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Ein Beitrag von Künstler und Kalligraph Brody Neuenschwander 


I am told that handwriting is disappearing or has already disappeared. Many of us follow this story with sad fascination, assuming that the demise of this fundamental human activity will bring cultural disaster in its wake. The great irony is that calligraphy, handwriting’s well-dressed twin, lives on and even grows in popularity. Calligraphers themselves will often admit that they type more than they write, but when they DO write, it is with skill, deliberation and deep pleasure. Writing, in the hands of a calligrapher, makes language visible, beautiful, memorable.


But the keyboard and the screen rule our lives. So, what motivates a calligrapher to take up pen and ink and spend intense hours giving shape to words? Why do we sacrifice clarity and efficiency? Why make a text harder to read?


The place of calligraphy in the modern world is not easy to define. And yet, every year more people take calligraphy classes, investing time and energy in learning a skill that seems to be out of date. What do they do with this newly acquired skill?


They enhance the meaning of words.

They record thoughts and feelings.

They give shape to the stories of their lives.


In other words, they honor words. Calligraphy is perhaps unique in that it sits on the borderline between art and language. We read calligraphy and we look at it. It is in the calligrapher’s power to guide us through meaningful words in different ways. Calligraphy can be elegant, serene, and legible. It can be disturbing, hard to read, and challenging. It can express every emotion that the calligrapher can feel. Ink translates feeling into line, into letters, into works of (text) art.

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Can this art form have a social role? Can the calligrapher be the artful secretary who records another’s story? The Diocesan Museum in Paderborn has just carried out an experiment to test this possibility. “Tell me, o Muse,” was an event that brought calligraphers and re-rooted Paderborners together, the one telling a personal story, the other transforming it into calligraphy. On November 2, 2024, the public was invited to look over the shoulders of eight calligraphers as they transcribed and transformed the stories of eight Paderborn citizens who have arrived in the city from elsewhere over the years. Each re-rooted Paderborner was asked to write about her/his experience of migration, movement, relocation, restarting life in a new place. What was it like to move from Turkey or the United States to Germany? How difficult was it to make new friends? Was it hard to learn German? Do you miss your homeland? Can Germany become your new homeland? These are difficult questions, and they are faced by millions around the world today.


Eight stories of movement, loss, new beginnings. Eight calligraphers to write them. There was little or no contact between the storyteller and the calligrapher before the evening in the museum. The calligraphers received the stories in advance, giving them the chance to read the story and think about its meaning before the event began.


During the event the calligraphers created a work of art based on the story they were given. This was a personal interpretation of the words, not intended to please the storyteller. The calligrapher worked as an artist, using the words of the story as a catalyst for a work of art. At the end of the evening, the calligrapher and the storyteller met. Some storytellers could identify with the art works created from their stories. Others perhaps less so. But all felt that a bridge had been built, a story heard, a story told. The delicate, intimate interaction of artist and text became a warm, open invitation to friendship between artist and storyteller.

I wonder if this experiment can point calligraphy in a new direction. Can calligraphers become the listeners? Can they bring the stories of all kinds of people to the public in a new way? Can they interpret words, shape sentences, create works of art out of the stories that we all have and want to tell? “Tell me, o Muse” was a successful experiment. It is worth taking the idea further. There are many calligraphers in Germany today. I am confident that many of them would take up the challenge of recording the stories of all kinds of people, young and old, German and foreign, all religions and none.


We all have stories to tell. Let us give calligraphers a new task: to record our stories and transform them into works of art.

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