Writing without guidelines

Guidelines are important. For a calligrapher, they allow uniformity, consistency and rhythm while allowing one to concentrate on a variety of other things including the refinement of a particular letterform. In developing skill in writing letters, they are indispensable for learning the techniques needed to become a successful calligrapher. They provide a framework for the structure of the proper, historical letterform.

There is a certain point though, where it is a good idea to abandon the guideline and begin to write freely, not to discard proportion and spacing principles, nor even historical letterform, but to pay attention to what your individual hand is doing with the pen, and also to find a comfort zone in the height and proportion of your letters.

There is a freedom in practice that allows for experimentation and exploration. In practice, rather than trying for a finished product,  I am more concerned with paying attention to new things that may be happening that I can later incorporate into my artwork. Just sitting down and writing for a continuous period of time also has the effect of re-establishing rhythm that may have been lost due to being away from the drawing table... it can become meditative and pleasurable.

In the examples here I have begun to write a new poem for which I am trying to get a visual feel . For lack of a direction I picked up a pen with a broad edged metal nib and began writing a semi-formal Roman letterform on a scrap of canvas I had in the studio. This more historical form will not necessarily be what I use for the finished product, it was just what began to come from my hand that day...you can see in the first four lines of the example below I am changing size, weight and style to find out what I like. There is no time wasted here because these experiments will prove useful in future work, and there was a certain point where that "rhythm" kicked in and the letters began to become pleasing. Also this work will provide some good texture for background effect as I move farther on this canvas...

Canvas has a number of benefits for me, not the least of which is that it forces me to slow down significantly in lettering. Drawing a metal pen over unprimed or raw canvas causes the canvas itself to move, and the inks tend to sit up and not necessarily soak in. In slowing down my movements, I then concentrate more of the form of the letter, at the same time allowing my hand to make a natural movement based on the width of the pen nib I selected.

In this type of practice, I am consciously writing letters that I know will eventually be covered over by layers of paint and other lettering... so inside the rhythm I am developing I can work with sizing letters and adjusting on the fly; note for example the last word ("been"), second line from the bottom has two different sized "e"'s and throughout the piece the lettering gets a little larger here and a bit smaller there. What this has done is given me some clues into what my hand tends to "like" in this letter, and I can now pick out the right sized letters and make them "my" height instead of relying on an exemplar's recommendation.


The poem I am writing is a part of my "Baron Journals" project in collaboration with poet Christopher Baron.

The Baron Journals

I am privileged to be working on a project that involves the fusion of artwork, calligraphy and poetry. 


My friend Chris Baron is a poet. His body of work includes writings about Romanian roots and his identity being raised in a Jewish home in Brooklyn, writings around his impressions of a trip he took to Israel and Palestine, and writings that concern history including the holocaust.


I will attempting to interpret selections from a series of his poetry, and in the process working with programs like Adobe inDesign in order to create a more finished presentation and also to explore the fusion of digital images with the artwork in order to enhance the effects. I have worked on this project for a class, and will continue to work with Chris over the next six months or so to add poetry and artwork. I am using the large watercolor journals I love to work in, with artwork in mixed media including acrylic paint, ink, graphite and colored pencil. Below is our first prototype that includes the initial poem I have selected to begin the volume.


Chris' "Life Unworthy for Living”, seemed to be the text to begin this journey. The concept of the smooth stone emerges in this selection, and I have begun to attempt to explore the significance of stones; they correlate closely to Chris’ poetry as symbols of reverie, remembrance and memorial. This symbol will carry through the volume to tie pages, poems and themes together.


In this volume, I asked Chris to write an intro to his first poem; because the text in the book will be harder to read at the size of the preview, I have included the intro below, as well as the poem. Be sure to click on the full screen icon in the bar below the book to view at the larger size. 


I hope it speaks to you, and I will look forward to posting updates as new poems are completed and included over the coming months. - RH


In a Brooklyn apartment on Ave P and Quentin, a seven year old boy, after a long and guttural Hebrew prayer, is sent to play in his Grandparent’s bedroom. He waits at the door and listens. In the stillness, the sounds of words wrapped in tears turn to a slow hum and a desperate pleading. They are watching a film about the Holocaust. They are remembering. His young eyes are not allowed to see them, but the sound overwhelms him. Soon enough, he would see it, and the images would break him. They are mothers and fathers. They are children like me. Trains, and dust, and smoky starlight. After, his father walks in, holds the boy in his arms, and he whispers, “Never forget.” He never did, and the truth of his heritage became real.

Life Unworthy Of Living

- “lebensunwertes Leben” -

©2007 Christopher Baron

I am quiet

in my own history.

I walk a smooth stone

between my fingers

along my hand

in utter silence

writing poems

about the Holocaust.

It’s been six decades

I wasn’t even there, yet

my mind won’t let me believe

what my heart is living through.

The memories rise

in the voice of my grandfather,

so I go there again, and this time,

as children. This time

not alone.

I’m on my knees holding you.
You are looking into me.
It is cold,
but we are outside,
and our coats are torn.
There is a man in a dark hat,
his eyes are made of wood,
his hands are clothes pins.
He is hanging us on his line one by one
Tells us that we are...
“life unworthy for living”.
I pull you close to me,
whisper in your ear
at that same moment
not to be afraid.
“G-d will look after you.”
But in this deep place
of utter silence
I can only hear
the scrape of the train
coming in,
over the voice
of the clothes-pin man,
the iron wheels grinding,
and the shreiks of the train whistle
so loud that it is utterly silent.
Yet even in a memory
which is not my own
I follow the steam up and up
where it circles against a dark sky
and for a moment breaks the clouds
where starlight pours
into stillness,
a silence that veils
a people, visible, invisible,
who have always lived
who will always breathe
in the still
and sovereign
glory of life
worth living.

this time, not alone... by Christopher Baron, Randall M. Hasson | Make Your Own Book

Many thanks to Alice Hancock and Michael Clark for taking the time to give me much needed feedback and input on the layout process!