Someone once told me Abraham Lincoln massaged his hands before signing the Emancipation Proclamation so historians in the future could not claim his signature manifested hesitancy. Whether it’s true or not, I never forgot that anecdote.
And when I walked through the National Archives on my eighth grade field trip and saw John Hancock’s signature, still bold despite the passing of time, I didn’t forget that either.
The giant “John Hancock,” along with the 55 other signatures of the Founding Fathers, were the closest I could get to meeting the men who bravely defied the British crown to establish our nation and who, up until that point, had only been as real as characters in a novel to me – well known, sure, but out of reach.
Then I curiously glanced at my sloppy signature, which changes every time I sign it, and it didn’t seem to tell me much about myself. And though I’ll never sign onto anything as important as the Declaration of Independence, I wonder what people will think about me when they see my signature on a document. Years from now, will a kid scrutinize the shape of the “a” and “l” in Alessandra? Or will she draw some conclusion from the prominent “dask” and near absence of “alakis” in Daskalakis?
Overanalyzing everything is a tendency of mine, and I can’t help but think about these things. An example: not a medical student in scrubs goes by without me internally cringing at my grade in electricity and magnetism.
I can’t help but apply this same overanalysis to my signature, so I decided to talk to a graphologist.
Graphology, for those who don’t know, is the study of handwriting and what it says about a person. Some employers hire graphologists to analyze potential employees and screen them for a position. Other graphologists testify in court for handwriting verification.
“Every envelope I get gives me an impression,” said Lena Rivkin, a graphologist based in Los Angeles.
Rivkin, who practices graphology professionally in addition to being an artist, said signatures are interesting because they are like a public persona or a cover of a book.
“(Graphology) is a very honest form of communication,” Rivkin said.
“Handwriting is body language on paper.”
Recently I was introduced to Annette Poizner, a graphologist who uses her work in conjunction with therapy to help clients open up and learn about themselves and how they can move forward from conflicts or concerns in their lives. For instance, if somebody wants to quit his or her job and see what they should consider pursuing next, they might talk to Poizner.
She reached out to me with a story idea, and I told her I was interested in writing a first-hand account.
Her philosophy is one of projective psychology, which is the discipline that believes a person’s innermost thoughts manifest themselves in everything they do, even his or her writing.
But is it true? I plunged myself into the depths of Poizner’s process to find out.
To start she had me sign and print my name and date of birth. She then asked me to describe my 10 earliest memories and describe the most vivid moments and feelings of each one.
Thinking of them wasn’t very hard, but I didn’t like to imagine what tripping on the sprinkler-head in pre-school would say about my coordination in life, and what consistently losing to the sumo wrestler in Street Fighter II in a fit of rage the night my sister was born would say about my priorities as a child (to be fair, I didn’t really understand that my parents went to the hospital so my mom could give birth to my sister).
Another part of the process was to write a quick bedtime story on white, unlined paper. Unsure of what to do, I borrowed from my favorite stories, threw in a little bit of autobiography and ended up with a story about a little girl in a periwinkle dress who hops over the fence and follows the creek by the elementary school until she ends up meeting some of her favorite fictional characters.
That seemed like a lot, and part of me couldn’t help but feel like I was giving her all the answers, but I was willing to go along with the ride. When the time came for the interview, she wove together her interpretation of my personality.
Poizner said she firmly believes that graphology cannot stand alone. For her, it is a complement to psychology because, in her interpretation, the two are so closely linked. Together the two studies form a complete understanding of a person.
After talking to me about my life, Poizner took a look at my handwriting and started to tell me what she saw.
We first took a look at the way I formed my words and letters. She described what I consider my sloppy scrawl as organized and “print-script”: slanted and deliberately formed. My words are evenly spaced and, if one was to imagine the paper was lined, my writing is fairly straight. All together this told Poizner that I feel and approach my writing as a personal strength.
My writing is also categorized as a standard “gifted child” type. I did not want to be wooed by flattery. But then, without talking about my memories she told me I was torn between two things. That’s where I started to listen a little closer. As the comparative literature and biology pre-med who can’t seem to let go of the newspaper, it was the first time I really agreed during the process.
