NPO法人J−LAF（ジェイラフ）カリグラフィーを軸とした日本における文字芸術のイベントを開催します。

This is a story about my experience when I worked for the film production of 47 Ronin from January to July 2011.

I had a phone call from a member of staff in the film production team who asked me to join them on their set decoration team for six months. At that time, I was employed by a small company so at first I declined the offer, but they called me again the following week. Fortunately I could be a freelancer because I've got my residential visa. I decided to resign my job and join them.

I worked for the Shepperton Studio, the sister studio of Pinewood where all the 007 and other big films were shot. They are both located west of London, near Heathrow Airport, and I live in east London. Travel took two hours by train. I also worked in Budapest, Hungary for ten days where some of the sets were located.

The work routine was quite similar to normal office hours. It started at 8 a.m. and finished at 6 p.m. with an hour for lunch and frequent tea breaks, but there were some days when I had to stay late (until 9-10 p.m.) or work through weekends. There was a very clear hierarchy in the production. The employer was the film production company who employed a group of freelancers for this particular production. It seemed that many of the staff had personal connections to each other, or often had worked together in the past.

My main job was to be a teammate of the set decoration team and write letters in the style of Edo era, translate them and understand what they are, so that I can explain them to non-Japanese colleagues. Materials varied from paper to all sorts of fabrics and woods. Also, I used not only Japanese sumi-ink, but paints too. I also wrote on small things like tiny labels, boxes, or books, as well as larger things such as eighteen-foot banners and shop signs on doors, etc. Almost everything I did everyday was a new experience and challenge.

The biggest quantity I had to deal with was the shipping containers and lanterns. For the containers, I had to write and stencil over the uneven surface similar to a straw mat. And for the lanterns I wrote letters onto them directly with paint. I had never dreamt that it would be so hard to make a decent line on a pleated surface! I felt desperate (and a bit fed up) having to meet a deadline with no one to help me complete this massive task, so I cheekily sneaked my niece’s name or mine onto some. On the other hand, I became fond of working on fabrics. One of my favorites was the six-foot silk banners with Buddhists prayers written on.

Researching became a part of my daily work too. I had to look for the wording to write, the style of things such as scrolls or books, certain kinds of Buddhist prayers and much more. Once I got to know my colleagues, they often asked me to check things we were designing. The way to do seppuku, the lighting system of Kabuki stage, the variety of fans, chopsticks, cosmetics, and also all the religious decorations – Buddhist prayer icons, Shinto shrine decorations, things around grave yards etc. Even the art department, who made all the buildings and worked next to us, asked for my opinion quite often. Fortunately, my family has always been fond of antiques, traditional plays, ancient buildings, and Buddhist statues, so I enjoyed researching and adding to my stock of knowledge.

An 'instructor of calligraphy' may sound somewhat too important, but this also became a part of my work as I got to know people I was working with. Hiroyuki Sanada, who played Oishi, came to join the production way before the shooting started. We often talked and sometimes exchanged opinions as we were the only Japanese on the same floor at that time, and he was interested in things we were making. When it was decided that the actors should take a short Japanese calligraphy lesson to learn how to hold the brush, etc., they chose me as the instructor since they knew me personally.

I showed some examples I collected of handwritten documents from this era as well as some actual handwritten signatures of the 47 ronin. I also showed the actors how samurai warriors should hold and move brushes when they write and the posture they should keep, and we tried them out together. They needed to be able to write their signatures, so I passed some samples of those around. We had a session once in Budapest and another in Windsor Forest, just a day before they shot the scene.

At the first session, Keanu Reeves, who played Kai, stopped and asked me why all those documents and references look so different from each other, and he also wondered if they were all in the same Japanese. He was the only non-Japanese in the main cast. We Japanese have some kind of experience in writing with a brush as part of our education (which I think is terribly important and hopefully will continue in the future) so we all have some images or vague memories of how they look, but Reeves didn’t of course. That difference probably confused him, so I explained a bit more to him separately and tried spending enough time to actually write the letters. The other actors including Tadanobu Asano, who played Kira, and Rinko Kikuchi, who played a witch, also popped in and enjoyed this rare opportunity to try Japanese calligraphy. We spent thirty to forty minutes on this.

