Calligraphy is a kind of music not for the ears, but for the eyes.
V. Lazursky

Once upon a time, most of my artistic output was as a calligrapher, using the medium to create both fine art and in practical applications. Now, once upon a year, I return to the Land of Calligraphy, on the Isle of Italic, surrounded by the Sea of Ink. There I complete Certificates of Completion for the special needs adults at a school where my husband teaches. This year, as I bent to my task, it occurred to me that lessons learned from the end of the nib have parallels in other parts of life. Here are five life lessons that came to mind:

Things Take More Time Than You Think

There were only 11 certificates to complete, first and last names. I was certain that the task would be accomplished quickly. Still it took me a good three-four hours to finish. Howsacome? as Dad likes to say. Because the task was not only about the actual writing but also included the gathering of supplies, setting up the work station (the importance explained in a previous post, Everybody, Let’s Mise-en-Place!), doing the rough drafts, double checking the final product, and so on.

It seems to me that every project, in and out of the studio, always takes more time than first envisioned. When I am honest about that, I can give myself enough time (read: DO NOT WAIT UNTIL THE LAST MINUTE), so as not to feel frantic and rushed. So let’s do ourselves a favor and be realistic about the time needed, and then double it. After all, I don’t remember ever saying, “Whoa, I have way too much time for this project!”

Be in the Present Moment

When you are in the Zen of scribing, your attention is on the letter you are writing, the word you are composing, the stroke, the spring to the serif, the pressure of the pen on paper, the ink that rests on the nib. I have found that the only additional input that I can negotiate is listening to classical music. In fact, once when I was listening to an audio book I started transcribing the story I was listening to rather than the text I was copying. Oy vey!

To be in the present moment, at the easel, in the studio, home with kith and kin, elevates the ordinary to the sacramental. Sure it’s not an easy task, especially for those of us operating under the illusion that we can multitask. Still, as we scribe, so we thrive. At least that’s the official word.

Ink Happens

Plan, plan and plan some more–mix the ink to the right consistency, clean the pen, rule the paper, practice the font. Still, in spite of all, sometimes ink happens and the inkwell spills, usually when you are almost done, and then, gasp, the moment of horror when your realize all is naught, zip, zero, nada.

Oh jeez, is that not a metaphor for those times in our life, artistic or otherwise, when the Muse, in a fit of mischief, places us in such a state. We are then presented with the challenge: give up or go on. You know how we are my friend; we sigh, cry, clean up and solider on. So, hand me a clean piece of paper. Let’s make this happen!

There Ain’t No Eraser, Baby

You might find that your letter forms are not spot on and the lines of text are not entirely straight. The materials used in calligraphy are often indelible, and cannot be removed, or in some cases, even covered up. In other words, not every undertaking will be perfect and you are going need to deal with unerasable mistakes. Sometimes you can rethink a splotch (“Does this look like a bird? A little bird picture would be good here, right?”), adapt a misplaced mark (“That letter “p” just needs an extra curly-q to make it look okay.”), or worst case, you may need to start over (“Oops, I just wrote “Bib” instead of “Bob”! Do you think Bob will really mind if I change his name?”).

It is glorious when everything clickety-clacks along, but when things happen that can’t be undone, on the page or in life, identify what can be fixed, or figure how you can adapt the mistake, or recognize the need to discard and begin anew.

Above all, don’t be concerned about getting it all perfect; that’s never going to happen. Trust me, you can relax and let that worry go.

Find the Rhythm in the Black and White

There is beautiful rhythm that occurs when the white space between and within the letters are in balance with the black shapes of the letter form. A tilt in either direction throws things off-balance. Think in terms of black/white, yin/yang, light/shadow, you need the balance of both for wholeness. Balance is my biggest challenge in life, balancing my studio practice with the business portion of art; walking the middle way of commitments to family and friends and the need to create; maintaining the poise between work and recreation. In other words, finding equilibrium and harmony and a sense of centeredness in the daily dealings of life.

So that’s it, my lessons learned this week, found at the end of the pen nib. Maybe later I’ll share the lessons learned while running a race, just as soon as I clean up this ink spill.

This Week in the Studio

A great week in the studio, feeling productive.

I have begun a new painting, 20 x 30 inches, oil on board, title TBD. This is a new direction and it will be interesting to watch where this takes me. Here is the background with the words Minnin, Munin and Hugin (Thought, Memory, Desire):

I also was able to oil-out one of the self portraits, one of my favorite steps in painting, and I am pleased with the results. Once dry, I’ll deliver it to the photographer for it’s “official” photograph and share it with you then.

Speaking of self portraits, I’m back to the Mondrian pair, repainted the red rectangles (already repainted the other colors). Next will be to touch up the black grid, let them dry and then oil out the canvas.

Finally, I got another rondo, the ammonite (spiral shell), fairly completed.

Whew.