She elaborated that the way I connected my words was somewhat unconventional, but showed my desire and affinity to communicate with people in order to work around obstacles. That too, seemed pretty accurate.
Later we discussed my memories and the way in which my writing did not fully extend across the white page. She assessed that this, in conjunction with my memories, might mean I am at times unsure of myself and eager to “return home,” or to the left side of the page.
Poizner, who uses her background in traditional Chinese medicine and Jewish influences in her work, said she thought I had too much yin and should embrace more yang through expression of anger. She added that I should embrace my “go-getter” attitude and believe more in my ability to accomplish my goals and be less maternal.
Here I disagreed. I have always felt I get too angry, too easily. But then again, those who know me also know how much I hate yelling. So was she on to something? I mentioned some of this and we talked about how perhaps I feared becoming angry and should allow myself to release my frustration more often in more productive ways. She suggested kickboxing, which I will no doubt have too little time to pursue. But still, interesting.
As far as her statement about me being too maternal, that also has multiple interpretations. I find myself at a point in my life where I have many things I want to accomplish, and I consider myself a proactive, independent person. However, if my family called me right now and told me they needed me to come home, I know that I would.
All in all my experience with graphology was interesting and enjoyable. I learned more about myself, and I appreciated how we used my handwriting as a jumping point to start a dialogue. I think some things were a little bit of a stretch, but certain points were surprisingly accurate. Ultimately, I walked away with respect for Poizner and her ability to take handwriting and confidently work with someone she doesn’t even know to help them better understand themselves. I can see, though, how people unfamiliar with Poizner’s ideology might be skeptical. Going into this, I thought the handwriting would speak entirely for itself.
Jennifer Mnookin is skeptical about the effectiveness of graphology. Mnookin is vice dean and professor of law at the UCLA School of Law, and has written extensively on handwriting analysis and verification in the courtroom.
Mnookin said handwriting verification has been used routinely in the United States since the middle to late 19th century. But she added that she had never come across a case where handwriting experts testified on behalf of character based on handwriting analysis.
In her experience, those graphologists and document examiners identify themselves differently. Document examiners, she said, pay close attention to the similarity in such details as letter formation, instead of assessing potential character traits based on writing styles.
Some graphologists use their skills in court to recognize differences in handwriting as well.
Mnookin added that in recent years handwriting verification has become controversial in courtrooms because of the uncertainty of valid empirical evidence.
Nonetheless, graphology is apparently quite popular in France, despite skepticism in the United States, showing an interesting cultural difference, Mnookin added.
After talking to graphologists like Poizner and Rivkin, I understand that graphologists, too, understand the limitations of their trade.
“I know what I can see and what I cannot see,” Rivkin said. “People have layers; (they) are more complicated.”
Like learning a language, graphology is not easy, she said.
“Let’s say I was wrong about something. It’s usually my fault,” she said. “I just didn’t put the puzzle together correctly.”
For this reason she said she exerts caution, mindful that she is dealing with real people and their feelings. She said she always tries to learn as much as she can about a person.
So what’s my verdict? If I had a friend who was struggling with something and had a bad experience with therapists, I would tell them to give graphology a try. It’s different, and if approached correctly it seems as though it could be helpful in identifying traits or starting discussions instead of aggressively fighting problems with questioning.
From my handwriting, Poizner correctly identified my work ethic, my occasional hesitancy to trust and what I would want from a career. Our interview was over the phone, so her accuracy cannot be attributed to judgments based on my appearance. At this point, though, I would feel uncomfortable making decisions, like employment, based on handwriting.
So graphology, to me, and to people like Poizner, is a supplement to other information.
As of yet we do not have time machines, so I’ll never really get to know the historical figures I’ve read about or imagined I’d like to meet. But I’d like to think that we leave something more than ink behind when we commit to something or sign our name.
As a journalist, I guess part of me likes the idea that our writing might tell our own story as much as it tells the story we are trying to share. And if it might be that we leave a piece of ourselves behind in the slope of our letters, I’ll buy it.