The end of calligraphy
I don’t know the last time I wrote or received a handwritten letter. Except for the occasional message or short list I scribble down to remind myself of what to do, the computer has replaced that habit.
However, I still receive postcards from time to time, especially during the holidays and at the end of the year. It’s often at these times that you can tell if the sender has a flair for design.
I know my handwriting isn’t the best, but it bothers me when I see a message written with crooked lines. It’s as if a messy, untidy handwriting would give a false representation of who we are.
In The Swerve, Stephen Greenblatt tells the story of the humanist Poggio Bracciolini (1380–1459), a hunter of ancient scrolls that had been kept for centuries in the monasteries of Europe.
With the decline of the Roman Empire, it fell to the monks, who were tasked with reading, preserving, and copying texts that had kept the ideas of the ancient world alive for generations.
Poggio copied several of these texts. He discovered and reintroduced Lucretius’s ancient poem De rerum natura to the world. With his beautiful handwriting, he became one of the precursors of modern graphic design.
It is fascinating to see that, at a time when Gutenberg’s printing press was just beginning to emerge, someone managed to create a font so legible and unlike anything known until then.
Poggio Bracciolini created space between words and developed a cursive, rounded font (1) that gave rise to what we know today as italics.
The guy even took the trouble to make holes in the margins (2) so the pages would stay firmly in place and not slide while he wrote. Additionally, he created 26 very thin lines per page, ensuring that the space between the lines of text, perfectly aligned to the left, would be the same (3).
Of course, today’s environment is different. But I wonder if, in the digital world we live in, handwriting will disappear forever. I even wonder if our signature will one day become binary code.
But most of all, I am frightened when I imagine that my shopping list, which I wrote by hand this morning, will be rediscovered in five hundred years by a humanist android.
Photo: Reproduction of the Poggio manuscript, Laurentian Library, Florence.
Source: “The Swerve” by Stephen Greenblatt