History Of Handwriting

History of Handwriting - the development of handwriting .How did handwriting develop? It evolved over a few thousand years, changing and adapting to new cultures and new technologies. Here's a brief history

...In the beginning

Before there was writing, there was only verbal communication, with cultural norms, rituals and stories passed on orally from one generation to the next. As language and cultures evolved, so did the need for communication. Simple drawings became pictographs, and pictographs became standardized within each culture.

?What is writing

Writing is a codified system of standard symbols: the repetition of agreed-upon simple shapes to represent ideas. Recognizable systems of writing developed in 3 major cultures within 1200 years of each other. Sumerian cuneiform developed around 3000 BC, Egyptian hieroglyphs around 2800 BC, and the precursor to Kanji Chinese around 1800 BC. The development of writing allowed cultures to record events, history, laws; theories in math, science, medicine; create literature and more. Simple pictographs were used to represent people, places and things. As the needs for communication expanded, different pictographs were combined to represent ideas, and required knowledge to interpret the new symbols. These became ideographs: abstract symbols that evolved beyond the original drawings.

Sumerian innovations

Sumerian scribes used to write on long, vertical tablets of wet clay, from top to bottom, right to left. Righthanded scribes had problems, since they would sometimes smudge the symbols as they wrote. They started turning the tablets sideways, and started writing right to left, then top to bottom. Ideographs were also turned sideways as they were written, and became more abstract in appearance. Also, the introduction of a triangular-tipped stylus increased the abstract look of the symbols. Ideographs were combined to sound out longer words, such as wind + doe = window. These later developed into phonograms: the first phonetic sound of each symbol in a group was pronounced, and together the sounds produced a word, such as dog + eagle + lake = deal. Phonograms required a person to decipher the writing in order to understand the meaning.

Egyptians innovations

Around 2400 BC, the Egyptians started using papyrus and reed brushes for writing. Ink flowed more smoothly on papyrus, and allowed scribes to write more quickly, which made symbols less angular and more rounded in appearance. Hieroglyphs were simplified about 1500 BC, and became known as hieratic script (priestly writing). This was used almost exclusively for religious writing, but was later used for commerce. The script was simplified again around 500 BC, and became more widely used. This was called demotic script (script of the people).

The Phoenician alphabet

The ancient Phoenician alphabet also developed around 1500 BC. It comprised 22 phonetically-based symbols and was widely used. By 800 BC, it had spread to Greece, and under the rule of Alexander the Great, it further spread to Egypt, Persia, and India.

The Roman Empire

The Roman Empire rose to power in the 2nd century BC, and by 146 BC had conquered Greece. The Romans adopted many aspects of Greek culture, including the alphabet. This 23-letter alphabet spread across Europe as far as England, and also into Northern Africa and the Persian Gulf. Inscriptions in capital letters were carved on structures all over the empire. The hand-written counterpart to the carved capitals was called Capitalis Quadrata. These were later transformed into Rustica Capitals, which were very condensed in width, so that more text could fit onto parchment and papyrus, which were still expensive materials. By 400 AD, an everyday Roman script had developed for transactions, bookkeeping and correspondence. Written letter forms were much more informal in shape, compared to the structured capitals. Letters began to flow together to save time and space on parchment. This was the earliest sign of lowercase letter forms, with ascenders, descenders and ligatures between the letters.

Christianity and Celtic writing

By now, Christianity was the official religion throughout the empire, and Bibles were copied and distributed to the extent allowed by the limitations of producing each one by hand. St. Patrick brought a Bible with him to Ireland, and the Irish began producing their own elaborately designed Bibles. The Celtic style of lettering involved writing the letters within 1-inch square guides, and were known as uncials. Around 600 AD, smaller half-uncials appeared, which closely resembled our modern lowercase letters. The letters were very rounded in style, and ascenders and descenders were extended on the lowercase letters. Also, word spacing was increased to improve readability.

Charlemagne standardizes writing

In the late 700's AD, the ruler Charlemagne controlled most of Europe, and appointed an English monk to oversee standardized lettering practices for copying texts. Large uncials were used at the beginning of sentences, and lowercase letters were now a uniform part of the Roman alphabet. This style developed into Romanesque hand, and later into the Gothic style in Germany, around 900 AD. Gothic lettering was very thick, angular, and tightly set between letters and words, to save space. The dot on the lowercase i was added to distinguish it from similar strokes in the m, n and u. Lettering styles continued to develop. There was a common script style in use for practical purposes, and a more precise, artistic hand lettering was used for important texts and books, with great care taken to write each letter. In the 10th century, the letter u was created separately from the v, whereas previously the v was used for both sounds (such as sirivs instead of sirius). The w was created in the 12th century to accommodate more European languages, where the v would not serve. The j evolved from a modified i in the 15th century. This brought the Roman alphabet to 26 letters total.

From writing to mechanical printing, and back to writing

When Gutenberg created his movable type press in the mid-1400's, he modeled his letters upon the style of the scribes at the time. The technology advanced, and more upright letters were designed for printing. Several others designed similar upright, or Roman style, type faces, but in the late 1500's, Robert Granjon designed type faces that more closely resembled script writing, and these became quite popular. The development of copperplate engraving allowed for the use of very delicate type faces with many flourishes and curliques in the script-like letters, which greatly influenced handwriting. Handwriting masters began to grow in number, to produce beautifully written documents. Elegant handwriting became a sign of social status.

The institution of penmanship

By the mid-1700's, there were special schools established to teach handwriting techniques, or penmanship. Master penmen were employed to copy official documents such as land deeds, birth and marriage certificates, military commissions, and other legal documents. Timothy Matlack was commissioned to write the final copy of the Declaration of Independence, and Jacob Shallus penned the final copy of the Constitution of the United States of America. In the late 1800's, Charles Zaner founded the Zanerian College of Penmanship, and later sold part interest to Elmer Bloser. Together, they founded the Zaner-Bloser Company, and created materials to be used in teaching good penmanship as part of a general education. In 1904, they published the Zaner Method of Arm Movement, developed especially for elementary-aged children. The Zaner-Bloser style is one of the main styles of handwriting taught to children in the U.S. to this day. A newer method of teaching penmanship was developed in the mid-1970's by Donald Neal Thurber, called D'Nealian style. It uses slanted letters to teach printing, in order for children to transition more easily to cursive writing. This has also become a popular method taught in U.S. schools.

Handwriting in America: A Cultural History

The cover on this penmanship book from the late 1800s is as ornate as the instructions contained inside it. Note the upper right hand corner -- it specifies that this version is intended for boys, indicating that boys learned a different handwriting style from the one girls were taught. Handwriting in America: A Cultural History isn't a new book by any means. Published in hardback in 1996, it's been around for a bit; you can get it in paperback or at used-book stores. But it's one of those books that has stayed in my mind as interesting, enlightening, informative, and just plain fun.

Handwriting in America: A Cultural History is a fascinating look at how penmanship reached the state it’s in today. If you read this book (which reads much like and may be a thesis, with numerous quotes from a huge range of sources), prepare to have just about everything you ever believed about handwriting turned upside down. In the foreword, author Tamara Plakins Thornton shows us the seeds of the intellectual journey that resulted in this book: "Foremost among (my attitudes) toward handwriting was my secret conviction that good penmanship does not matter, that if anything it denotes a person who is fearful or incapable of being in any way unusual. Of course, what lies behind that conviction is the belief that handwriting in some way reflects personality, most especially those qualities that differentiate one person from everyone else. Faithful imitation of penmanship models -- what teachers would call good handwriting -- thereby signals conformity and ordinariness, while breaking all the penmanship rules, even to the point of illegibility, is a mark of individuality."

