Width

(My wife and I continued to talk about calligraphy.)

“My dear, you are repeating yourself indirectly: You prefer Chu Suiliang.” Vivian smiled.

“Quite true. As I always say, handwriting is a very good reflection of one’s personality,” I said, “Although calligraphy is not a subject suitable for quantitative analysis, I can give you a non-scientific one of Zhao and Chu.”

“Yes…”

“When you look at the writings of Zhao Mengfu and his famous great grandfather, the Emperor Huizong of Song (宋徽宗), their words all appear slightly flat – I mean they are wide but not as tall – and their transverse strikes are almost always more narrow than perpendicular ones. In contrast, if you come to take a look on Chu Suiliang’s writings, they are taller but less wide – in fact you could feel a sense of strength behind the words.”

“Well, I agree that’s the impression I have, but what’s the science behind all these?” my wife insisted for an explanation.


“Simple. You know, the anatomical lever system of our arm has an intrinsic property: It takes less effort to make a horizontal strike than a verticle one when we write. The habbit of scribbling Chinese words wide and short, therefore, reflects the tendency of giving up virtue and value for the exchange of pleasure and comfort.”

PS. Of course there is always a price to pay for the preservation of virtue and value, and occasionally the price is unbelievably high – if you remember what happened to Chu Suiliang when Wu Zhao (武曌) seized the crown.

PPS. I shall no elaborate on the analogy between Zhao’s weak but obsessive handwriting and the modern protocol-based medical practice, and would leave this topic to your own imagination and interpretation.