We had another session at Windsor Forest, but that was just for refreshing their practice of using brushes. We set a foldable table on the slope right next to the shooting location. I showed some documents or samples of signatures again and checked their brush movement. Jin Akanisi, who played Chikara, was not with us at Budapest so that was his first experience. Reeves hadn’t decided which hand he should use. He is left-handed, but he was unsure if he should act as if he is right-handed. Also, as his character is imaginary, there was an issue of deciding which character should be used to write his name. We have three different characters to write our language, Hiragana, Katakana and Kanji (the Chinese characters). Normally we all use Kanji for our names, but what about Kai? The script was in only English so there had never been any Kanji for Kai before. I had a character of Kai as 魁 in my mind and I suggested this. Reeves and Sanada decided to go for it. (In the first script Reeves' name was Hiro but he didn’t like it. I was asked to make new suggestions by Reeves' translator and Reeves picked Kai.)

Sanada and Reeves had obviously done some practice before the shooting. I felt almost sorry we can’t see their writing on a big screen. I was surprised at Reeves especially as he had only had one or two days to practice after we decided to go for Kanji, but his writing was fluent and nicely formed. I was amazed how hard they worked to go further. I was there with them on the shooting day at the forest, looking after the tools and other things.

I also did a similar thing with the second unit, who was in charge of close-ups or other individual shots. This time their focus was the actual writing. My ‘students’ were all extra actors whose hands had to represent each of the main casts' and they were all beginners of calligraphy. They gave us two days to learn. I showed similar references and models of each signature and then we had to get on with actual writing. I was there with them while they shot the extra’s hands, too. Is it possible to produce decent calligraphy to be seen on a silver screen after two days practice? But they, non-Japanese shooting crews, would not be able to tell which writing is good enough or not. I tried to talk to one of the directors and we also shot the close-ups of my tip of the brush, without my female fingers in the frame. It was very interesting to see the cameraman trying different lenses, the lighting crew adjusting the lighting each time, and how others such as the make-up crew were working.

Helping to shop for more 'props' became part of my job as well. Way before the shooting started the buyer and designer had been to Japan to buy things which filled our big storage warehouse. These ranged from chopsticks to cupboards or palanquins. But as the shooting went along, we needed more stuff – millions of lanterns for a start, traditional candles, more fans, handles for sliding doors, fabrics for tatami mats. We had to order those from Japanese sellers, so we made phone calls at 6 a.m. in the morning to Japan, myself ordering them in Japanese, with a buyer talking to me in English right next to me. I also did some filing and translation of those receipts or bills.

Everyday there were some problems. I was not good at the job called ‘clear’ which we had to make sure that what I wrote was not touching on any copyright. Most of the time the designer just gave me a very rough idea what to write, so I decided what to say. It was my duty to ‘clear’ those each time. Names of casts, poems, prayers, names of shops… I had to submit the documents that had both Japanese and English to those in charge, then start working after I was given the okay. But I often forgot, then they all had to wait for me to do ‘clearance’. This reminded me of the fact that the characters and letters are in fact, information.

Also, I often wished I could have had someone else who was a Japanese to talk about things. I would have felt much easier and less pressured when I had to decide what to write, if I could have talked about or discussed the art, culture or language (because the speaking and writing language of Edo is completely different to current one).

What I felt on a daily basis was that you need to work as a team. Miscommunication or misunderstanding could often spoil the work you did in days. And I had to be in charge of whatever I was making, to explain them to the other members or bosses (as they can’t read Japanese). On the other hand I enjoyed these hard jobs. You get paid for writing your letters all day long for seven months. At late stages, I almost felt my arms moving by themselves to make the brush strokes. Often those letters were much better than the precisely prepared and designed ones. I could almost say that quantity wins over quality.

It was brilliant to meet other professionals, too. ―Joiners, draftsmen, model makers who could create anything by looking at references, painters who could draw really anything, special effects crew who could make the right amount and kind of smoke or fires, camera people who could control ‘monster’ like 3D cameras and the lighting crew who worked very close to with them. As a film lover and a fellow craftsman, it was my pleasure and treasure to be able to see all these professionals who were trying their best to make one film. Lastly, I learnt that you need to be fit to survive in a busy film studio!