The ribbon around this hand is actually a penmanship tool, intended to train muscles to the proper position and range of motion. As the person wrote, the ribbons would tug when he/she reached the outer limits of "proper" and literally rein the hand in.

Thornton's attitude, typical of mid- to late-20th Century attitudes toward handwriting, was probably picked up in school, where she says she had little to no emphasis on handwriting. By the late 1960s, penmanship as a discipline had descended to such low status that schools had begun to eliminate it, a process that by the 1980s was woefully complete. Thornton became interested in the subject’s cultural heritage when, as an adult, she saw an 18th Century advertisement that advocated the adoption of particular handwriting styles appropriate to a person’s gender, social status, and occupation. Adopt a handwriting style? One appropriate to your station?!? This is what hooked me on the book. I’d assumed that penmanship had always been taught the way it was taught me by a martinet named Mrs. Pairsh, who had wholeheartedly adopted the most militaristic of A. N. Palmer's methods, ordering us to start practice by issuing commands: "Pens. Position. Circles." When class was over, at lunchtime, she ordered us: "Turn. Stand. Face forward. March." (She did, however, get results.)

If enthusiasm lightens labor, as this penmanship student wrote some 25 times on this page alone, one hopes he had some enthusiasm for the job. Even at a 6th or so grade level, his writing is much more disciplined than ours is today.

It intrigued me to learn that handwriting instruction has gone through phases, fads, up- and downturns in popularity -- all the things that reading, math,and science have endured. The first few chapters of Handwriting in America proved the most interesting to me, and the first two chapters most interesting of all. Called "The Lost World of Colonial Handwriting," the first chapter explains how a particular writing style was, far from being considered an expression of individuality, actually selected and adopted -- learned, cultivated, and practiced. Clerks learned one writing style; engrossers another; aristocratic ladies still another, and gentlemen something different yet again. These styles were instantly recognizable to everyone who mattered, so that merely by looking at something a person had written, his/her social status, educational level, and relative importance in society were immediately known. It was a useful system for a class-based society, a society that was facing increasing depersonalization in communications brought on by the rise of the printing press. That society would have been aghast at the idea that merchants’ and gentry’s words should be given the equal weight that the printing press, with its uniform text, gave them. Reading and writing were not taught at the same time, and sometimes writing wasn’t taught at all. Not everyone was thought to need to know how to write, and the ability to read wasn’t considered dependent on writing. Especially in America, reading was considered essential because it gave individuals personal access to Scripture. On far-flung frontiers without clergy, spiritual development was often self driven.

The intricate exercises on this page (of which this is only a sample -- it includes many others!) show some of the movements students practiced interminably to gain proficiency in the strokes used to make letters. But writing? Inessential. A good eye with a hunting rifle, the ability to judge planting times, good weaving skills, yes; but not writing. Writing was at best a commercial skill. For women, it held the same importance as needlework or dancing, while illegible writing on the part of gentlemen was considered proof that they were above crass commercialism. These attitudes also served as a powerful social control. Suppose you were a lowly clerk with the proper mercantile "hand" for your station. Suppose you had some rather radical political or social ideas and the audacity to write an inflammatory pamphlet. You’d most likely have it published scribally, meaning it would be reproduced by hand by someone who, as I understand it, would reproduce it using a style appropriate for your station in life. Anyone among the upper classes (or other classes, for that matter) would know by the handwriting style with which the piece was written that you were only a clerk and that your words and thoughts should carry no weight. As Thornton sums up, "The appropriate degree of authority granted to the handwritten word, to literacy in the largest sense, was inscribed into the very words themselves, guaranteeing that literacy would carry neither socially promiscuous meanings nor culturally disruptive uses."

Notice the detailed definitions of very basic terms -- slant, a straight line, a curved line. This penmanship book differentiates ad infinitum between right-hand and left-hand curves.

Big changes came during the Victorian era, particularly in teaching methodologies, that eventually came to identify handwriting development with character development. The Victorians conceptualized the development of a disciplined, ordered handwriting as evincing the internalization of the discipline, integrity, resourcefulness, and other characteristics they felt essential to a strong, upright character. In men, a "muscular" handwriting was admired. Women ("ladies," anyway), mirroring their supposedly passive role in society, were expected to exhibit frivolous, overly ornate hands that took inordinate amounts of time to pen properly -- thus demonstrating that they had nothing of importance to occupy their time. In typical Victorian fashion, they complicated the process to such an extent that they’d write literally pages of instructions on how a person was to sit, pages more on pen position, and still more pages on paper position. I have engravings of a skateboard-like tool with a hole in its front end, on which a student’s forearm rested while he practiced penmanship (the pen went through the hole to touch the paper and the skateboard was supposed to train his muscles to the proper movement).

Read this, and see if you can decipher exactly what it says. Imagine trying to remember what stroke was what, how it differed from others, and how they fit together while your hand was struggling to follow your muddled brain. Could they have made it any more difficult? Later on, one school of handwriting instruction broke letters down into individual component strokes, which at their most extreme were taught externally to the letters: You’d learn Stroke A, Stroke B, and Stroke C, and then learn that a particular letter was composed of A and C, for instance. Overcomplication? Well, the Victorians were good at it! Out of this group came Platt Rogers Spencer, who developed the wildly baroque swirls of Spencerian script. At the height of this movement, some writing masters’ instructions for certain feats (usually illustrative of the masters’ prowess) included holding the pen stationary on the paper while rotating the paper 180° before continuing -- hardly something useful for ordinary folk. Later came A. N. Palmer, who was considered revolutionary in his time and who approached penmanship training with a regimentation that left generations of children with shivers if they heard the term "pushpull." Children were, among other things, made to stand at blackboards and, at "push" and "pull" commands from the teacher, make rows of consistent up/down chalk marks. As skill advanced, these would be done on paper in decreasing sizes until a good writing size was reached.

During A.N. Palmer's era, if you did everything right and completed your push-pulls with aplomb, you might receive a button like this one as a reward for your efforts. As typewriting had mechanized office communication, Palmer turned individual writers into machines -the social importance ascribed to handwriting had again transmogrified from an integral indicator of character to a disconnected musculoskeletal function. Palmer"s method did, however, result in uniform, legible handwriting. The downturn of penmanship was in part in response to that extreme regimentation. Later chapters trace the development of graphology, which has its roots in mid-1700s attempts to decipher character from physiognomy (phrenology was one branch of that school of thought), and the evolution and devolution of the craft as it gradually slipped into disrepute and became sidelined as an inessential element in an educated, well-rounded person. The 248-page book is available almost anywhere, with hardback list price at $45 and paperback at $18. You can probably even find one at a used-book store. Either way, it’s well worth the read and may even become a valued member of your reference library, as it has mine. Published by Yale University Press, ISBN 0-300-07441-7. Book review, by Dyas A. Lawson

