Explosive ink, violent lines, characters you can't quite read—Rintaro Hashiguchi's work hits you like a shout before you understand the words.

This Japanese artist from Nagasaki combines traditional calligraphy with punk rock energy. For him, writing isn't about communication—it's about releasing raw emotion onto paper.

These drawings were made through performance—violent scratching, pushing, tearing with ballpoint pens and ink. The marks sometimes look like alphabet letters, sometimes like broken Chinese characters, but they refuse to be read normally.

This is language exploding, meaning breaking down. In our age of digital perfection, Rintaro reclaims the messy, imperfect act of putting hand to paper with pure feeling.

His lines aren't random chaos—they're structured emotion. Thick and thin, crowded and empty, they create their own grammar of feeling. Some areas scream; others whisper.

Rintaro says: "Emotions don't need to be perfect. What matters is that they exist here, now.“

Don't try to read these works—feel them. This is calligraphy as confession, writing as evidence of existence. Each mark says: "I was here, I felt this, this happened.“

In our typed world, his violent handwriting becomes radical—proof that human hands still matter, that feeling can break through any system.