TV shows inspire intense certain kinds of devotion from certain kinds of fans: your sci-fi nerds have Star Trek, Doctor Who and Firefly; for crime drama fans there's The Wire or The Sopranos. But for news and politics junkies, the show-to-end-all-shows is The West Wing, which aired from 1999 to 2006 on NBC. The presidential administration of Jed Bartlett inspires something in its fans – yearning for an idealized American government run by witty and brilliant people, as well as nostalgia for the time when Aaron Sorkin was at his best as a writer and showrunner.  And like all great shows, West Wing has its fans and then its superfans. The latter have worn out their DVDs and bingewatch their favorite arcs over and over again on Netflix. They’ve memorized choice bits of the best dialogue. And, if these superfans are very, very talented, they spend a year and a half (!) obsessively deconstructing and analyzing the elements of specific episode in to create a tour-de-force graphic illustration that puts every other fan to shame.  Meet Jon White, who this week unleashed Seventeen People, based on the on the 18th episode of the second season in which the president begins to tell his staff about a diagnosis of MS. White's site goes into obsessive detail and analysis of the episode's constructions and themes.  Why this episode? More specifically, why not Two Cathedrals (widely accepted as one of the show's best) or Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going To Jail, which is thematically similar to Seventeen People and has the added bonus of a big block of cheese day?  Yeah, Two Cathedrals – it's just sort of looming there, isn't it? This is tricky to answer, because on one hand, Two Cathedrals might actually be a better candidate for visual extrapolation, on account of its geographic spread. You've got the university campus, the rain-drenched drive down Pennsylvania, the Brothers In Arms march through the office; I'm drawing this in my head as I type, and it's exciting.  But on the other hand, because Two Cathedrals is so cinematic, I think its value weakens when you approach it from any side but as an hour of linear, filmed, edited television. That's where it's fun. On the other hand, 17 People is this tangle of plot, chock-full of callbacks and parallels and technocratic details. At that point, neurotically cataloging its details can actually be a fun accompaniment. In fact, you can largely read 17 People’s script and glean a pretty accurate sense of what the filmed version feels like. Two Cathedrals, on the other hand, can only be enjoyed in its native medium. Hell, they won three Emmys for that hour.  (As for Somebody's Going to Emergency, I'd be far too paranoid about getting sued or takedown-noticed by the Eagles.)  There are moments in Aaron Sorkin's other shows that can remind you of a great West Wing, but the elements are never all there. How do you feel about Sports Night and The Newsroom?  When it comes to Sports Night defenders, it's so hard for me to tell where the dividing line is between detached-ironic-contrarianism and honesty. I just don't get it. It's like defending Green despite knowing that Automatic for the People came out a couple years later. I mean, not to reach for the obvious, but – that laugh track. The laugh track. People.  To your larger point, I suppose I'm a Sorkin generalist the way that someone who really likes explosions is a Michael Bay generalist. I'm really just in it for the monologues. Those sweet, sweet monologues. Doesn't matter the ensemble or the series or the film. Just let there be at least one stirring monologue every 12 minutes, and I’ll stick with it.  And as far as non-West Wing favorite episodes: Yes. The pilot of Studio 60 is immaculate. I realize it's hard to suspend disbelief about everything that followed – but, if you can, then my God what a perfect episode. From Judd Hirsch in the beginning to Under Pressure at the end, it's just a total joy.  You told Vox you thought this episode was "better than The Godfather plus Citizen Kane". Are there less artful episodes of West Wing that you love, just as a fan? Or just standalone moments that wouldn't merit a whole treatment like this but you just think are great?  Yes to "standalone moments", but they're probably so common among other West Wing fans as to be cliché. Off the bat, you've got your "Kennison State University speech montage" from season three episode two, which is the television just daring you not to cry. "Rogered but good" from season two episode one is every cynical-politics-follower’s Platonic ideal of how we wished civil servants spoke.  Oh, and the whole last act of Twenty Five, because [spoiler] walks in to [spoiler] and is played by [spoiler] and it’s [expletive]ing great.  