“Embrace the wobble,” Laura Edralin, a calligraphy teacher, told me as I wrote something that could only be described as an extremely wobbly “K.” It was my first calligraphy class, and, sitting alongside other students who seemed to know what they were doing, I was feeling very out of my depth.
I’m not particularly good at painting, pottery, puppet-making or any other kind of art-practice that I’ve seen friends pursue, to unwind and express themselves creatively.
In fact, I never would have signed up for a calligraphy class had it not been for a New York Times assignment.
As a breaking news reporter in London, my focus is filing articles with speed. Since I type much faster than I write by hand, I write by hand less and less. And when I do write by hand, I later can have trouble deciphering what I’ve scribbled.
But I’ve always been curious about calligraphy. Growing up, I had watched my father use it to address birthday cards and thank-you notes. So when I started to see calligraphy videos pop up on social media, I wondered: In the digital age, why is this ancient art form experiencing a revival, particularly among young people?
Through my reporting, I learned that the revival was happening, in part, because of social media. On TikTok, users can find how-to videos or watch mesmerizing clips of experienced calligraphers at work. More and more people are posting about it: There were 239 percent more posts with #calligraphy in June 2024 than in June 2023.
Online classes are also on the rise. More than 10,000 customers at Michael’s, the largest arts and crafts chain in North America, signed up for online classes about lettering between January 2023 and March 2024 — nearly three times the number that signed up during the same period a year ago, when about the same number of classes were offered.
After taking that two-hour, in-person calligraphy class in London, I could see the appeal. Unlike with painting with oils or throwing pottery, calligraphy has a low barrier to entry — all you need is a felt-tip pen and a piece of paper. (For what it’s worth: Ms. Edralin recommended getting started with Pentel brush sign pens and Rhodia paper, though practicing with a pencil and any piece of scrap paper works too.)
After tracing out all the letters of the alphabet, in uppercase and lowercase, I wrote a lopsided, curly “let’s celebrate” on a card, to no one in particular. It was not pretty. But as the other students and I admired one another’s writing, I felt something unexpected: Delight.
It was thrilling to try something new, to not be very good at it, and for that ineptitude to not matter at all.
In calligraphy, imperfections make the final product special, distinct from anything that could be generated by a computer. Ms. Edralin says that when she hears students criticizing their lettering, she encourages them to practice self-compassion, something that does not come naturally to many of us.
My colleague Veronica Chambers, the editor of Projects and Collaborations, who wrote the book, “The Joy of Doing Things Badly,” described how the popularity of social media means that many of us are watching people do things really well all the time, whether it’s calligraphy or dancing.
By watching but not doing, we miss the quiet joy of trying something for ourselves, especially something that we don’t expect ourselves to be great at, she said.
Veronica told me she tries to approach new things with a “childlike wonder.”
“Those kinds of feelings are hard to come by in our grown-up lives,” she said. “You want to get older, and you want to get wiser, but I think the happiest grown-ups are the ones that have a sense of wonder and a sense of play.”
I still haven’t used calligraphy to address any birthday cards or thank-you notes. But in the months since the class, I’ve scribbled down dozens of “J’s” into the margins of papers as I listen to calls or take breaks from writing.
A student in the calligraphy class, Ravi Jain, a data analyst in his 20s, told me that the development of artificial intelligence programs that can replicate handwriting was not a deterrent for him. He said he was drawn to calligraphy because nothing could replicate the meaning that comes with a card in which each letter is handcrafted with love, patience and care.
As I start a stint in Brussels this week, filling in for the bureau chief, I’m reflecting on the lessons I learned from practicing calligraphy. In writing about a new subject, in a new city, I am trying to lean into the joy of doing something different, with a goal of openness — not perfection. I’m embracing curiosity, adventure and yes, even some wobbles.
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