Handwriting, Identity, and a Forgotten Umbrella from AIT
How a Taiwanese handwriting artist unexpectedly became part of an international diplomatic moment

In 2019, I was invited by the American Institute in Taiwan to participate in the celebration of the 40th anniversary of the Taiwan Relations Act (TRA40).
At the time, I did not fully understand how significant the event truly was.
To be honest, I almost declined the invitation.
My teaching schedule was already full, and I tend to live quietly and avoid political attention.
My wife and I even wondered whether it might be better to recommend another student instead.
Back then, many online English calligraphy artists were far more famous than I was — with larger audiences, books, television appearances, and social media popularity.
Meanwhile, I was simply living inside my own small world of fountain pens, antique books, handwritten lettering, sealing wax, classical calligraphy, and signature design.
I never imagined that years later, this event would become one of the most meaningful chapters of my life.







AIT Did Not Ask Me to “Perform”
Years later, after rediscovering old emails and official records, I slowly realized something important:
AIT was not simply looking for someone with beautiful handwriting.
They were searching for a person who could represent a certain cultural atmosphere.
At that time, the AIT officers told me only one thing:
“President Tsai will attend.
We hope you can prepare a handwritten piece and design her English signature.”
That was all.
No one explained the political importance of the event.
No one mentioned that figures such as Paul Ryan, James F. Moriarty, and Brent Christensen would all be standing nearby.
At the time, I honestly did not know who they were.
I was simply focused on one thing:
Writing every name correctly.

Images sourced from the official website of the Presidential Office, Republic of China (Taiwan)

The Moment the Event Suddenly Changed
Originally, I prepared only a limited number of pieces.
I assumed I would create a formal commemorative work for President Tsai and perhaps a few additional guests.
But once the event began, everything changed.
As diplomats, officials, media representatives, and international guests entered the venue, word quickly spread across the hall:
“There is an artist here designing handwritten English signatures.”
Soon, nearly everyone wanted one.
People began lining up in front of my table, handing me business cards one after another. I barely had time to look at the names before writing.
The atmosphere became unexpectedly intense.
The AIT officers themselves seemed surprised by the overwhelming response. We were all improvising in real time.
Fortunately, perhaps because of years of working with luxury brands and live events, I had developed a habit:
I always prepare more than necessary.
Extra paper.
Extra materials.
Extra ink.
Extra blank cards.
That day, those extra preparations saved the entire situation.
Years later, one AIT officer told me:
“Thankfully, we invited you.”
At the time, I did not fully understand what that meant.
Now I do.
A Diplomatic Event Is Not Like a Movie
When people imagine international diplomatic receptions, they often picture elegant conversations and carefully staged photographs.
But real official events are different.
They are busy.
Chaotic.
Fast-moving.
That day, the venue became so crowded that even water was forgotten.
My neighboring table was occupied by a nationally respected master calligrapher and his wife. The elderly couple stood for hours continuously writing traditional Chinese calligraphy for guests, while I at least had the luxury of sitting down during my English signature work.
We barely spoke.
We were both simply focused on finishing our work.
Even when President 蔡英文 approached our tables, we only briefly lifted our heads before immediately returning to writing.
Looking back now, I realize:
That quiet concentration may have been the most authentic part of the entire event.
“You Look Like You Came Out of Pride and Prejudice”
One memory still makes me smile.
During the event, several international guests asked me:
- “Which country are you from?”
- “Where did you learn these scripts?”
- “Are these real antique tools?”
- “How old are you?”
Even President Tsai initially assumed I was a foreign guest.
At one point, then-Minister of Economic Affairs Wang Mei-hua paused during a photograph and told me:
“Your handwriting and tools feel like something from Pride and Prejudice.”
She said the fountain pens, classical scripts, ribbon tie, and antique writing instruments all reminded her of an old European world.
I replied honestly:
“This is simply how I normally dress and work.”
She looked genuinely surprised.
What many people did not realize was that none of this had been specially prepared for the event.
The deep blue suit, the violet feather pen, the gold-embossed cards, the antique writing box — these were all part of my everyday life long before AIT invited me.
Years Later, I Finally Noticed the Colors
Only recently, while reorganizing the photographs, I suddenly noticed something strange.
The entire visual atmosphere of my table naturally matched the official AIT 40th anniversary branding:
Deep blue.
Purple-blue tones.
Gold accents.
Classical elegance.
Even my writing tools and paper colors blended almost perfectly with the official TRA40 visual identity.
Yet AIT never gave me any dress code or color instructions.
That realization moved me deeply.
Because it meant that I had not “prepared myself to fit the event.”
Rather, the world I had quietly built for years somehow already belonged there.
The Forgotten Umbrella
After the event, AIT gave me a commemorative umbrella.
At the time, my wife laughed and said:
“This umbrella is kind of ugly.”
So I simply stored it away in our shoe cabinet and never used it.
Years later, while writing this article, I opened it again for the first time.
Only then did I notice the printed words:
“Public Diplomacy Section”
Alongside phrases such as:
- Public Engagement
- Emerging Voices
- Established Opinion Leaders
- Press and Media
I froze for a moment.
Suddenly, I realized this was not an ordinary event souvenir.
It belonged to AIT’s public diplomacy division — the department responsible for cultural exchange, media relations, and international communication.
And only seven years later did I slowly begin to understand what that might have meant.
From Fuzzy Memories to an Official Historical Record
At first, I worried that people might think I was exaggerating these stories.
Even my own memories had become blurry.
But once I began researching, I discovered something surprising:
The internet still remembered everything.
Official AIT records.
Presidential Office videos.
Yahoo News coverage.
Event posters.
Official photographs.
Piece by piece, the evidence connected itself.
The blue-and-gold artwork seen in the Presidential Office video perfectly matched the original handwritten pieces I still had at home.
The feather pen.
The embossed paper.
The writing box.
The diplomatic reception hall.
Everything aligned.
That was the moment I finally understood:
What I experienced was not simply a “calligraphy event.”
It was a real historical moment of cultural diplomacy — quietly preserved in public records long after I had forgotten about it myself.


