Sunday, May 27, 2012

The Tortoise and the Hare

I took a calligraphy workshop yesterday, and I learned a little more than I bargained for. I thought it would be a good skill to have--I have pretty good handwriting to start with, but I thought this might be useful if I wanted to make a 'nice copy' of one of my poems for a birthday card or whatever. I have always loved the look of elegant writing. I have always loved pen and ink and paper--as the contents of my supply closet will attest. So I signed up for a three hour introduction to pointed-pen calligraphy.

I am NOT going to go into the mechanics or a list of materials or try to explain what we learned...sorry, you'll just have to pony up for the class, or come visit me for a 'show and tell'. Let me just say, though, that I was not as apt a pupil as I expected to be. And the reason was that I tried to do it too quickly. The beautiful alternation of thick and thin lines, the smooth flow of letters and words, the elaborate capital letters and uniform lower-case...are not to be attained without deliberation and practice. I am not the deliberate sort. And I'm pretty impatient as well.

I therefore found myself vainly trying to slow down and pay attention, to focus on what I was doing, to think and plan ahead for the strokes my pen would make. (Is this sounding familiar?) This is the advice I am constantly giving  myself (and anyone else who might listen) about writing. Focus. Focus. Focus. Pay attention. Think. Observe. Think some more. There will not be a 'gem every time' (Boris and Natasha, from Rocky and Bullwinkle-- a favorite quote: "What you expect? Gem every time?") Nothing of value is achieved without sustained effort and practice, practice, practice.

And so, what I learned from my class is this: what I need to learn before I can produce that wonderful script is what I have needed to learn--not just intellectually, but in actuality--all along: to stop and pay attention, to clear away the distractions and focus on what I'm trying to accomplish, to attain a less frenzied pace that allows for observation and thought and the careful formation of lines and connections and boundaries. And beauty. Always beauty.

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