The joy of flex, part one

This flourish is made with a superflex nib on an E. Johnson dip pen from the 1800s. Even then, superflex nibs were a bit of a specialty item; and their relative fragility made their survival to modern days less likely. Note how the ink separates to follow the individual tines as they spread past the ink’s ability to maintain a sheet across the gap. "How do you know when a nib is flexible?" asked the puzzled young man before me, a frown crinkling between his eyebrows. "Uh-h-h. . ." My response, slightly less than articulate, illustrated my bafflement. For me, it’s kind of like breathing -- hard to explain step by step to, say, a fish with new lungs. But the young man had a legitimate question: How do we determine whether a nib is rigid, semi-flex, flexible, or a wet noodle? How can a person judge whether he or she might like to try one, or for that matter what it ought to do once in his/her possession? Can we make comparisons to pens that nearly everyone would have access to, so we’ll have a more or less equal baseline for comparison? That sent me on a quest to those more knowledgeable than I about nibs, metallurgy, calligraphy and flexible-nib-based handwriting, and flexibility in general. Sam Fiorella, John Mottishaw, Pier Gustafson, and David Nishimura, to be exact -- all well-known and well-respected names in the pen-collecting world. First, we should note that nib flexibility involves many factors. Among those are alloy composition, tine length and width, nib thickness, slit length (to some extent), and others. Less controllable factors (at least as far as objective analysis is concerned) come into play, also, such as the writing characteristics of the person wielding the nib -- for example, the pressure on the nib and the angle at which it’s held to the paper. And if those weren’t daunting enough, we still have to add the physics involved, which includes such things as friction, opposing forces, and things I haven’t messed with for 30 years.

You can relax; we aren’t going to go into those technical bits. They can be fascinating, but also complex, and deserve detailed discussion on their own. Since they aren’t relevant to our main point, which is how to determine a nib’s flexibility and give it some sort of classification, we’re going to ignore most of them. General classification agreement I was pleased to see that everyone essentially agreed with my initial assessment: The only practical way to determine a nib’s flexibility is to try it out -- feel it -- and judge its behavior against that of other nibs. In other words, we all use a subjective/relative assessment rather than an objective/measurable one (although I’m sure such a set of criteria could be developed if one were so inclined). "I judge it like you do, by the feel of the nib and just how it writes," said Fiorella. "No magical formula!" :Nishimura offers descriptions that he uses to judge flexibility Semi-flex: nibs with "suspension," i.e. they respond to pressure with a change in feel, but without creating significant line variation. Flex: nibs that provide significant line variation. Superflex (the "wet noodle" variety): nibs that must be used with a light touch, that open up with very light pressure and can be destroyed by careless or inexperienced handling. "There’s really not much more one can do, as a practical matter," Nishimura said. "There’s no simple answer to flex descriptions."

Above , you can see some of the typical characteristics of a rigid vintage nib: short, stubby tines and a short slit with a broader shoulder. Above right, a more flexible nib with longer, thinner tines, a narrower shoulder, and a slimmer profile overall.

Many pen experts recommend testing a nib for flexibility by pressing it gently against your fingernail. The more quickly the tines spread and the lighter the pressure, the more flexible the nib. This nib, on a 1920s Conklin, is fairly flexible, spreading significantly with little pressure.

A simple methodology

Mottishaw, the metallurgist and nib-modifier in the crowd, had similar thoughts but a different way of expressing it, and offers a simple, easy test for flexibility. "Rather than an objective criteria I would describe a methodology," he said. "Because flexibility is a characteristic in a gold nib, to bend when put under pressure, the test becomes one of feeling. "What I like to do is place the tip of the nib on my left thumbnail and feel how much pressure is required in order to separate the tines. I suppose one could measure that in grams (ounces might be a little crude), but I never have." Obviously, then, the lighter the pressure needed to cause the tines to spread appreciably, the more flexible the nib. The thumbnail test is a common one among penfolk; look around any pen show or gathering of pen collectors, and the fountain-pen users will be testing each other’s nibs on their thumbnails for just the effect Mottishaw mentions. (Caveat: Do this gently and cautiously until you know what you’re doing so you don’t accidentally spring a nib beyond its ability to recover.) It’s significant, also, that people experienced with flexible nibs tend to the definitions Nishimura offered. Agreement was pretty much universal as to what constitutes rigid, semi-flex, flex, and superflex. That will make our task somewhat easier. Gustafson, a professional calligrapher and graphic designer who creates the exquisite thick/thin flourishes of Spencerian, copperplate, and related hands with the ease with which most of us blink our eyes, once wrote and illustrated a pocket-sized booklet, which he jokes is "fraught with subjectivity," that delved into the intricacies of nib flexibility. It’s important to note at the outset that the mark of a top-notch calligrapher is not the breadth of line, but the fineness of the finest line produced and the quality of the transitions from thin to thick and vice versa (the desirable qualities vary from hand to hand). It takes considerable control to make that just-barely-there stroke (and make it consistently) preparatory to the pressured stroke that splays a nib. Part of the nib’s ability to do that is the only other nib quality we’re going to discuss, and that briefly: Return, as Gustafson calls it. Return refers to the rapidity with which a flexed nib returns to its original shape. If it does so instantly when pressure is released, it has a fast return; if more slowly, a slower return. This will affect the kind of thin/thick lines it will make, regardless of who’s wielding it. A fast-return nib will allow an instant switch on the upstroke from thickest to thinnest line; a slow-return nib will not, and will result in a more gradual change from thick to thin. Sometimes this is desirable; sometimes not. We’ve compiled a list of modern and vintage pens that tend to exhibit the characteristics we’re illustrating. This list is not exhaustive, nor even hard and fast. It’s entirely possible to have variation within manufacturers and within the same model range. We hope that at least one or two among them will be available to everyone, so you can try the various nibs against your own thumbnail and get a feel for flex vs. non-flex. In addition, these descriptions will help readers understand exactly what we mean in future when we classify a nib as flexible, semi-flex, or rigid.

Rigid nibs, which have little to no flex, leave lines of uniform width regardless of pressure. Left to right, Rotring Core, XS nib (about the same as F); Retro 51, M; Visconti Pericles, F; Cesare Emiliano, M. Please note--these images are intended only to illustrate line-width variation, not to be beautiful!

Rigid nibs

Most modern nibs fall into this classification. They often are just as suitable as ballpoints or rollerballs for multi-copy forms and are certainly easier for ballpoint-reared hands to master. I can’t think of a modern nib that’s genuinely flexible (Nakaya and Namiki Falcon would fall into my "soft" category). The change in fashion to rigid nibs occurred in the early 1920s when the first Sheaffer Lifetime and Parker Duofold nibs were made thick and solid to live up to their long warranties. Sheaffer Lifetimes and Senior Duofolds from 1924 through 1930 will usually be rigid, as are all Waterman’s manifold nibs, and most vintage manufacturers -- Conklin, Wahl-Eversharp, Mabie Todd -- included rigid nibs in their line-ups. The Parker 51s and Sheaffer conical (Triumphs, Snorkels) and inlaid nibs (PFMs, Imperials) generally fall into this category. Contemporary pens with rigid nibs include such readily available (and usually inexpensive) pens as the Parker Vector, Sheaffer No Nonsense, Diplomats, Heros, Cesare Emilianos, Pelikan Futures and Pelikanos, and disposable fountain pens such as Pilot Varsitys. Most modern Waterman nibs are rigid -- a nice irony, since their early nibs were among the most expressive in the industry -- as are most current Parker and Sheaffer nibs.

These lines, made with semiflex nibs, show slight variation from very light to fairly heavy pressure. Left to right, Ancora Ravenna, F; 1940 Sheaffer Balance, EF; 1940 Parker Duofold, F; modern Pelikan 400, F.