Everyday there were ups and downs. I started my career as a calligrapher when I came to London in 2001, and had been working in a small studio. More than three hundred people were working on the filmmaking sets and different things were happening every minute. Looking back now, there are things I’m still not sure about the results of what I did. It is a shame the film itself was not commercially successful too. I cannot help remembering that Great East Japan Earthquake occurred on the next day I taught the actors to write in Budapest. But after surviving seven months, with lots of compliments from the professional colleagues, I can say that I have been useful to this project. Someone needs your skill and you do your best – maybe this is what work is all about.

Please have a look at my blog also about the work details or back stage stories.
http://calligraphy47.blogspot.co.uk/

Keiko Shimoda
Born in Hyogo, Japan. She started to learn Japanese calligraphy when she was three years old. After graduating college, she worked for a shipping company for eight years in Kobe till 2000. After leaving her job, she got an apprentice job for one year as a graphic designer and calligrapher at Kirsten Burke Calligraphy Studio, Greenwich, London in 2001. She then started working for Mandalay Wedding Stationery, which Kirsten Burke launched in 2002. She started taking private clients around 2010 and helping other professional calligraphers in London. In 2012, she worked as a Japanese calligrapher for the film 47 Ronin for seven months. Since then, she has worked on commission for filmmaking on several occasions. Films she was involved in include Skyfall and Alice Through the Looking Glass. She now works as a freelance Japanese and alphabet calligrapher in London. Clients include Mulberry, Burberry, Jimmy Choo, Claridge's, Christie's and more. A member of SSI (Society of Scribes and Illuminators) and a committee member of SLLA (South London Lettering Association).

Keiko Shimoda's website：http://www.j-wcalligraphy.co.uk/
Kirsten Burke： http://www.kirstenburke.co.uk/

A subjective story of living as a calligrapher in Oslo for 25 years

Upon arriving in Oslo I started taking on various commissions, ranging from names on diplomas to book covers and headings. This was during the transition period where old methods of reproduction would gradually make way to new ones.

I haven't yet had the privilege of doing anything in letterpress, though I have admired many books printed in letterpress from Gutenberg's time up until today. But I have used Letraset, photo setting and old photographic techniques (PMTs). Just after returning home in 1989 I started teaching in a private school for graphic design. During the first of two years the students had two days a week doing calligraphy and lettering. The idea was to give the students an understanding of forming letters with the broad edged pen, in order for them to gain a better understanding of typography. I arranged two workshops with teachers from abroad before the school went bankrupt: One with Julian Waters and one with Brody Neuenschwander.

The Mac and the PC rapidly took over the production of typography and graphic material. Having experienced art directors setting Futura Extra Bold next to my renaissance italic and other more or less horrifying typographic violations I was exalted to get my first Mac, and some beautiful Adobe Originals typefaces: Adobe Garamond, Minion, Trajan, Lithos. Finally (or so I thought) I should be able to create my own compositions integrating calligraphy and typography. That was not always the case: Typography had become everyman's craft, and in the early days of the Mac desktop publishing became somewhat of a nightmare for sensitive and perhaps over-sensitive calligraphers. Still, I taught myself PageMaker, and much later, InDesign, and have been teaching book design for graphic designers alongside the calligraphic practice.

I wrote Hermann Zapf in 1992 and asked him if I could visit him in Darmstadt. He suggested I wrote a handbook of calligraphy for the Norwegian market, and so I did. I designed it as well as I could at the time, although the publisher didn't exactly do a good job proofreading. It really taught me about book design. I concur totally with Jan Tschichold's statement 'I learned more from my mistakes than I ever imagined'. But also 'I regret very much that calligraphy is so little studied in our time among our so called book artists'. And graphic designers, I might add. In 1998 I was hosting four programs on Norwegian television about calligraphy, and I also made a simplified handbook for that program.

I have exhibited several times over the years, using text of my own choosing, with the exception of an exhibition of alphabets which was the result of my work with poetry and my disappointment in the fact that people rarely bothered to read texts that I had written. Making alphabets and presenting them as art may seem futile, as an empty exercise in style, devoid of meaning. Yet we never ask why a Japanese calligrapher repeats the Ensō circle as a contemplative exercise for years and years.

