E
Erich
Guest
A scribe bends intently over a worktable in his scriptorium in Monmouth, Wales. The page before him is vellum—calfskin sanded to a velvety smoothness. His goose quill pen has been hardened in hot sand and cut with a knife to hold ink and to create a precise line. He dips the end into vermilion pigment mixed with egg yolk for luminosity and begins to shape the first capital letter of a new chapter of the Bible he is copying.
Finishing this page will take a day. If he makes a mistake, he will have to scrape the vellum and write the word or line over again. The pressure is greater because the other side has already been illuminated—biblical themes spun into a visual tapestry of brilliant colors, evocative imagery, and radiant gold.
But the scribe’s hand is guided by long experience and a clear idea of the words’ pattern on the page. The line length has already been worked out by computer to ensure a perfect fit.
christianitytoday.com/ct/2007/september/28.58.html
Finishing this page will take a day. If he makes a mistake, he will have to scrape the vellum and write the word or line over again. The pressure is greater because the other side has already been illuminated—biblical themes spun into a visual tapestry of brilliant colors, evocative imagery, and radiant gold.
But the scribe’s hand is guided by long experience and a clear idea of the words’ pattern on the page. The line length has already been worked out by computer to ensure a perfect fit.
christianitytoday.com/ct/2007/september/28.58.html