Words suddenly seem to acquire greater significance when they are etched, carved, chiseled or inscribed onto a surface. A message read in a new medium, shimmers with added character, standing out as a notable record of emotion or thought.  I usually find that words chiseled in stone seem to command respect, compared to the script inscribed on jewellery which is more delicate, and sentimental, its permanence symbolising words that make up an everlasting commitment. Carved into wood, words are crafted softly and smoothly, where often natural words such as ‘botanic’ work well; on the other hand tree barks often exhibit rugged, impromptu declarations, which have become archetypal gestures of love. And illuminated, words are instantly glorified and glamorised, associated with the heights of fortune and fame, drawing crowds and attention. In all their forms, words are continually invited into our world, willing our eyes to pass over their letters and digest diverse messages.

The written word is such an integral part of expression that it penetrates our existence with its varied offerings, just like art appears in towns, cities and parks. Remaining as voices that speak out from tree barks, walls, lockets, statues and glowing lights, the worth of words are showcased in all their contrasting simplicity and complexity, for all to see, enriching our experience of places, rather than just sitting between the pages of books or logged within the digital ether.

Tracing letterforms and words with our finger tips can help us connect to its meaning. It’s a tactile way of interacting and relating to words as a physical presence rather than just as an impression. Even on a page, running your hands across the raised print can help us form an attachment to what we’re reading. Braille is a prime example of how words can be felt and understood without the need to see them.

Prayers can be carved in stone, where they seem to take on a venerable state. A building dedicated to worship, which has inscriptions carved on or within its structure helps to strengthen and promote it as a domain reserved for sacred practices and teachings, as walls become blessed with words.Writing is a timeless way of preserving and passing down great knowledge to future generations, and in the case of religion, beliefs and counsel. If those words are chiseled or engraved on a structure, their life will be lengthened, minimising the chance that they will become lost or erased.

Recently I saw an installation by Tracey Emin. It was a sentence scribbled in neon light, suspended against the night sky; taken from a biro scrawled napkin that read ‘Be Faithful to your dreams’, its strong sentiment, which directed to the heart of the reader, essentially asks them to not let dreams fade and be replaced by acceptance. Like a jolt of light, it allows them to look at things a fresh. That’s why this installation works so well as a bright, bold vision. But even if you were to read this in its original state on a napkin, left  in a cafe, crumpled on a table, it would still have the power to make you stop and think and maybe re-examine the decisions that had led you to your present circumstances. When I first saw this simple sentence, alone, high and lit up, its impact was dazzling and unforgettable. Maybe that’s why stars long to see their names in lights, there is definitely an impressive charm about glowing words that can’t fail but to go unnoticed.

During a trip to Italy, with my friend two summers ago, we decided to take the train from Venice to Verona to visit a well know tourist attraction, Juliet’s House; it is supposedly the setting where Shakespeare based his famous romantic tragedy Romeo and Juliet. On approach to the entrance of this famous house, walking down the hot Italian street, lined with modern, designer shops, a brightly coloured, aged doorway comes into view, standing apart from glass fronted window displays, it is decorated with layer upon layer of graffiti style love notes. The top layer is patterned with a huge white love heart that symbolises exactly why visitors were flocking to its entrance, in search of luck in love. Scrawled in paint, tipex, felt-tip, biro and crayon; anything that was to hand when visitors stopped by. It is said that if you leave a message here, the golden statue of Juliet, which stands gracefully in the courtyard will grant you fortune in love.

When you turn into the corridor that leads into the courtyard and to the famous balcony, bustling crowds confront you, all scrambling and eager to leave their message and attach it to the walls with chewing gum. The two walls leading to the courtyard both flutter like frills, as the breeze catches what seems to look like a petticoat of layered material, thick with multi-coloured notes. As the notes lift up, underneath are small areas of wall patterned with some of the first messages. It’s obvious that the wall space ran out quickly, as messages merge into each other and are now illegible.

It seems we cannot help but make our mark with words, to record our thoughts and feelings, as evidence of ourselves, where we passed or stayed, made clear for the world to read. I’m sure most people would like the thought that they were able to make passers-by stop in their tracks, intrigued by their words. Whether it’s carved on a tree, written in the sky, projected on the side of a building or engraved in gold; it seems the urge to leave our mark and define our territory with a literary print proves hard to resist.