There's always a bit of what-if speculation as people consider how the series could have ended if Sorkin had seen it through. I have one friend who thinks Sorkin's original plan was for Zoey not to survive the kidnapping, and he swears it's the only way it makes sense. How do you feel about the post-Sorkin seasons?  By any chance does your friend’s theory involve Zoey having slipped into a time machine, only to find herself a secretary in a 1959 Manhattan advertising firm?  As for judging post-Sorkin West Wing, the all-too-common party line really does make sense: it’s simply a different show. By that measure, it’s easier to lop off the memories of seasons one to four, and accept these three on their own terms. Sam’s gone? Toby’s an international spy? The new Democratic candidate is a walking David Brooks column? Steve Schmidt’s being played by the mom from Home Improvement? Okay, sounds good.  What's the process like for creating a project like this?  One side-effect of having worked for interactive agencies for so long is that you unconsciously internalize the “making a website” process. I turned myself into an (underpaid, underdressed) one-man team. Each step fell into a kind of inverted pyramid from vague/broad/flighty (concepting, writing, IA doodling, IA wireframing) to pragmatic/hands-on/focused (designing, light-tabling, penciling, inking, coloring). The very last step was front-end code, which I feverishly, desperately whipped out in four days, 13 coffees, and a bottle of Bowmore.  I did panic a bit, though, when it came time to restock my supplies. This was the first illustration project I’ve started since Fish & Wildlife’s weird import-ban on kolinsky sable brushes went into effect, so every time I sat down to ink, I prayed that my years-old Winsor-Newton Series 7 wouldn’t disintegrate.  On Twitter, you mentioned having to cut one of the episode's best lines. What else didn't make it in?  The font. I splurged my tax rebate on the desktop version of Harriet, from which I designed 17P's master comps. (For those who haven't already seen it, Harriet is the Aston Martin of high-contrast display serifs. Imagine if Didot and Surveyor produced a love-child from one night of unbridled, lust-enveloped passion.)  Unfortunately, I didn't realize until far too late that Harriet's web-font-hosting service charges its rates not just per traffic-tier, but per style, which for a design like mine is comically beyond budget (or "budget"). So, I ran back into the familiar, welcoming arms of TypeKit (and Freight and Abril with it). Thanks, guys!  The graphic is obviously a hit. Has anyone involved in the show reached out? Have you been flooded with fans?  Yes, two people from the show did each write me a very kind note, which wasn't just unexpected, it was unimaginable to me. I was overjoyed.  The broader public reception has been almost entirely 140-character limited, which makes it tricky to discern between (a) pleasant well-wishing and (b) actual concern for my mental health. Either way, I'm flattered.  What other shows do you enjoy, either on a purely intellectual level like this, or just to relax with?  Well, there's my canon of desert island, take-a-bullet-for-them, eternally beloved shows: The Larry Sanders Show, Mystery Science Theater 3000, Police Squad!, and – reigning above all, the holy grail of television – James Burke's one-two punch of Connections and The Day The Universe Changed, which I've watched nearly to the point of memorization. And while it's – odd? creepy? – for an adult to admit, I still have yet to outgrow my affection for Beakman's World. When it comes to non-condescending, richly-produced, genuinely-entertaining showcases for translating hard stuff into a palatable form, I still think it's peerless.  For purely end-of-day, exhausted, brain-shutdown catharsis, I’ll hit either C-Span's BookTV tapings or Olbermann's ESPN rants.  As Jed Bartlet would say: what's next?  Despite how cringe-inducingly, insufferably #humblebrag as this answer sounds: running. Or, rather, reclaiming the running schedule that I'd postponed in favor of drawing isometric projections of Josh Lyman.  But I'll be drawing all the same. I can say with confidence that my next project will be both (1) visual and (2) explanatory. By this point, I've identified the component parts of what it'll be; I just haven't calcified the form yet. Fortunately, running makes for an awfully effective think-tank in which to figure that out.  • See Jon White's work at seventeenpeople.com
Designer Jon White tells us why he spent 18 months creating a site to explain 17 People, his favourite hour of television