Writing Calligraphy with My Left Hand Is a Long Journey of Reconciliation
I’ve been a left-hander in a right-handed world for as long as I can remember — eating with my left hand, playing badminton left-handed, using scissors with my left hand, and yes, writing with my left hand too.
When I was young, my calligraphy was truly terrible. Crooked and shaky, like branches that hadn’t yet grown firm. And messy — because my left hand would naturally drag across the paper as I wrote, before the ink had even dried. My palm would smear everything. The whole page would end up a blur of black.
Back then, I thought I was simply someone who could never get calligraphy right.
Then I studied graphic design, and unexpectedly learned painting techniques along the way. Sketching taught me how to control pressure. Watercolor showed me how to turn a brush and adjust angles. Gradually, I stopped obsessing over whether my brushstrokes were “correct” and started appreciating whether they were beautiful instead.
Painting was like a key that quietly unlocked my interest in calligraphy once more. I realized that characters could be composed like images on a canvas.
So I picked up a brush and started teaching myself. I posted my work on Instagram. People watched. People liked it. And honestly, that felt good.
But I knew I had hit a wall.
My strokes lacked precision. My structures lacked balance. I had come as far as my instincts could take me — and no further.
On a good friend’s advice, I made a decision: I found a teacher and went back to the very beginning.
It wasn’t easy. My teacher’s instructions were built around right-handed techniques — the angles, the rhythms, the pressure points. I had to “translate” all of that into a language my left hand could understand. And my left hand has a mind of its own — its own habits, its own stubbornness. It’s never been an obedient student.
But it was precisely this process of translation that made me truly understand calligraphy for the first time.
Writing with my left hand has never been a gimmick. It’s simply the way I relate to the world — not by following the current, but by finding my own, and then flowing with it.
I’m still learning today. Every piece I create is both a practice session and a conversation with myself.
If you’ve ever felt like you do things a little differently from everyone else, I hope my story reminds you —
It’s okay to take the slower path.
You’ll still find your way.
Thank you for getting to know me.
— Mun Calligraphy
