Han Nom calligraphy: Not just an art form, but also a culture.

In late 1995 and early 1996, 27 years ago, I was assigned to write a documentary script for the 40th anniversary of the Faculty of Literature. In the introduction to the Classical Chinese and Vietnamese Studies program, I wanted to include a scene of Classical Chinese and Vietnamese students practicing calligraphy. I immediately asked the faculty members, but none of them knew how to hold a brush. What could I do?
At that time, in Hanoi, only a few people still practiced calligraphy. Mr. Hong Thanh would write calligraphy and sell it at 62-64 Ba Trieu Street, near the wall of Kim Dong Publishing House, attracting a steady stream of customers every Tet (Lunar New Year). Mr. Le Xuan Hoa usually wrote at the Temple of Literature - National University every spring. Mr. Nguyen Van Bach wrote at home; his calligraphy was precious and rare, only accessible to close friends. Playwright Cao Mat often wrote on the steps of the Army Literature and Arts Magazine, frequently breaking bamboo branches to make pens to mimic the "flying white" strokes. Painter Le Quoc Viet, skilled in both calligraphy and Chinese calligraphy, wrote for fun, giving gifts to friends and creating paintings. After doing some research, I went to Principal Phung Huu Phu's office. He was a highly talented, artistic, and practical manager. After listening to my presentation on calligraphy and the professional training of students in the Han Nom (Classical Chinese and Vietnamese) studies, he pondered for a moment and said:
- That's great! A brilliant idea! The school just received the third floor of building C4, Me Tri Dormitory, intending to allocate it entirely to the Military Science department, but I'm giving you a corner room to do whatever you want with. Are you done?
Overjoyed, I went to get the room key and began planning to establish a Calligraphy Club. I pulled out stacks of leftover university exam papers from under my desk; if I ran out, I went to Professor Dinh Gia Duc's house to ask for old newspapers he'd brought back from the department. I bought a bag of pens and ink from the Old Quarter to start learning calligraphy. Students from the Han Nom 40-41 department could join, and anyone interested could participate. We'd just go to the room, grab a pen, and draw whatever we wanted.
At its peak, the group had members such as Nguyen Van Thang, Nguyen Duc Dung, Nguyen Van Thanh, Tran Trong Duong, Pham Van Tuan, Nguyen To Ly, Quach Thu Hien, Nguyen Van Thuc, To Lan, Phung Minh Hieu… These were students majoring in Han Nom Studies from the 40th to 45th cohorts.
It was difficult to invite the teacher myself. So I went to the Institute of Han Nom Studies to ask. Luckily, when I got there, I saw Mr. Nguyen Xuan Dien busily practicing writing, his pen as thin as a chopstick, the strokes slanted but regular. I asked for two lines of poetry by Du Fu that I love very much: I suggested that Xuan Dien be the instructor for the next class. Dien laughed loudly:
- How can I teach you, sir? I've only been studying for three months.
I invited Mr. Le Xuan Hoa to teach us the first strokes of the pen, but after a few sessions, we ran out of ideas. Fortunately, Nguyen Van Thanh had studied with his grandfather since childhood, so his handwriting was already solid, and he had been carefully trained, so we taught each other.
Artist Le Quoc Viet spends more time walking around and giving instructions. Le Quoc Viet's strength lies in his artistic abilities, which allow him to handle space with great subtlety; not every calligrapher standing before a sheet of paper possesses that artistic eye.
As soon as we finished drawing the calligraphy, we held exhibitions in the school and in the department. And, more daringly, or perhaps due to some misguided advice, we held an exhibition at the Temple of Literature - National University. I remember most vividly that time, after the calligraphy was hung up, Professor Kieu Thu Hoach pulled my sleeve towards the hanging paintings:
- Look, is this what you call an exhibition? The letters are all mismatched, here they are. The letters are all hunched over, here they are. The letters have crooked spines, right? The letters are limping, here they are. And these letters are hunched over, no different from "Old Man Cau the beggar."
I was mortified, but I'd already hung it up. Ignoring the warnings, I proceeded with the opening ceremony as usual.
Then, gradually, they became wiser and each chose a style they liked to practice: footwork, sealwork, walking, cursive… It was up to them.
The movement began to spread to many universities such as the University of Education, the Diplomatic Academy, the University of Foreign Trade, the University of Culture, etc., creating a large-scale calligraphy movement. And from then on, the streets around the Temple of Literature gradually became calligraphy streets, becoming increasingly crowded throughout the spring month.
One time, I was almost home from a spring festival when my phone rang:
- Come here and settle this, teacher. They're arguing.
I turned my car around and found the whole group sitting in a pub. The situation was very tense. It turned out they were arguing about two "schools" of calligraphy: "imitation" and "abstract." The students from the Foreign Trade and Education faculties followed the "imitation" school, focusing on technique rather than creation. The humanities students, on the other hand, followed the "abstract" school, arguing that if you just imitate, you'll never succeed in life, and you should develop your own style.
I broke up the drinking session and suggested everyone do whatever they wanted, as long as it looked good.
I called my colleagues in the field of Sino-Vietnamese studies and suggested they practice calligraphy in Nôm script, reasoning that, as Hoàng Xuân Hãn once said, the Vietnamese language is largely of Chinese origin. Nôm script is similar, although its phonetic structure is clearer. Therefore, a piece of Nôm script would allow those with a background in Sino-Vietnamese calligraphy to grasp the meaning through its visual representation. For example, the sentence: "A few raindrops fall from scattered pepper plants" would likely be understood entirely by the artistically presented characters.
The club shifted its focus to abstract calligraphy and began organizing creative sessions.
The first task was for the group to assign each other to translate English, Chinese, and French documents on contemporary painting for professional exchange. After that, they focused on creating their own artwork.
Two weeks later, I received a phone call to go across the river to where Le Quoc Viet was renting a place to "inspect" the artwork. I brought my son along to film. When I arrived, oh my God! There was paper everywhere and…alcohol. The guys were shirtless, wearing shorts, scattered here and there. Over 100 bizarre calligraphy pieces were displayed everywhere. Whether they were beautiful or not was beside the point, but they were certainly unusual.
The story goes that there wasn't enough space to dry the paintings on the porch, so they spread them all out in the yard. The next morning, the calligraphy looked very unusual. It had multi-layered, overlapping color streaks, but completely different from the multi-colored ink used in Japanese calligraphy. The layers of color were more free, spontaneous, and much more handcrafted. Inspired by this, the brothers used a natural biological substance to create this strange and unique neutral color (this hasn't been revealed yet as it's a trade secret).

In a flash, the calligraphy of that pioneer became known internationally. To restore the calligraphy, domestic techniques were insufficient; they had to go all the way to Guangxi to manually restore each piece. They kept it a secret, so they would deliver the work today and pick it up tomorrow, working all night. But just two days later, several calligraphers from Beijing arrived. Upon inquiry, they learned that the workshop owner had called to inform them that a group of calligraphers from Hanoi were creating something very unusual and wanted to come for an exchange. From there, Tien Ve's calligraphy met an appraisal engineer and broker who signed a contract for the creation and sale of his works. Vietnamese calligraphy has been exhibited in many different countries. Recently, there seems to have been a lull in student interest regarding calligraphy. To commemorate the 50th anniversary of our department, we have proposed that successful calligraphers return to teach future generations this art form, which is very well-suited to our training goals.