Semi-flex nibs

Most Pelikan nibs, on the 400 models and up, tend toward semi-flexibility. When pressed, these "soft" nibs give slightly, imparting a gentle, cushion-like "bounce" to the feel of the writing. This doesn’t give significant line variation, but it can set up an engaging writing rhythm; it’s almost as if they give your fingers a boost toward the next letter. Semi-flexes also can be found in many of the Italian brands, such as OMAS, Stipula, Delta, and Ancora. Nakaya's flexible nib is on the soft side of soft for me; it comes closer to old-style flex, but isn't quite. Generally, you’ll not find these among the under $100 pens (although there can be exceptions, usually where you least expect them). Waterman #2 nibs from 1915 through 1925, with the New York imprint, and Sheaffer’s ca. 1920 self-fillers are vintage examples.

With flexible nibs, we begin to see some genuine line variation (and it takes much less pressure to get it). Left to right, Security, F nib; Waterman’s #7 Red, F; 19th Century Aikin-Lambert dip pen, F-M

Flexible nibs

Among early flexy Waterman nibs, the #2s are the most ubiquitous. The flexibility of the Pink and Red nibs in the 5 and 7 series is legendary. Wahl, Conklin, and Mabie Todd made a range of flexible nibs in the semi-flex and flexible categories. Mottishaw adds that few truly flexible nibs were made after 1930 and even fewer after 1940, but points out that Canadian-made post-1930s Waterman and Parker pens slated for export often had flexible nibs, as these had a place in the hearts of many Europeans (who also had flexible Pelikans, OMAS, and Mont Blanc pens to choose from). Pre-1920 Parker and some early Sheaffer nibs had lovely flexibility, too. Dip pen nibs usually offer more flex at lower prices, and it’s really not that difficult to learn to control the ink flow with a dip pen. I still use them to write letters from time to time and find it quite soothing. That can make it an inexpensive way to try out flexible nibs to see if you like them. I'm reminded of a craze for Sailor's Zoom nibs a while back -everybody had to have one, but the majority of people realized after they'd bought the specialized nib that they couldn't handle it well. You won’t find any modern fountain-pen nibs that are genuinely flexible, no matter what their manufacturers and catalog-writers say.

Note the differences in ink intensity in these examples of superflex lines. The left one has a slower return than the one on the right; and you can see that when the nib is spread to its maximum, the ink lays slightly thicker toward the outside edge, near the tines. Also note the curlique outline at the end of the far-right example; as the nib was lifted, the tines sprang back together quickly enough to leave an instructive footprint. Left to right, Mabie Todd, Aikin Lambert, Fairchild, all dip pens from the late 19th and early 20th Centuries.

Superflex nibs

Waterman, Mabie Todd, and Wahl-Eversharp are about the only vintage firms that made superflex nibs, and they can be hard to find. After all, super-flexibility wasn’t something everyone wanted even when the pens were originally made. Some Parker and Conklin nibs from about 1910-1917 can fall into the superflex category, but they aren’t common. You’ll find this quality most often in dip pens from the mid 1800s onward; you won’t find it in any modern pen. Be sure, if you’re considering a superflex or even a flexible nib, that you have an opportunity to try it gently and see how quickly and widely the tines spread. A pen show is a perfect place to do so, with a vast array of nibs and a lot of people to help you choose (and test gently). If that’s not an option, members of pen-related lists and boards online are good sources of information, too, and again, some dip pens at your local art store can give you an inexpensive trial run. The accompanying illustrations, which make no pretense as to beauty but are utilitarian only, should help you judge where on the flex spectrum a specific nib falls. Using superflex pens requires a delicate touch that does not come naturally to hands reared on ballpoints, rollerballs, and the like. Flexible nibs part two discusses what flexible and italic nibs are supposed to do, with the goal of helping you decide whether you want one or are getting the most out of those you already have. Reprinted from Stylophiles Magazine, January 2004. Pen images courtesty of Riepl Imaging.

The joy of flex, part two

This offset oblique pen is made especially for use with copperplate and Spencerian scripts. The nib holder is offset to allow the writer to hold the pen at a comfortable writing angle while putting nib to paper at a much sharper angle than would be possible (or comfortable) otherwise. Looks like a medieval torture device, doesn't it? Chances are, if you’ve purchased a flexible-nibbed pen with the expectation that it would make your handwriting look fantastic, you were disappointed. Popular belief seems to be that merely using a flexible nib (or stub or italic, for that matter, but here we’re sticking to flex nibs) will automatically confer beauty on your handwriting. Unfortunately, it’s not so. This is what I not-so-fondly call the flexible-nib myth. Oh, flex-nibbed pens will make your writing look different, all right, and that may be all most people want. But "different" isn’t necessarily beautiful or better —- or even more legible. For instance, I have a correspondent who has small handwriting, but believes that a broad italic nib makes his writing better and a flexible nib makes it beautiful. What those tools actually do is close up every a, e, and o so they’re indistinguishable, and each d and b looks just like every h. I won’t even talk about m, n, u, v, and w. Suffice it to say that reading his letters is sometimes a bit of a strain! Another correspondent likes to use flexible nibs exclusively, but she’s never wanted to learn a copperplate or Spencerian hand. This is fine; flex nibs can, if used properly, "dress up" regular handwriting. But while she makes nice thick/thin lines and some pretty swirls, no two letters have the same axis and the baseline has a scalloped shape, not the straight baseline our eyes need to read easily. Sorry to bring the bad news, but truly beautiful handwriting comes from disciplined practice and the application of specific skills. Without those, a flexible or italic nib may be fun, but it won’t be used to its greatest advantage. The truth is, flexible (and italic) nibs are intended to do specific things. To get the most out of them, you have to learn the appropriate techniques -— just as you wouldn’t blindly smack a hammer against a wall and expect it to hit nails without guidance, you can’t expect a pen to form beautiful or even legible writing without some direction -— some technique, if you will —- from your hand and arm.

Training and practice

These days, neither our eyes nor our hands know how to distinguish beautiful scripts done correctly from those executed poorly. Let’s say someone -— we’ll call him Bob, though we mean no offense to any thusly named readers -— has spent a little time learning the shapes of copperplate. He often expresses elation at the lovely letters he can now make. Because his untrained eye is unable to discern the subtle differences between the shapes he’s made and those he’s trying to replicate, Bob is stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place. He can probably see that a professional’s script looks "better" than his, but can't determine why, and knowing why is vital to improvement. Two characteristics are critical to good scripts: pressure and control. As mentioned briefly in part one of "The Joy of Flex," it’s not the breadth of the broadest part of a letter that’s the mark of a good calligrapher, but the delicacy and consistency of the finest line. To achieve that delicacy, Bob must consistently be able to control the pressure of nib against paper. And smooth, consistent control involves the use of shoulder and arm muscles (the shoulder girdle -— the use of the large shoulder, chest, and arm muscles to provide smooth power and endurance, while the wrist, hand, and fingers perform more delicate guidance functions) as well as the hand. It’s not difficult to learn, but it does take time and effort to master the skill. Unfortunately, the only way I know to develop this technique is to practice. This means that, like a gradeschooler of a couple of generations back, Bob’s going to make a lot of mistakes, ugly letters, and probably many blobs and blotches. Most adults, having become accustomed to being competent at most things they do, have a difficult time going back to that "beginner" attitude and allowing themselves to make mistakes. I’ve no intention of trying to explain in this brief space how to wield a flex nib with flair and skill. I do hope to illustrate a few of the things Bob’s new flex nib will do, if handled properly, and what to look for both when using one and viewing other people’s writing.

