Different strokes for different folks? How calligraphy skills are fading
In this day of keyboards and computers, I asked two people recently if they hand write Chinese characters on a regular basis anymore.
One woman replied "no," though she said she believes in the saying that "the palest ink is better than the best memory." She admitted she occasionally takes lecture notes by hand.
Then I asked a physician the same question. It appears that doctors, once known for their boldly cursive, convoluted handwritten prescriptions, are now required to type their diagnoses and prescriptions, and print them out.
Calligraphy is an art form, but well-written characters are becoming a lost art amid the public at large.
I am heartened to learn that some schoolteachers are required to produce their lesson plans manually, rather than electronically.
There's a Chinese saying that goes: tibi wangzi, or "picking up a pen or pencil but not producing any words." It used to refer to old age, but in this digital age, it seems to reflect the habits of people of all ages and walks of life.
English speakers write words based on their pronunciation, but we Chinese have an ideographic system independent of the sound of words.
The highest form of classical writing, the wenyan wen, is still admired for its elegance and expressiveness, despite deviations from the vernacular of millennia ago.
Unlike with Western languages, where there is increasing acceptance of the descriptive versus prescriptive approach to grammar and diction, correct Chinese usage tends to be based on the prescriptive approach. In other words, how language should be used, not how it is being used.
That's why the esoteric, antiquated works of classical writers still constitute an important part of Chinese education.
Appropriately, the Chinese have developed an almost uncanny reverence to those with excellent calligraphy.
Some years ago, I was working under a supervisor whom I secretly disliked, but my respect for him soared one day when he beautifully wrote his name out for me by hand.
At the other extreme, a university instructor once gifted me with a copy of his published work and then penned a courtesy inscription. His writing was atrocious, and I was seized with pity for him.
Some people used to lament that Chinese storefronts and signs are invariably written with printed characters, while handwritten signs are still much in evidence on the streets of some countries in East Asia.
I find myself ambivalent about this issue today. Do we still have a sufficient pool of calligraphers whose writing is presentable?
Given how much we can read from handwritten characters, I am surprised that human resources personnel should continue to be happy with fancy, typed resumes. Asking an applicant to write a short note would certainly tell them a lot about a candidate.
Unlike English writers who began using typewriters long ago, carefully brought up Chinese writers still have a deep-seated skepticism toward standardized characters.
Computers have infinitely changed how we produce Chinese characters, even more than English. In English, you still need to spell out each word, while in Chinese the prevailing input system just asks you to produce the initial consonants in pinyin to elicit a whole phrase, without being bothered about the intricacies of actual strokes.
We should encourage more people to handwrite characters, but the situation is not encouraging.
People are spending more and more time watching short videos. If these videos are scripted at all, they are often full of ridiculous mistakes. But who pays attention to such trifles when you can swipe the screen and move onto the next video?
The French set up the prestigious Académie Française in 1635 to set standards of grammar, spelling and literature to maintain the purity of the language. Maybe China needs a similar oversight body to preserve the beauty of our written language.
