Sho (書) is both the practice and the appreciation of handwritten texts. It is, of course, perfectly possible to appreciate calligraphy without actually practicing it, just as it is possible to be a connoisseur of music without being able to play an instrument. However, through the practice of calligraphy, our ability to appreciate the work of others increases manifold.
For those who are serious about developing their calligraphic skill, the study of classics is essential. First and foremost, it broadens and deepens one’s powers of ingenuity. Studying classics enables us to encounter hitherto unknown techniques, forms of kanji, line shapes, weightings, and distributions, and compositional solutions. With practice, these become internalized and available for us to use when we write our own original compositions.
Our eyes and arms are not the only beneficiaries of this kind of practice. To reproduce the shapes we see when presented with a classic, we deduce the way in which they were written: the speed, pressure, and angle of the brush; the fluidity in changes of direction and the connectedness of lines; the intent of the original calligrapher.
The second benefit of studying classics is that it allows us to gain a deeper appreciation of the work of other calligraphers than we could ever hope to acquire by just looking at it. Pieces which appear to be unrefined, arbitrary, possibly even childlike turn out to be masterpieces of originality demanding a high degree of skill to replicate them.
This is something the author of this article has experienced on more than one occasion, most notably with the work of the Song-dynasty calligrapher Kouteiken (黄庭堅, Huang Tingjian). At first glance, I was less than impressed: the characters appeared awkward and irregularly distributed, as though hurriedly jotted down with no aesthetic sense. At the time, I was submitting my work every month to the Kyuuryuu Calligraphy Society, one or two pieces of which would be studies of classics selected by the head of the society. One month, Kouteiken’s famous Chinese-style poem in running script (行書伏波神祠詩巻, gyousho-jouha-shinshi-shikan) was the prescribed classic. It only took a few sheets of practice for my opinion to change completely. Now, he is one of my favorite calligraphers, and I jump at the chance to see his original pieces in exhibitions.
Part of the Chinese-style poem in running script by Kouteiken (黄庭堅).
A further benefit of the study of classics is that through it we learn about the calligraphers themselves, the periods in which they lived, and the materials they used. Reading the commentaries on classics written by experts can reveal aspects that would otherwise not be obvious. For example, the Yuan-dynasty calligrapher Choumoufu (趙孟頫, Zhao Mengfu) was admired by the Mongol emperor of China because he wrote in a very conservative style. In this way, the foreign emperor wanted to show the Han people that he respected their history and cultural traditions and thereby gain their support. As a result of the emperor’s favor, Choumoufu’s calligraphy undoubtedly gained greater status than it would have done otherwise.
Part of Epitaph for Chou E in regular script (仇鍔墓誌銘銘巻, kaisho-kyuugaku-boshimei-kan) by Choumoufu (趙孟頫).
The study of classics in calligraphy is known as rinsho (臨, rin: to look out on, to face; 書, sho: writing). Rinsho can be subdivided into three distinct types.
Keirin (形臨)
(形, kei: shape, form; 臨, rin: to look out on, to face)
This is the most basic form of rinsho and an essential stepping-stone to the other forms. The goal of keirin is to replicate the shapes of the lines and the characters in the original. In keirin, one keeps a copy of the original in view whilst writing.
Irin (意臨)
(意, i: idea, mind; 臨, rin: to look out on, to face)
Having practiced the shapes in the original, one moves on to trying to write it with the intent and style of the original calligrapher: this is irin. To do this, one must have practiced at least a significant portion (if not all) of the original and observed the common forms and techniques as well as noting the degree of variation in the piece. At this stage, it is still a good idea to have a copy of the original to hand, but rather than looking at the shapes of individual lines and characters, one uses the original to see if the overall impression of one’s writing is true to the spirit of the original.
Hairin (背臨)
(背, hai: back (part of body), height; 臨, rin: to look out on, to face)
The most advanced stage of rinsho is hairin. Now, one no longer looks at a copy of the original, but tries to write it from memory. To do this, one can either use the printed form of the characters (活字, katsuji) in the original or write other characters—maybe a poem or a saying.
Hairin is the basis of original composition (創作, sousaku). After practicing a piece or several pieces by a single calligrapher, one can then try using their techniques to write one’s own pieces. Through extensive rinsho, one acquires the techniques of multiple calligraphers and combines them into one’s own original style.
Different teachers and schools of calligraphy place different levels of emphasis on rinsho. Here at Yousetsu Bunsha, rinsho is a fundamental component of practice. Not only that but we believe that to truly get the essence of a piece of calligraphy, one must practice it thoroughly. For example, the author of this article devoted four years to the exhaustive study of Choumouryouhi (張猛龍碑), one of the classics of Northern Wei-period (北魏時代, hokugi jidai) kaisho. Each week, I would write 24 characters and only move on to the next 24 with the blessing of my teacher.
Of course, the benefits of rinsho can be got without going to such extreme lengths. Some people prefer to “chop and change” regularly, maybe studying a classic for a month or just a week at a time. At the beginning of your study, it is a good idea to practice a range of different classics to allow you to discover the styles and calligraphers that most appeal to you. We hope that the samples of rinsho on this site will help you on your way.
One final—but important—note: Rinsho should not become mindless and practiced for its own sake. It is—as mentioned above—an important stepping-stone to original composition; however, it is only a stepping-stone. When choosing which classics to study, do it on the basis of selecting the styles that you would most like to incorporate into your own expression.