Basic do’s and don’ts

First, any good script should have a straight baseline —- all the letters should "sit" on the same line. All the strokes should be at the same angle. All the "x" heights —- the main body of the letter -— should be the same and you should be able to draw a straight line across the tops of the ascenders and descenders (e.g., top of h and bottom of p, respectively). And all the lines drawn across all those separate parts should be parallel. (Unless you’re doing flourishes, which allow you to exceed those upper and lower limits.)

Figure 1: When done properly, Spencerian strokes are parallel, of even width from top to bottom, at the same angle, on the same straight baseline, and executed with the same pressure.

Figure 2: Poorly executed strokes are at different angles, none of which is quite correct (the two on the right are closest). Angles don't match, baseline is crooked, pressure varies from top to bottom, and other details are wrong (see text). We all have different writing angles, but for formal copperplate, one of the scripts for which flexible nibs were made, that should be at about 30-35° from vertical, or about a 55-60° angle to the baseline -— an angle steep enough to make writing feel awkward, which is why the offset nib holder was developed. Thus, letters should be written at about this angle and vertical strokes should look something like Fig. 1, not Fig. 2. This is where most of us first go wrong. We aren’t taught any longer (particularly those of us who learned to write after the early 1960s) to write consistently, even with ordinary printing or cursive, so we don’t know how to look at our writing analytically and recognize our inconsistencies and mistakes. If you note those details, you’ll see that the strokes in Fig. 2 are at different angles, only two of which approximate the 35° slope. Rather than being of even width throughout, the poor strokes show that, left to right, pressure is applied inconsistently after the stroke has begun; pressure is applied slightly after the stroke has begun and increases, widening the stroke throughout its length; pressure is uneven and the stroke wobbles; and pressure is released before the end of the stroke. The base- and top lines aren’t straight, either. Next comes the pressure-and-control part. In properly done script, the thins are consistent and clean, the transitions to and from thick strokes are smooth, and the transitions occur at the same place for each letter. The last is, in my opinion and observation, the most difficult thing for modern students to get correctly -— there are so many ways to do it wrong! In the examples below, note the baselines and X heights and carefully compare the tops and bottoms of the strokes and the spot where the thick-thin transition occurs. In the first, the strokes are fairly good —- parallel going up and down, and with the transitions occurring just past midpoint on the downstroke or upstroke.

These strokes are done correctly for copperplate or Spencerian. The thick/thin transitions are consistent, as are angles, curves, pressure, and other details (see text).

Here, we have a beginner's attempt at the above strokes. It's easy to see, when comparing them to the correct examples, where and how they go wrong, but it can be devilishly difficult to see those things in our own writing. See text for detailed explanation. In the group above, we have some common problems, which have been exaggerated for effect. Again, left to right, strokes are fairly parallel but pressure doesn’t start until after the downstroke has begun; strokes aren’t parallel, though the downstroke pressure begins at closer to the right spot; the o is too round and pressure isn’t released before the upstroke begins; the strokes are close to parallel but crooked, showing uneven pressure, and additional pressure comes on the upstroke just after it starts upward (a good way to break a delicate tine); strokes aren’t parallel and pressure stays on past the beginning of the upstroke. And just look at that baseline!

This is a beginner's attempt at writing with an offset oblique nib. Line-width variation definitely exists, but not in any consistent fashion, and compared to the better example (green, below), it’s. . . well, pretty sad. Fortunately, the person who committed this atrocity also thinks it’s pretty sad, so we can make fun of it.

Here, we've added a green line to show how the baseline rises, dips, and curves, more like a mountain range than a written line of words.

Above, the familiar phrase executed by a more experienced hand. Much easier to read, soothing to the eye, even, cleanly executed, legible -- and beautiful. If copperplate is starting to look and sound a little more complicated than just picking up a flexible nib and writing . . . well, it kinda is. It’s not so much difficult as it is exacting, and it requires great attention to the tiniest details we’re not accustomed to worrying about, and then there’s that pressure-and-control thing . . . You aren’t going to be able to pick up a flex pen and learn copperplate from these brief examples. (If you can, we’ll all want your stock-market tips, too!) This would take a lot more information, and more time, dedication, and practice than most of us want to put in. But they should give you a sense of what your

flexible nib was meant to do, what it can do in the right hands, and equally important, what good copperplate ought to look like, so you won’t be overly impressed with less-than-prime examples.

Above are two examples of writers who frequently use flexible nibs in their everyday worlds. Neither has Spencerian pretensions, but both are reasonably legible and smooth. In the red example, you can see thicks and thins and a couple of graceful transitions; but this nib is too wide for the writer's normal handwriting. In the green example, there's less line-width variation and the writer depends more on flourishes than letterforms to gain distinctiveness. These are ordinary flexible nibs, not intended for Spencerian hands; they'll give lovely line variation but it’s difficult to do proper copperplate with them because of the extreme forward angle required. A final note: Always, using your pens should be fun. If learning this kind of thing is just more effort than you want to put into it, don’t. Enjoy what your flex nibs will do within the sphere of your own interest and writing abilities. Just watch those baselines and angles, and try to make sure that your writing is legible.

Just in case you wanted to see what the whole offset oblique pen looks like, I threw this in. Sorry, but yes, you have to master the art of dipping pens to use them. Reprinted from Stylophiles Magazine, February 2004. Pen images courtesty of Riepl Imaging.

Calligraphy tips Wanna try calligraphy now? Take a deep breath. Don’t even think about ornate gothic styles! And don’t try it ’til you’re comfortable with the shoulder-motion, wrist-and-forearm-make-the-letters writing you’ve been working on. If you wait, you’ll be much more successful with calligraphy.

Don't drool over this Gothic style (often called Old English, top), because it’s not for beginners. You can draw them, but that's not the goal, is it? The goal is flowing letterforms. A simple, flowing, attractive italic (bottom) is a much more sensible (and readable!) objective. For calligraphy, you’ll want a chisel-point (italic) pen for the thick-and-thin strokes that make attractive letterforms. Platignum makes a nice one; so does Osmiroid; I have a Sheaffer with three or four interchangeable nibs. They’re cartridge pens and much easier for a beginner than dip pens. Parker has a Vector calligraphy set, Sheaffer a Prelude, and Rotring, Pelikan, and others have theirs. Filcao makes a nice set that comes with a regular fine nib as well as the chisel-shaped calligraphy nibs.

These graceful, ornate copperplate styles require the use of an offset oblique nib (see "Joy of Flex," part two) to execute them correctly (and without tearing your wrist from its moorings). A quick note about italics and stubs: Italic nibs have sharp edges to give a clean, crisp transition from thin to thick to thin. Stub nibs have the same square, chopped-off look when viewed straight on, but if you look at them from the side, you can see that tipping material has been added so the point appears much thicker. This will still give you line-width variation, but the transitions will be softer and less crisp than if you’re using a regular italic nib. However, regular italic nibs can be difficult for beginners to use. Because their edges are sharp, it’s easy for beginners to catch the corners or edges in the paper and yank or tear. Very frustrating (for the pen, too, I would imagine!). Most of the brands listed above have taken this into account, so that their calligraphy pens have some softening on the edges to help you get over this hump. Another popular nib shape is often called "cursive italic." This is an italic grind, but with the outside corners smoothed off so that, if you press it quickly to paper at exactly 90°, you’ll get an oblong footprint. If you did this with a calligraphy italic nib, you’d get a rectangular footprint. This makes it easier for people to use for regular cursive writing.