The types of commissions I have had over the years have ranged from book covers ( I have mainly been asked by the authors & not the publishers for some reason), names for packaging (lots of cheese, for some reason), certificates and names on certificates, logos for various companies, titles of various kinds. It goes without saying that many clients have been difficult to work with: It isn't easy to convince someone that some things just ruins letters, and that they should respect your authority, especially when the most common belief is that 'anything goes'. But I have had some really rewarding and nice collaborations, the main one that springs to life is the logo I made for Cappelen Damm.

The two publishers Cappelen (already a large one) and Damm (which had become a large player due to the fact that they bought the rights to publish Harry Potter) were to merge, and I was asked to present sketches for their new logo. They wanted something classical, but with some originality and modernity, having used Trajan in a transitional phase. I presented them with several sketches. The only other people partaking in the process was the CEO, an in house graphic designer and an in house typographer. The whole process went smoothly. I thought it would be a good idea to get the logo digitized, and since I am not too comfortable working with Bezier curves and points I approached Sumner Stone and asked for a quote. I had met Sumner in Ditchling during the Pen to Print seminar a couple of years earlier, and we were in respect of one another's work. After getting his quote for the logo, I first attempted to draw the rest of the letters of the alphabet out of pure curiosity. I then asked what he would charge for digitizing all the drawings. I brought the drawings and his quote, plus my quote for the font, to the publisher, who immediately liked the idea. I made more drawings, as a font consists of much more than the letters on our keyboard. I drew points, commas, question marks, an ampersand, ligatures, special accents,etc., and scanned them. Then they were sent to Sumner, who digitized them in FontLab. I then corrected the drawings, and over a few months of adjusting letters, spacing, adding some characters and incorporating a logo symbol (to be used alongside the word logo), the typeface was done. It is being used for signage on their building and inside the building, as well as for the publishing company's many sub companies. I also suggested placement on books and a color scheme.

Book titles

Something should be said about the Norwegian calligraphy scene. But this is a subjective article about personal experiences, and it would be unfair to say that Norwegian culture has affected my calligraphy. I have worked despite of it, often uphill, meeting many prejudices and obstacles along the way.

Norway got the art of printing at the same time as Greenland, approximately two hundred years after Sweden and Denmark, and we have very few historical manuscripts of a high standard compared with the treasures of the continent. There have been a line of tutors teaching calligraphy and lettering in the school of Arts & Crafts in Oslo, starting with Ivar Bell, who was an influential teacher who corresponded with many known figures in Europe including Jan Tschichold and Max Bill, but whose work is nowhere to be found. He was followed by Herman Bongard (featured in the Calligraphy Review article by Susan Petty), Ottar Helge Johansen, and Jan Pahle. Pahle, Leif Bakke and Are Bjærke have designed book covers and been active in the publishing industry. Leif Frimann Anisdahl, a graphic designer of some standing, had taken classes with Zapf in Copenhagen, worked for Penguin in London, is featured in Erik Lindgren's An ABC Book, and has made several typefaces for large Norwegian companies. Grethe Dobloug designed book covers for Cappelen, and was a former student of Irene Wellington. So was Jacob Rask Arnesen, whose book Levende Skrift is a personal and thrilling manifesto to the calligraphic and typographic world.

Left：Haiku by Inge Haugane, Norway. Two pens.

Two former students of mine completed the course at Roehampton: Julia Vance and Hedvig Brandt. There have been a few others who have taken the course, to my knowledge, but only two work as full time professionals: Julia Vance and Helene Jenssen. The latter is the chairman of Foreningen Skrift, which was formed to promote calligraphy and arrange workshops. Another group based in Bergen is called Kalligrafisk Klubb. I started up a group, Scriptorium, in 1990, but found it hard to run it by myself (we did make one issue of a magazine, Script).

Yet, despite these teachers and practitioners, there was never truly a renaissance for calligraphy in Norway. Perhaps due to the youth of our culture, the scarce population, the lack of respect for aesthetical history and tradition. The status quo today is that basic drawing skills, basic calligraphy & lettering training and basic typographic skills are barely taught at all. There is no understanding for calligraphy or drawing in our graphic design schools, although calligraphy really can be used as the 'life drawing of typography'.

