Just a few final thoughts about this subject. I do admire calligraphy. It’s an artwork, of sorts, and seeing a fine piece of copperplate almost inspires me to have a go myself. I say “almost” because I bought the books long ago and tried my very hardest to replicate what I saw on the pages but it was no good. I just couldn’t do it – not properly.
Calligraphy is a peculiar thing. It doesn’t carry anything of the writer’s personality. Maybe it carries something of the person who created the style. I’m not sure what I could compare it to. It’s certainly artistic but it bears no originality. It has to be an exact copy of a style created long ago.
That’s why ordinary handwriting is so much more interesting for me. When I see how the writer creates letter-forms, the size of their writing, the amount of care taken – or not – these things talk to me about the person who has written to me. It’s as much an aspect of who they are as the colour of their eyes or the sound of their voice.
The western type of handwriting is a fascinating thing – as are the other types. It’s a wonderful human creation and it amazes me how I can write at speed without ever having to think about the shape of a letter. My muscles know that. This is probably the last I have to say on the subject but it’s far from being the last to be said. There can never be an end to the wonder of handwriting.
