Ink impressions

As I delved deeper into my explorations, I found my self inherently drawn to ink as a primary medium. My research into the historical contexts of scriptwriting consistently highlighted the significance of ink and bamboo reed pens. These traditional tools were more than mere instruments; they were conduits of cultural expression, bearing the weight of history and the essence of communication.

Ink, in this context, transcends its conventional role. It’s not just a medium for writing;it embodies permanence, memory, and the irrevocable nature of expression. Each application of ink onto a surface is a deliberate act—a bold statement that leaves an indelible mark. When ink saturates paper, it doesn’t just create words or images; it captures moments, emotions, and fragments of time that persist long after their inception. This permanence aligns seamlessly with the themes of memory and loss, encapsulating remnants of communication that endure even as the original messages fade.

Given that my project grapples with the lost aspects of scripts, ink naturally became a metaphor for the tangible vestiges of what has vanished. It mirrors the transient nature of existence, where each ink stroke asserts presence while simultaneously acknowledging impending absence. Moreover, ink’s inherent fluidity and unpredictability allow it to convey nuances of emotion and movement, offering a depth that rigid mediums often lack. This duality—precision intertwined with spontaneity—makes ink an ideal medium to express the complexities of human experience, especially the tension between remembrance and forgetfulness, articulation and silence.

To physically manifest these concepts, I began experimenting with 3D milled letters, meticulously crafted to represent both individual characters and intricate conjunct letters. Utilising these tangible forms, I embarked on a journey of exploration, employing various stamping techniques to capture their impressions on paper.

The choice of paper played a pivotal role in this exploration. I experimented with a diverse range—from coarse, textured varieties to smooth, delicate ones. Each type interacted uniquely with the ink. For instance, absorbent papers would draw in the ink swiftly, creating deep, saturated impressions, while smoother papers allowed the ink to sit atop the surface, leading to more pronounced, sometimes unpredictable patterns. This variability underscored the dynamic relationship between medium and material.

In terms of technique, I varied the pressing methods. Gentle presses resulted in faint, ethereal impressions, suggesting the elusive nature of memories and the fading facets of the script. Conversely, applying firm pressure yielded bold, assertive marks, symbolising the enduring aspects of cultural heritage. The angle and duration of each press further influenced the outcome, with some impressions showcasing complete forms while others revealed fragmented, broken letters.

Through this iterative process, each stamped impression became more than just an artistic expression; it was a dialogue between the past and present, a testament to the impermanence of cultural artefacts, and a reflection on the fluidity of memory. The unpredictable nature of ink, combined with the deliberate crafting of 3D letters and the varied textures of paper, culminated in a body of work that speaks to the heart of my project—honouring what has been lost while acknowledging the ever-evolving landscape of language and culture.

Another feedback I received was to try ink impressions using milled conjunctions. The narrative of ink is strong, and coupled with the conjunction it builds on the idea of what’s lost. Impressions of a feature/trait of a script that got lost in the quest of modernisation. To get these done I covered up my cluster blocks in ink and wrapped newsprint paper around it. Newsprint paper was the most malleable of the papers, it would easily wrap around the letter and get impressions of every corner. It was interesting to unfold it later and see how the impression came. The most interesting thing is that it created a completely new impression each time. There was very less chance of repetition as long as the paper was being crumpled around it randomly. Here are some explorations.

These outcomes weren’t mere technical anomalies; they echoed the fragmented state of linguistic traditions and the pieces of cultural narratives that have been lost overtime.