Many pen experts recommend testing a nib for flexibility by pressing it gently against your fingernail. The more quickly the tines spread and the lighter the pressure, the more flexible the nib. This nib, on a 1920s Conklin, is fairly flexible, spreading significantly with little pressure. If you’re a leftie, you’ll probably want to try oblique nibs -- they’re cut on a slant to accommodate the awkward angles lefties must use to write from left to right. It’s easier for underwriters than hook-over writers to do this, too. Their hands don’t drag over the just-inked words. If nothing else, use cheapie throwaway markers for practice. You can approximate an oblique cut on a marker with a sharp razor blade or Xacto knife. (There’s a book for lefties from Dover Publications, address at end: Left-handed Calligraphy, by Vance Studley. Marie Angel [also at end] addresses southpaws, too.) Oblique nibs seem to have developed popularity, but I look at this pretty skeptically. Like the fad for Zoom and flexible nibs, I think it's largely a "me too" thing because frankly, not too many people either need or can use oblique nibs. If you’re right handed and trying to use a left oblique nib (the majority of oblique nibs), you have to cock your wrist at an unnatural angle to get the nib to contact the paper fully. If you hold your wrist more comfortably, only part of the nib will touch. Try putting the nib to paper (making a footprint, for example) while holding it in your fist. You'll see the odd angle at which it meets paper. The vast majority of people I"ve observed using oblique nibs don't use them correctly.

These two italic styles show that within a given style many, many variations can exist. Once you've developed your skill, you'll find that your italic looks slightly different from anyone else’s -- you'll have truly unique handwriting! Most people first want to learn an italic style. Many "stroke charts" (charts that show which way to make what strokes and how to combine them to form the letters) exist; about my favorite overall is the trusty and inexpensive Speedball booklet. It has a good variety of styles, samples and examples, the letters are formed well (not always the case with instruction books, particularly those that come with calligraphy sets), and the charts are clear and self-explanatory. Should be available at any art store and most stationers. Practice combining the strokes, which will be similar to the ones you’ve been practicing, to form the letters. They’ll probably look awful at first. They’ll become more refined with practice. Above all, don’t give in to the temptation to let your fingers form the letters! It’ll look better at first if you do, but will undo all the hard work you’ve done so far. Long-term, it’s counterproductive. Be patient and keep at it, just like you did the loops and circles. Soon, if you’ve laid all the groundwork, you should be whizzing along and writing better, if not beautifully; and if you can move into calligraphy, then you'll eventually be able to add "beautifully" to that, too. Many calligraphy books are available from Dover Books, which seems to be virtually unknown except among teachers. Many of Dover’s books are republished; all are reasonably priced. I’ve liked all the calligraphy books I’ve bought from the company. . Tell them you want their calligraphy-book catalog. You’ll never get one if you wait to show up on their mailing list -— they only send stuff to people who ask for it. Dover also has the classic Writing & Illuminating & Lettering, by Edward Johnston, which everyone should read just because. Some of my favorites are on the resources page.

By Dyas A. Lawson

Tips for improving your handwriting You’ve decided, you want to improve your handwriting and you’re probably hoping a fountain pen will do the trick -- maybe a friend told you it would. Maybe you’re just adventurous and you want to try your hand at calligraphy (or you might, once your handwriting improves). Good for you! A fountain pen may make your writing look a bit better, but if your writing looks as if frenzied chickens got loose on the page, chances are this won’t be enough. Most likely, you’ll need to retrain your arm and hand. After coaching handwriting and teaching calligraphy over the years, I’ve learned to see the characteristics of those who’ll be able to pick up the necessary motions quickly from those who’ll have to work a bit harder.

Crampy, uneven letters are often the result of drawing the letters with the fingers rather than using the whole arm to write. People who inevitably have trouble with handwriting and calligraphy write with their fingers. They "draw" the letters. A finger-writer puts the full weight of his/her hand on the paper, his fingers form the letters, and he picks his hand up repeatedly to move it across the paper as he writes.

If you use the right muscle groups, your writing will have a smooth, easy flow and not look tortured. People for whom writing comes more easily may rest their hands fairly heavily on the paper, but their forearms and shoulders move as they write. Their writing has a cadence that shows they’re using at least some of the right muscle groups. They don’t draw the letters with their fingers; the fingers serve more as guides. This exercise may help you determine which category is yours: Sit down and write a paragraph. Doesn’t matter what. Pay attention to the muscles you use to form your letters. Do you draw each letter with your fingers? Pick your hand up repeatedly to move it? Have an unrecognizable scrawl? Does your forearm move? Chances are, if you learned to write after 1955-60 (depending on where you went to grade school), you write with your fingers. My goal isn’t to make you into a model Palmer-method writer or a 14th Century scribe. If you can compromise between the "right" methods and the way you write now and improve your handwriting so you’re happier with it, then I’m happy, too.

A few people hold the pen between first and middle fingers, which feels really awkward to me, but I’ve seen it work. It will take time to re-train muscles and learn new habits. Finger-writing isn’t fatal, but it is slow and often painful (if you have to write much). The first thing you must have (beg, buy, borrow or steal it) is patience and gentleness with yourself. The second requirement is determination. If you finger-write, that is the first, most important thing you must un-learn: Do not draw your letters! Do not write with your fingers! Put up signs everywhere to remind you. Write it in the butter, on the shaving mirror, stick notes in the cereal boxes. But learn it! I hesitate to include this, because it sounds much more difficult than it is . . . but . . . let’s look at the most basic things: holding the pen and positioning the hand.

Fig. 1. This is the most common pen-holding position, with pen between first and middle fingers, held in place by the thumb. Most of us hold the pen between the thumb and index finger, resting the barrel on the middle finger (fig. 1). This works better than holding it between the thumb and the index and middle fingers, with the whole assembly resting on the ring finger (fig. 2). If you do it the first way, you’re off to a good start. If the second, you’ll be okay. In both, the remaining fingers are curled under the hand.

Fig. 2. The two-fingers-on-top method for holding the pen while writing. Pick up your pen and look at your hand. You’ll have better control and a better writing angle if your pen rests over or just forward of the bottom knuckle on your index finger, not between thumb and index finger (see fig. 3). (I hold my fountain pens in the latter position, but when I pick up a calligraphy pen, it drops obediently right over that big knuckle--go figure!)

Fig. 3. Note that with this position, usually used for calligraphy (or among really disciplined writers), causes the pen to rest atop the knuckle of the forefinger. For handwriting, the pen position is less important than for calligraphy. I recommend working in your familiar position unless it’s really bad. What’s essential is that you be comfortable, the pen feel balanced and you have no tension in your hand. Rest the heel of your hand and the angle of your curled-up little finger on the paper. Hold the pen lightly; don’t squeeze it. Pretend the barrel is soft rubber and squeezing will get you a big, fat blot. (If you were using a quill, you’d hold it so lightly that the actual act of drawing the quill along the paper would create the proper contact.) Many books recommend you write with your table at a 45-degree angle, but that’s impractical for most of us. If you can prop up a board or write with one on your lap, that’s a good place to start, but a flat surface is fine. Once you try an angled surface, you’re likely not to want to quit, so be careful-- here goes a whole new budget’s worth of art supplies! Sit up straight, but not stiffly; don’t sit hunched over or slumped. Don’t worry too much about this position stuff; the important thing is what makes you feel relaxed and comfortable. Your writing arm needs to be free to move, so squished into the La-Z-Boy probably won’t be productive. Hold your fingers fairly straight and write slightly above and just between your thumb and index finger, right where you’re holding the pen. Don’t curl your hand over and write to the left of your palm; that’s a crampy, miserable position. More lefties do this than righties.

