Margins

The first year we were married, my husband bought me calligraphy lessons for my birthday. It was a moment of inspired gift-giving, one he hasn’t topped in 40 years. (Though I encourage him to keep trying.)

We lived in Kearney, Nebraska, then, and he purchased a place for me in a workshop taught by Arthur Pierce, a man who could turn the alphabet into art.

Our class must have met in Pierce’s studio, because one night I caught a glimpse of a poster-sized picture he’d placed in a room adjacent to ours. The calligraphy portion of the work was written on a deep blue background. The margins around the text were embellished with intricate illustrations, swirls and patterns in glowing colors that drew my eyes back to the words. It was breathtaking.

I’d seen textbook pictures of illuminated manuscripts, the kind with golden letters and medieval creatures. Most of them struck me as creepy. But the embellishments Pierce added to the margins of his work brought the text to life.

I can’t say I mastered calligraphy in the few weeks that I took his class, but Pierce’s artistry still inspires me. He taught us to create beautiful writing, but more importantly, he drew our attention to what happens in the margins. He demonstrated the way in which items at the edge of a work can enhance its overall effect.

I believe that principle applies to more than visual art.   

It’s the moments at the edge of our experiences in life — what happens in the margins, if you will — that bring those experiences to life.

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