Creating Pseudo-Chinese Characters and Exploring Their Referential Meanings
In the past few years, I have been working extensively with words, specifically Chinese words suitable for choral settings. While immersed in these works, I have consistently pondered the question: What constitutes a word? In other words, how do we perceive a word? (Here I refer mostly to single-character words.)
Considering that Chinese characters are frequently constructed using various components, and given my experience typing Chinese using Cangjie since the age of 12, I’ve consistently approached the concept of Chinese words with a focus on structure — whether it’s from top to bottom, left to right, or even just a single character.
A long story, starting from 12 years old
Learning how to type in Chinese was a crucial milestone in my learning journey, particularly because I had long struggled with memorizing all the Chinese characters. As many can attest, Chinese characters can be challenging to commit to memory, as they often share similarities while also exhibiting differences.
Proficiency in Cangjie allowed me to deconstruct every Chinese character into smaller components, thereby simplifying the memorization process. For instance, consider my last name, Yip (葉). It is comprised of three primary components, read from top to bottom. The top component, 艹, is typically associated with words related to grass or flowers. The middle component, 世, pertains to matters related to generations. Lastly, the bottom component, 木, literally means wood. When I first attempted to write my last name at the age of 5, it felt like an almost impossible task. This difficulty stemmed partly from the complexity of the character and partly from my struggles with memorizing just about anything.
The learning process
My Chinese ability began to improve dramatically when I was about 16 years old, which was when I started using social media (ICQ and MSN) to connect with my friends, and also began to develop a deep interest in Chinese typing. I have always mentioned to my friends that for the many achievements I have made, I have always been proud of my Gold Medal in a Chinese Typing competition when I was about 16/17.
During my days of attempting to be the fastest typer in Hong Kong (which I wasn’t able to achieve; my fastest record was 133 Chinese characters per minute, far from being the fastest), I have always wondered how people who do not use Cangjie look at all these Chinese characters. For example, would they also break the character into several components? Or would there be any code appearing in their minds while they read a character? For me, the character 你 automatically transforms as ONF, 好 as VND, and 嗎 as RSQF. However, I also know people who see 你 as 人弓火, 好 as 女弓木, and 嗎 as 口尸手火.
Since then, I have started thinking about creating quasi-Chinese characters to gain a better understanding of how people perceive them.
Back to 2023, Time to Create Some Quasi-Chinese Characters
A few days ago, the idea of creating characters resurfaced in my mind. It was sparked by a Twitter post I came across discussing how we perceive English words. The underlying concept of that tweet suggests that we don’t necessarily read an entire word, but in the appropriate context, even a portion of the word can be sufficient for us to comprehend the entire passage.
This led me to wonder if the same principle could apply to Chinese characters. What if I attempted to create some quasi-Chinese characters? Would I still be able to recognize or understand them in some way?
The methodology
I tried to create a simple prototype using p5js, a language that works the best for this experiment.
My basic workflow is,
- Look for basic strokes in Chinese characters (here I’m using strokes from pngtree.com);
- Randomly select a number of strokes (I have tested various ranges) and place them on a canvas in three different basic structures: a) single character; b) top and bottom; and c) left and right.
- Create a loop and make many of them;
- Examine the results.
The Results
Of all the results I have generated, I have selected a few to discuss.
The first one resembles the simplified Chinese character 義, which looks like 义, except that the dot is not placed directly above the ‘X’ but in the upper right corner. This character also evokes an image of two people dancing, with a sense of threat emanating from the upper right corner.
I obtained this result before fine-tuning the position of the top and bottom, which is why the top part appears somewhat detached. However, I cannot omit it from the article due to its comprehensiveness. The character resembles 馬, 屁, or 死 to me, and my interpretation can vary depending on my mood. On one occasion, I even thought of it as 羈. All in all, this character evokes a sense of darkness for me.
Among all the examples above, this one evokes the strongest feeling in me. It resembles 夠 to me, and in some instances, it even appears as a combination of two characters, 夠 and 了, meaning ‘enough.’ This impression is so strong that I believe it could stand alone as a symbol, conveying someone’s anger to whomever they wish to address.
The After Story
The above is just the beginning of what I have had in mind for some years, and once again, I have no idea where this will lead me. I am very curious about how people would react to these characters and what they think of their meanings. If you don’t mind, please let me know.
Check out my other works at www.austinyip.com, or follow me at www.instagram.com/austinyip_thecomposer, or my twitter at https://twitter.com/AustinHKYip
