The Carnage of Art

So in February, I took an introductory evening course in calligraphy. The short course just covered the basics, like understanding the characteristics of different nibs, learning how to dip the pen in liquid ink, acquiring the central skill of making thick and thin lines and practising some basic alphabets.

Dipping the pen proved to be a challenge for me. After the first class, I was ink from ass to tea kettle, as the old saying (sort of) goes. It took days for the black ink to finally wash off my hands. Good thing it wasn't red ink or I'd have looked like a serial killer.

In the second class, for reasons unknown to me, my efforts at calligraphic writing produced a loud skritch, skritch, skritch noise that was literally heard throughout the whole classroom. Perhaps I was pressing too hard, I don't know.

One of my coworkers signed up for this class too, which was great because she's fun to be around. She took to calling me "Inky and Scratchy," which I actually thought was quite clever. I certainly butchered enough calligraphy paper to warrant comparison to that violent duo, LOL!