Its strang to assert that an exhibition devoid of artworks or artifacts is extraordinary, especially one when lots of mandatory reading is involved. But this is the case with ''Blackletter: Type and National Identity'' at Cooper Union in the East Village. Relying entirely on photostat reproductions, this show sorts out much of the early development of European typefaces, surely one of civilization's most essential, widely used forms of artistry.
On one scale or another, the show is all print: 45 displays of meticulously identified typefaces, script samples, alphabets, print specimen sheets, frontispieces and text pages from books, all tracing the course of blackletter typefaces from Gutenberg to Hitler, and beyond. (The word blackletter preceded the advent of printing, originally referring to the writing of the Middle Ages, in which the whiteness of the page was overpowered by dark, broad-stroked letters.)
In the process the show touches on a great deal: the development of literature, language, publishing and design; the influences of artistic style, fashion and industrialization; and the rise of nations and religions. Crammed with fascinating facts and details, visually punctuated by the repeating, yet constantly changing alphabets, the show can, with concentration, be quite intoxicating.
Along with roman, blackletter is one of the mothers of all Western typefaces. Both descended from Carolingian script, widespread and fairly stable due to the the ninth-century writing reforms of Charlemagne. But blackletter got a head start. Adapted from liturgical calligraphy by Gutenberg for the world's first printing press, blackletter dominated printing until around 1600, when the use of roman started to rise.
By 1900, roman typefaces prevailed everywhere but in German-speaking countries and Scandinavia, where the two strains of typeface continued their centuries-old, often emotionally charged competition. (The exhibition makes this point early on, quoting a letter to Goethe from his mother, begging him to eschew roman typeface, with its connotations of Classicism, and remain true to his German roots by using only blackletter in his books.)
During the Nazi era, Hitler embraced blackletter as authentically ''Volkisch,'' thereby tainting a number of contemporary blackletter typefaces just as several talented German designers were rejuvenating the tradition with modernized versions. Then, in 1941, Hitler abruptly reversed himself, banning blackletter entirely: it was hampering communication with the occupied countries.
Contaminated, then exiled, the blackletter typefaces never recovered. Today, they are visible on diplomas, newspaper nameplates, official documents and wedding invitations. Seen as symbolizing the dark side of things, they are also found on the covers of all kinds of books and rock albums, and, of course, in skinhead and neo-Nazi literature.
The show introduces the four types of blackletter -- textura, rotunda, schwabacher and fraktur -- that sprang up in different parts of Europe in Gutenberg's wake, and immediately started intermingling, and also being renamed according to national inclination: what was Old English in England was Duyts, Flamande or Vlaams in the Low Countries.
There's also some comparative Bible study. Gutenberg's 42-line version is reproduced alongside a print specimen page of the type, which after alternates, ligatures and abbreviations were accounted for, numbered an astounding 300 characters. There is a page from the King James Bible, set in Old English, and one from Martin Luther's 1534 German translation, printed in schwabacher with fraktur headings, except for sections concerning anger and punishment, which were headed in roman. With its publication, the use of blackletter became, like German itself, a form of resistance to papal authority, and was ultimately strongly identified with Protestantism.
The effects of Baroque, Classicizing and Jugendstil tendencies figure in here; so do Albrecht Durer, who designed one of the first modular (noncalligraphic) blackletter alphabets , and William Morris, who designed two blackletter typefaces for use on his Kelmscott Press.
But, for the general public at least, the exhibition introduces a whole new cast of artists, accompanied by ringing judgments. Just a sample: ''Christoffel van Dijck, the first great Dutch punchcutter of roman type, cut a Duyts in 1650 in the style of Henrik van den Keere's Grosse Flamande (1585).''
Throughout, the displays move back and forth in time, showing commercial uses of blackletter (like the circa 1938 advertisement for the first Volkswagen) and present-day incarnations. The display on Old English includes a new derivative, Sabbath Black, designed by Miles Newlyn in Sacramento, Calif., in 1992.
Moving across European history, through dark and light, this show is a kind of tour de force in a teapot. It would make a better book -- and soon will, in a related monograph edited by the organizers of the exhibition, Peter Bain, a typographic designer and Paul Shaw, who teaches typography at the Parsons School of Design. In the meantime, ''Blackletter'' is also available on the Study Center's Web site (www.cooper.edu/ art/lubalin) and the National Graphic Design Image Database at Cooper Union (ngda.cooper.edu).
''Blackletter: Type and National Identity'' remains at the Herb Lubalin Center of Design and Typography at Cooper Union, Seventh Street at Third Avenue, East Village, through May 2.
Photo: An advertisement, circa 1938, for the KdF car, the original Volkswagen. (Cooper Union)