Picture your grandmother’s handwriting. Whether you’ve conjured up an image of a grocery list, a hand-copied recipe, or a recent birthday card, chances are it is written in a cursive hand. Today the slanted, loopy letters of cursive script come off as quaint – charming, but perhaps a touch outdated. Fewer and fewer youngsters can read their grandmother’s handwriting, let alone replicate it. As students exchange notebooks for techy tablets and pencils for styluses or a keyboard, however, the concept of penmanship as an art is steadily being lost.
Hand-written notes have devolved into typed tweets and texts, and it shouldn’t surprise us that our sense of the meaningful has been reduced to mere information. Both form and meaning of the written word have become grossly scientific, allowing us to read and send countless words each day without encountering many worthy of being considered art.
The familiar adage teaches that “the pen is mightier than the sword.” Consider here some parallels between the arts of penmanship and swordsmanship. Like handling a sword well, penmanship is a combination of skill and style that gives purpose to each word, each gesture. At first, the maneuvers necessary to make graceful and effective movements will be clumsy and taxing, but with practice they will flow naturally. They will be functional as well as beautiful. Penmanship is a “close-combat” art form that shortens the distance between writer and reader. If you are reading a handwritten note on a piece of paper, you can be assured that the same piece of paper was handled by the one who formed the words on its page. Finally, like an experienced fighter, an experienced penman will develop his own distinct signature and style of handwriting. A well-developed and artful handwriting will be readable yet nuanced and particular to the individual.
If handwriting is the swordsmanship of the written word, the typing we do in texting and on social media might be considered its firearm equivalent: a powerful weapon, but not half as artful. For one, the “writing” we engage in online allows for a striking level of detachment and even anonymity, perhaps dangerously so. A message typed from across the country will appear in the same standardized script on your iPhone as it does on mine. There is no personal style or familiarity in such standardization. Perhaps engaging so heavily in a form of physically detached writing causes us to believe that we are not in fact responsible for our words – a dangerous thought indeed. It would be hard to feel like you weren’t responsible for using a sword, but it is all too easy to become trigger-happy with “post” and “send” buttons.
No doubt, the invention and development of typed manuscript has radically transformed our ability to engage with literature, history, and each other. And like any weapon, handwritten words, too, can be used for good or for ill; they can be as cutting and destructive as typed words, just as swords can be as deadly as guns. As penmanship becomes increasingly obsolete, however, it is worth considering its peculiar virtues. Computers can type and even do so in fancy fonts, but computers will never be able to form letters with the character and touch of the human hand. writing beautifully allows the thoughts of our minds and hearts to manifest themselves through our own bodies in a form that communicates the great value of words.
A century ago, penmanship was a significant part of school curriculum, with methodologies, textbooks, and handwriting drills devoted to it. Though public schools are not required to teach cursive writing anymore, many private schools consider it an essential part of early education, some even requiring its exclusive use for much of grade school. Emphasizing excellent penmanship in the school setting would train students in a teachable skill that brings a sense of beauty back into learning. As more generations are brought up in a technology-dominated culture, returning to penmanship across culture could even indirectly affect young people’s approach to the role of writing and value of words in public discourse.
How can we take hold of this forgotten art in our own culture and everyday lives? Young people especially should look for opportunities both to use and to improve their penmanship. How would our friendships be enriched by handwritten birthday cards, thank-you notes, and even holiday cards?
Consider replacing some online correspondences with hand-written ones. Beautifully handwritten notes require more planning and effort but demonstrate thoughtfulness and care. Even informal, everyday words are imbibed with dignity when put in an artistic form. Typing your grocery list in the Notes app does not lend itself to the same sense of ownership and intentionality as your grandmother’s gracefully handwritten list.
If penmanship is truly an art with value and goods of its own, it is worth doing and worth doing well. If your penmanship is not currently good, improve by practice. It will require patience and effort and produce a heightened sensitivity to beauty in the mundane. After all, the forms that make up our lives make us. Forming beautiful letters will form you. Apprentice yourself to the swordsmen of old and pick up the lost art of penmanship.
The views and opinions expressed in this piece are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the values and beliefs of Cogitare Magazine, nor of Grove City College.