Many tasks lie ahead for us as devotees of this ancient craft and art: We need to assure that calligraphy has a place in education, we need to fight to ensure the survival of handwriting in schools, that people interested in type see the connection between the written and the printed word, and also that art galleries and crafts communities acknowledge that we have a place among them as calligraphers who are not from some distant Medieval times, but that we are in fact exploring new ground, as well as having our roots in the history of our letters. Perhaps ink, pen and paper can be allowed to co exist with computer screens and mobile devices. If you are in doubt, introduce it to kids. Perhaps you will rediscover your own discovery.

Center：Quote by Bob Dylan
Right：Designs

CHRISTOPHER HAANES (b. 1966) is a calligrapher, book-designer, typographer, teacher & author living in Oslo, Norway. He is Scandinavia's only Fellow member of the Society of Scribes and Illuminators (FSSI). He has taught the subjects of calligraphy and typography for more than 20 years, including workshops in England, Holland, Germany, France, Italy, Sweden, Australia, Hong Kong, USA. He has taught at Westerdals School of Communication (former Skolen for Grafisk Design) in Oslo since 1989. He has written articles and essays for D2 (Dagens Næringsliv), Prosa, Numer, Snitt. He is author & designer of five books on calligraphy and typography: Håndbok i kalligrafi (Aschehoug 1994), Kalligrafi (NRK Fale 1998), Bokstavelig (Aschehoug 2004), ABC for voksne go Abstracts (H//O//F 2012). He is working on a Handbook in Calligraphy in English at the moment. Work featured in several Letter Arts Review Annual (a juried magazine for the lettering arts), plus many other Norwegian and international publications.
http://christopherhaanes.com/

A subjective story of living as a calligrapher in Oslo for 25 years


Center：Quote by Rainer Maria Rilke
Right：Book title

My father, Patrick Byrne, an Irishman living in London, gave me a broad edged pen when I was nine years old. I had only briefly met him before. It turned out to be one of those moments which create ripples, felt many years later. It was one of those refill Osmiroid fountain pens with a lever on the side which could be pulled to fill the pen with ink. He demonstrated on a napkin how it could be used to create dense, pointed gothic letters and flourishes on a paper napkin, which has been lost along with who knows how many transient notes and doodles over the years, writings on napkins, beermats, envelopes and receipts. My mother had met my father in Cheltenham in 1963, when she worked there as an au pair. According to my father, his father and grandfather were both ‘calligraphers’, but in the tradition of Irish storytelling he was in the habit of embellishing the truth, which probably was that they simply had nice handwriting. He was an amateur calligrapher himself, and he sent me a few pages of printed exemplars, and eventually Johnston’s Writing & Illuminating, & Lettering from which I tried to rule lines for a manuscript book spread and write a more or less corrupt ‘round hand’. After these initial attempts at calligraphy my pen was put in a drawer for a few years, only to be picked out again during my years at upper secondary school (the Norwegian equivalent being ‘videregående’ school, ages ranging from 15-16 yrs to 17-18 yrs, when I wrote a thesis on ‘The History of Writing'.

Lettering designs

Later, working as a waiter in a café in Oslo, I wrote out ‘today’s dishes’ on a blackboard in the café, as well as bits of poetry in my spare time, quotes from Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Jack Kerouac, Walt Whitman and others using a homemade bamboo pen and pointed brushes as well as my Osmiroid. I also remember going interrailing, getting stranded in a caravan in Assisi for several days , it rained incessantly, I wrote out several verses from the Buddhist Dhammapada. My letterforms were inconsistent, unsharp and uninformed, but my interest in literature and calligraphy had awakened, as well as at least a certain familiarity with the broad edged pen.

I did my first commission for a neighbor, a business card, the calligraphed text being photographically transferred to an aluminum cliché, from which the cards were printed. The letters were written in an ill conceived italic form, and I remember vividly being fascinated with the reproduction itself, as if some strange magic had occurred that had transferred writing to print. This fascination with the connection between the written and the printed word has stayed with me, leading eventually to investigate the (often hidden) relevance of calligraphy to typography, and vice versa.

