Engineered Slop Appeal

As I sit down and type, I have just returned from my first kanji lesson. This morning I was invited to sit in on Vice Principal Mochizuki’s calligraphy class with the 7th grade students. I started out by writing my name in Katakana. Ms. Hanamura, my tutor for the class, laid my name out on a sheet of paper so that I may use it as a guide. I went through seven or eight sheets practicing my stroke order and brush control.

I might as well had used a magic marker. My quickly scrawled Japanese John Hancock looked dull and malnourished when compared to the juicy lines of what I was trying to emulate. Ms. Hanamura and Mr. Mochizuki determined my best piece and placed it aside. Before tackling the next word, I wandered the room to see how the students were fairing. The word of the day that I would shortly join them in practicing was “dream.” The first thing I noticed was the speed, or lack of it, with which they moved. I understood that we were practicing writing, and so I wrote quickly. My results were ugly. What they were doing was closer to drawing.

I set to work on “dream.” The word comes in two vertically stacked parts, the first in nine strokes and the second in seven. I slowed down for this round, and plumped up my lines. This time they were thick. Too thick. There was no variation. Thick lines complimenting thick lines insults the art of Kanji. My fat little dream stared up at me, wanting a Snickers bar. A few more passes, and things improved. Seems more esthetic than practical, but I would like to learn more Kanji.

What struck me the most was the control. Not just of the brush, but the whole outcome. Every shift and shuffle of the brush is an intentional move. The contact when it first engages the paper is angled just right. Pressure is lifted then reapplied and the stroke thins and thickens accordingly. And to finish, the stroke slowly trails off, immediately lifts, or thickens and then cuts to a sharp point. The last one is lovely and most difficult for me. Each of the motions is practiced, the final result being organic, flowing, and casual.

The casual presentation is in truth completely intentional. It is like the model with a hairstyle that looks fresh off the pillow, but we all know a world class stylist spent a great deal of time to primp it just so. The manufactured natural look.

Regardless of the language, I have always been a fan of the unique traits that appear in writing. A flick of the wrist and pen or brush trails off. Too much ink and you get a bulge or drip. The beauty is born of those fine serendipitous details that occur. But here, where such unteachable things are taught, we learn a uniform uniqueness. It is said of Japan, that the nail who sticks up shall be hammered back down.

So then it is okay to draw outside the lines, just so long as that is the way you were taught…