Commonly called the "hook" position, this is often seen in left-handers. It makes it harder, but not impossible, for them to use a fountain pen, because their hands tend to drag over the wet ink. When you’re practicing and you reach the level on the paper at which it becomes uncomfortable to continue to move your hand down the paper to write, move the paper up. Once you recognize your "writing level," the paper should move up at that spot rather than your hand moving down the paper. (This isn’t critical. If you notice it and it bothers you, that’s what you do about it. If it doesn’t bother you, skip it.) I’ve found only one reference to using the right muscle groups to write, and this is critical. I can’t be the only person who knows this; I’m neither that smart nor that good. Calligraphy instruction books address hand position, desk position, lighting, paper, you name it--but for some reason, not using the right muscles. As you’ve probably surmised, the "right muscles" are not those in the fingers. You must use the shouldergirdle and forearm muscles. This muscle group is capable of much more intricate action than you think and tires much less easily than fingers, besides giving a smooth, clean, sweeping look to the finished writing. Though it seems paradoxical, since we’re accustomed to thinking of small muscles having better control, the shoulder-girdle group, once trained, does the job better. To get a feel for the proper muscles (and start training them correctly), hold your arm out in front of you, elbow bent, and write in the air. Write big. Use your arm and shoulder to shape letters; hold your forearm, wrist and fingers stationary and in writing position. You’ll feel your shoulder, arm, chest and some back muscles doing most of the work. That’s good. That’s what they’re supposed to do. Try to duplicate it each time you practice.

People always look puzzled when I mention the shoulder girdle. If you raise your hand in the air and make large circles, note the muscles you use in doing so (here, shown in darker pink). That’s the shoulder girdle. Write in the air until it becomes as natural as breathing. It’ll be awkward and feel silly at first. If you have a little kid around, get him/her to do it with you. You’ll both have fun, you won’t feel so alone, and it’ll be good for the child’s handwriting, too. If you don’t have a kid, tell your co-workers you’re improving your financial karma or hexing your boss. As you become comfortable, reduce the size of the air-letters you make. If you have access to a chalkboard or a stick and a fence (or even a finger and a wall), write on them. They’ll give you a feel for the muscles you need to use and writing on a vertical surface makes it virtually impossible to finger-write. (If you’re one of the people who can’t write on a blackboard because you keep wanting to shrink the writing down so your fingers can do it, this is really important for you.) If you keep wanting to hunch up close and put your hand on the chalkboard or wall to write, resist the urge! You’ll be indulging those dratted fingers. Remember: Your fingers should move very little and your wrist even less. Your forearm does most of the guiding, while your shoulder provides the power. At some point, you’ll want to try this with a pen. Hold it gently. Place it on the paper in an ordinary lined spiral notebook (the lines act as ready-made guidelines for size and spacing). If you can get hold of a firstgrader’s Big Chief tablet, which offers big lines with a dotted line between two bold lines, use it. There’s a reason children start out writing big and the letters get smaller as they get older and more skilled—-that’s the easiest way to learn. Start making Xs and ///s and \\\s and OOOOs and overlapped OOOs and spirals and |||||s. Do not draw these strokes and figures! Use the same shoulder-forearm muscles you’ve been practicing with. Make your lines, loops, circles and spirals freely. Work into a rhythm and make it a habit.

When you start making slashes and circles, they’ll be uneven. With practice, they’ll become more uniform, and uniformity is your objective. Your goal is smooth, uniform, evenly spaced lines, loops, circles and spirals, without drawing them. This is where you’re most likely to get discouraged. If you use a spiral notebook for practice, you can leaf back and see your progress. At first, your strokes and lines will be bad—over-running and under-running the lines, too small, too big, crooked, uneven, just ugly. Check your position; check your muscle groups; and try again. And again. Concentrate on keeping wrist-hand-fingers largely stationary and in proper alignment. Let the big muscles do the work. It will be more tiring at first, because you’re using muscles that aren’t accustomed to that kind of work. It’ll be hard and frustrating, ’cause your body will want to do it the way it’s done it since first grade… even though that way is wrong. It may help to concentrate less on the accuracy of the shapes you’re making than on the muscles making them. Retraining your arm is the goal, not making pretty little circles and lines first time out.

Uniformity and consistency are your aim in all the exercises, whether loopy or slashy. Though it seems uncomfortable, these exercises will make a huge difference in your control and smoothness. When you start putting the strokes and lines on paper, start out big. Three, four, even more lines in your notebook. (Big Chiefs are handy for this.) This helps ensure that you continue to use the shoulder girdle. Don’t try to make pretty letters at this stage. Do the exercises as much as you can—-shoot for every day. Ten or fifteen minutes a day should show results in a few weeks for most people. And note that both airwriting and paper exercises can be doodledduring meetings and while on holdwaiting for somebody! Concentrate on that shoulder girdle. Let it do the work. Write big. Write words and sentences at the same time you’re doing strokes and exercises. You need both working together to succeed. Gradually, as your control increases, make your strokes and letters smaller until they’re the size you normally write. You’ll know when you get there. By this time, you probably won’t have to make extra effort to incorporate this stuff into your writing; it’ll be automatic. And your writing should look much better (and be easier and feel better, to boot).

A History of Handwriting Analysis A brief History and early background of Handwriting Analysis The interest in handwriting as an indicator of personality has its origins far back in history. Over 2000 years ago, Aristotle noticed the correlation between handwriting and personality while the Chinese independently also made the observation that there was a connection between character and writing. It was however, only in 1622 that an Italian physician and professor of philosophy at the University of Bologna, published a book describing the analysis of character through the study of handwriting. In the late 1800's, Abbe Michon who was the headmaster of a school in Paris and a respected intellectual, wrote several books on the subject and coined the name of "graphology". Later, his successor, Crepieux Jamin, classified the many features of graphology into a comprehensive system. Meanwhile, during the 1890's in Germany, Dr Ludwig Klages, a philosopher and graphologist, applied gestalt theory to graphology, advanced his theories of rhythm and "form level" and significantly broadened the scope of graphology. Max Pulver, a Swiss professor who lectured in Graphology at the University of Zurich used psychoanalysis for the first time in the interpretation of graphology. This line of investigation was also followed by Ania Teillard, who worked closely with C.G. Jung for 20 years and applied his typological theories (extrovert and introvert etc.) to the theory of graphology. Alfred Binet, the renowned psychologist who founded the present method of I.Q. Testing for intelligence was a firm supporter of handwriting analysis. He confirmed that certain character traits are reflected in handwriting. As a method of personality assessment, handwriting analysis has been validated by research using both empirical and clinical procedures. (see Research) Handwriting as a personal trademark Handwriting is a very personal and individual trademark of personality. As no two people have exactly the same handwriting, signatures have for hundreds of years been regarded as legally binding on documents of all types. A person's handwriting is his own private trademark or seal which cannot be reproduced by any other individual. This was firmly believed by no less a personality than Sir William Herschel who founded the system of identification through fingerprints. He accepted that handwriting revealed character in the same way that fingerprints reveal identity. Alfred Binet, the renowned psychologist who founded the modern method of I.Q. Testing for intelligence was a firm supporter of handwriting analysis and confirmed that certain handwriting traits revealed actual character traits. The French psychologist, Pierre Janet (1859-1947) referred to handwriting analysis as a "science of the future" and described handwriting itself as; "an act which leaves a printout. It is the film record of the writer's sensibilities."

