊

○

◌

●

◐

◑

◒

◓

◔

◕

◧

◨

◫

◰

◱

◲

◳

Miscellaneous Symbols

☐

☑

☒

⚐

⚑

Dingbats

✳

❤

Supplemental Arrows-B

⤓

Miscellaneous Mathematical Symbols-B

⦶

⦸

⦿

Miscellaneous Symbols and Arrows

⬒

⬓

⬚

⭳

Latin Extended-D

Ꞌ

ꞌ

Alphabetic Presentation Forms

ﬁ

ﬂ

Miscellaneous Symbols and Pictographs

🌐

Geometric Shapes Extended

🞊

🞋

🞔

🞖

Supported Languages

▼

Abenaki
Afaan Oromo
Afar
Afrikaans
Albanian
Alsatian
Amis
Anuta
Aragonese
Aranese
Aromanian
Arrernte
Arvanitic
Asturian
Atayal
Aymara
Azerbaijani
Bashkir
Basque
Belarusian
Bemba
Bikol
Bislama
Bosnian
Breton
Bulgarian Romanization
Cape Verdean
Catalan
Cebuano
Chamorro
Chavacano
Chichewa
Chickasaw
Chinese Pinyin
Cimbrian
Cofan
Cornish
Corsican
Creek
Crimean Tatar
Croatian
Czech
Danish
Dawan
Delaware
Dholuo
Drehu
Dutch
English
Esperanto
Estonian
Faroese
Fijian
Filipino
Finnish
Folkspraak
French
Frisian
Friulian
Gagauz
Galician
Ganda
Genoese
German
Gikuyu
Gooniyandi
Greenlandic
Greenlandic Old Orthography
Guadeloupean
Gwichin
Haitian Creole
Han
Hawaiian
Hiligaynon
Hopi
Hotcak
Hungarian
Icelandic
Ido
Igbo
Ilocano
Indonesian
Interglossa
Interlingua
Irish
Istroromanian
Italian
Jamaican
Javanese
Jerriais
Kaingang
Kala Lagaw Ya
Kapampangan
Kaqchikel
Karakalpak
Karelian
Kashubian
Kikongo
Kinyarwanda
Kiribati
Kirundi
Klingon
Kurdish
Ladin
Latin
Latino Sine
Latvian
Lithuanian
Lojban
Lombard
Low Saxon
Luxembourgish
Maasai
Makhuwa
Malay
Maltese
Manx
Maori
Marquesan
Meglenoromanian
Meriam Mir
Mirandese
Mohawk
Moldovan
Montagnais
Montenegrin
Murrinhpatha
Nagamese Creole
Nahuatl
Ndebele
Neapolitan
Ngiyambaa
Niuean
Noongar
Norwegian
Novial
Occidental
Occitan
Oshiwambo
Ossetian
Palauan
Papiamento
Piedmontese
Polish
Portuguese
Potawatomi
Qeqchi
Quechua
Rarotongan
Romanian
Romansh
Rotokas
Sami Inari
Sami Lule
Sami Northern
Sami Southern
Samoan
Sango
Saramaccan
Sardinian
Scottish Gaelic
Serbian
Seri
Seychellois
Shawnee
Shona
Sicilian
Silesian
Slovak
Slovenian
Slovio
Somali
Sorbian Lower
Sorbian Upper
Sotho Northern
Sotho Southern
Spanish
Sranan
Sundanese
Swahili
Swazi
Swedish
Tagalog
Tahitian
Tetum
Tok Pisin
Tokelauan
Tongan
Tshiluba
Tsonga
Tswana
Tumbuka
Turkish
Turkmen
Tuvaluan
Tzotzil
Ukrainian
Uzbek
Venetian
Vepsian
Volapuk
Voro
Wallisian
Walloon
Waraywaray
Warlpiri
Wayuu
Welsh
Wikmungkan
Wiradjuri
Wolof
Xavante
Xhosa
Yapese
Yindjibarndi
Zapotec
Zazaki
Zulu
Zuni