At the same time, I did a commission for a festival for a small town, LIER 150 ÅR, in which I had a sudden and never-to-be-forgotten encounter with the falseness and arrogance of the commercial advertising industry. I had been told to make a heading for a magazine, but found to my surprise that they had used it as a logo for the whole arrangement, printing it several times in a modified form, where they had themselves tried to put the ÅR (‘years’) inside the 0 of 150, in their own bad writing. It hasn’t been the first time I have encountered violations of copyright laws over the years. Letters are not sacred beings to most people, funny as it may seem.

Right：Rilke's Epitaph, 2010

My father sent me a leaflet from Roehampton Institute (Digby Stuart College) and again one of those ‘rippling moments’ took place. I was equally stunned by the beauty of the calligraphy (the whole leaflet was handwritten by Lindsay Castell) and that such a place even existed: Other people who took a serious interest in calligraphy above an amateur level.

Ann Camp had started the education in calligraphy and bookbinding at Roehampton during the seventies as a program for teachers. Her philosophy is outlined in her essay on education in Heather Child’s Calligraphy Today, 2nd edition. It had evolved into an open program for anyone interested, and had students from several different countries. I was told I needed to put in extra work, as most people who had enrolled had taken evening classes already, something that was non-existent in Norway at the time. I am greatly indebted to Ann Camp, whose keen eye and sharp observations helped me get through a first year which was pretty tedious: I threw away most of my old rusty nibs and materials and started afresh, with solid models and strict practice. It proved to be revelating. My main struggle was with ‘the foundational hand’, which was to be written in approx. 4mm x-height, consistently throughout several MS book pages. I had chosen a Walt Whitman poem. ‘I sit and look out upon’, well, several pages of inconsistent writing. They had a room called ‘the quiet room’ to which I had retreated to practice before making the finished piece. Apparently I made no progress. Then, after many lines of practice something ‘clicked’. I got into a writing rhythm that seemingly carried me along without too many worries. Ann Camp came in a few moments later, and immediately pointed to the exact place where my writing had become effortless. ‘There!, something happened there, did you notice?’.


Book titles

My other tutors included Gaynor Goffe, Tom Perkins, Gerald Fleuss, and Jen Lindsay, as well as visiting tutors including Donald Jackson, John Woodcock, Ann Hechle and Alan Blackman. Tom taught drawn letters and stonecutting, opening up a world of typography for me and pointing to the work of Hermann Zapf, who later had a strong impact on my own work. Gaynor was very good at getting me to ‘stop thinking and start working’, her motto being ‘just do it!’. Jen Lindsay tried, at least, to teach me bookbinding, although I must admit to being genetically indisposed.

Ann Camp suggested I apply for fellowship in my last year (1989), for which I was unanimously elected next to youngest and only (to this day) Scandinavian fellow. I felt that my journey into the field of letters had only just began. I was looking at work by people who used advanced techniques, like rotation of the pen angle, pressure variation, retouching / building up with the corner of the nib. Techniques that were not really taught at Roehampton, at least not consistently (built up ‘versals’ and the Canute Charter hand being exceptions to the rule). Julian Waters, John Stevens and Hermann Zapf were great sources of inspiration.

Lettering designs

CHRISTOPHER HAANES (b. 1966) is a calligrapher, book-designer, typographer, teacher & author living in Oslo, Norway. He is Scandinavia's only Fellow member of the Society of Scribes and Illuminators (FSSI). He has taught the subjects of calligraphy and typography for more than 20 years, including workshops in England, Holland, Germany, France, Italy, Sweden, Australia, Hong Kong, USA. He has taught at Westerdals School of Communication (former Skolen for Grafisk Design) in Oslo since 1989. He has written articles and essays for D2 (Dagens Næringsliv), Prosa, Numer, Snitt. He is author & designer of five books on calligraphy and typography: Håndbok i kalligrafi (Aschehoug 1994), Kalligrafi (NRK Fale 1998), Bokstavelig (Aschehoug 2004), ABC for voksne og Abstracts (H//O//F 2012). He is working on a Handbook in Calligraphy in English at the moment. Work featured in several Letter Arts Review Annual (a juried magazine for the lettering arts), plus many other Norwegian and international publications.

http://christopherhaanes.com/