The "printout" left by handwriting is a description of the individual's character in psychological code. The graphologist, by using scientifically validated graphological techniques in combination with psychological theory is able to decipher that code and to translate it into a meaningful description of the writer's character

(The Hidden Meaning of Handwriting (Introducing a Book "Discover the real secrets about the Hidden Meaning of Handwriting!"

Fine words on a page say one thing, but the real message behind the words reveals a very different story! Take a look at the following handwriting sample:

If you received a note like this what would you be able to tell about the writer? The words are friendly enough! If you look a little closer you will see that there are a number of conflicting signs. Can you see the danger signals? There are red flags popping up all over the place

An understanding of handwriting analysis will quickly show you that this writer is dogmatic and dictatorial, emotionally unstable, bad tempered and possibly even violent! The signs are clear to see. It's even possible to find the underlying reasons for the danger signals and to understand why the writer has so much personal conflict in his life. You'll be surprised to discover how much detail can be extracted from just a single page of handwriting. Of course, to be able to read these signs yourself, you will need to have some understanding of handwriting analysis first. And the good news is that you can!

The Hidden Meaning of Handwriting is a fascinating guide that will introduce you to the world of handwriting analysis. It will open new doors for you! It will help you to develop and expand your own special insight and give you a new understanding of what makes people tick. You will learn how to delve into the secrets of personality. As you learn how to access the deeper message behind the handwriting you will marvel at your new-found understanding of people. The Hidden Meaning of Handwriting is the first part of an exciting and well-illustrated course in handwriting analysis. You will be shown step by step how to use a special and reliable method of analyzing that will give you excellent and accurate results time and time again. This is no guessing game - the information that you will receive is based on sound principles. Get the book right away and start to learn how to read the hidden message behind any handwriting yourself. You will be shown how to:

Gain new understanding of your own personality and find new confidence

Understand even the most difficult of people. You can apply this knowledge to anyone.

Understand hidden feelings and emotions straight off the page!

Uncover signs of conflict and tension in yourself and in others Get to know the real character, nature and sincerity of the person who wrote to you. This is info that you will use again and again.

Know where your rivals are coming from so that you can never be taken by surprise. See generosity and gentleness where you least expected it. Sometimes there really is a heart of gold in the crustiest of exteriors! You will be able to find it.

Recognize intelligence, aggression, confidence and more Identify the signs of low self-esteem. Just this one insight alone will show you the cause of many a problem.

Identify selfishness, inhibition, vitality, energy and many other personality traits.

You will even be able to discover what your ancestors were really like! These are important insights. Your friends will find it totally fascinating. You'll astound them with your ability to see into their personalities. All this and more will be possible when you own The Hidden Meaning of Handwriting

The Hidden Meaning of Handwriting is the stand-alone first part of a fascinating course on handwriting analysis. It will inspire you and give you new insight into different people from all walks of life. You will be shown special techniques that will enable you to interpret the meaning of handwriting with remarkable accuracy. You will be given the tools and all the guidance you need to start analyzing handwriting on your own. But you will not find it overloaded with unnecessary detail. All the information is specific, easy to understand and use. Most importantly, it is presented in such a way that the principles can be easily applied to any sample of handwriting. And you will be able to verify your new-found knowledge by testing it on the handwriting of people you know. The course is liberally illustrated and includes samples of handwriting of some famous personalities. Each sample is carefully described and fully explained. To give you an idea of the contents, here is just a small sampling of some of the many aspects covered: CONTENTS OF THE COURSE Analyzing signatures can be a minefield. But if you truly want to find out what your signature reveals about your secret self I’ll show you how to do it hassle-free. Find out what your written letter "I" says about your self-esteem and confidence. Learn how to interpret this correctly and avoid throwing your whole profile out of focus. Find out why 98% of people have the wrong idea about untidy handwriting. Discover how you can avoid falling into this trap so that you don’t end up with a prejudiced and misleading personality profile Discover a sure-fire way to identify extroversion and introversion from any handwriting sample Find out which signs to look for if you want to access the secrets of anyone’s temperament. Failure to master these simple but important steps will totally ruin your report.

Lower loops can be indicative of your libido. But ascribing lower loops purely to libido is one of the worst mistakes you can make in your personality report. Find out how to avoid this mistake and discover some really fascinating answers. Learn the correct but rarely known facts about left-slanted or backhand writing if you want to avoid the mistakes made by 90% of handwriting “gurus” Discover amazing insights about rhythm in handwriting that will breathe real vitality into your personality report and bring it alive! If you’re having problems analyzing handwriting that is illegible you're probably looking at the wrong process. I’ll show you how to analyze any type of handwriting – legible or illegible. How to discover amazing new insights about your social relationships and your place in society. If you find it difficult to identify intelligence and mental attitude in handwriting you're probably looking at the wrong clues. I’ll show you how easy it is to press the right buttons in order to get the most revealing answers. When you truly understand the meaning of pressure in handwriting the graphological lights go on. Find out how to get this one thing right, and you’ll be way ahead of the rest who will continue to battle with it. There are a few simple things that you’ll need to know about i-dots and t-strokes in your handwriting. It’s very easy but few people apply this correctly. When you know how, you’ll be well in advance of most other students of handwriting. And this is only the beginning! "The Hidden Meaning of Handwriting" will put you in touch with the real essence of personality! All the handwriting samples are displayed exactly where you need them so you'll see the whole analysis process come alive as you read. You'll find it fascinating and exciting to see a complete personality unfold before your eyes. Years of research have gone into this course. I know that it will give you great value and that very special insight into personality that others only dream of. I have no doubt you will have as much inspiration and enjoyment from analyzing handwriting as I had in writing this course.

The History of English Handwriting (Introducing a Book

Thompson’s History of English Handwriting charts the development of the distinctive, and often very beautiful, English scripts, beginning with the introduction of half uncials by Irish monks in the seventh century. Although manuscripts from Rome and elsewhere on the Continent influenced English handwriting, it displayed unique characteristics which even the Norman Conquest did not completely obliterate. The basis of this book is a paper delivered to the Bibliographical Society in 1899 and printed in the Society’s Transactions the following year. It has been revised by Gerrish Gray who has taken the opportunity to increase the number of illustrations from eighteen to forty-eight. Transcriptions have been added to eight of these, making the book a useful introduction to English palaeography. Sources of illustrations include Bibles, psalters, chronicles, charters and literary manuscripts. Sir Edward Maunde Thompson (1840–1929) was educated at Rugby and University College, Oxford. Lack of money forced him to leave the University without taking a degree, and in 1861 he found employment at the British Museum as assistant to Sir Anthony Panizzi, the Principal Librarian. He transferred to the

Department of Manuscripts in 1862, being made Assistant Keeper in 1871. He was made Keeper of Manuscripts in 1878 and Principal Librarian in 1888. His highly-regarded Introduction to Greek and Latin Palaeography was first published in 1893 and revised in 1912.Sandra Fisher