For this task, I chose to carve my last name in potato stamps and produce two stamped copies. Carving and stamping the word was both a creative and surprisingly challenging process. Start to finish, it took about 35–45 minutes, most of which was spent carefully sketching and cutting the letters into the potato. Acrylic paint became my medium, and while the final two impressions were technically the “same word,” the variations in paint application, letter orientation, and cut details made each version unique. The K was especially difficult because of its angles, while the D required me to carefully remove its curved centre. Even sketching the letters onto the potato was not simple, since the uneven, slippery surface made planning the cuts more difficult. Still, when I compared the results, I found the imperfections made the stamps more interesting, personal, and alive than if they were identical, machine-made text.

Reflecting on the experience, I was struck by how much slower and more deliberate manual writing methods are compared to modern ones. Today, we often take for granted the speed, accuracy, and consistency of typing or printing. By contrast, my potato stamps reversed that logic by aiming to imitate the stability of print, but instead highlighted the quirks, effort, and individuality of handmade production. Each stamped copy bore traces of my hand, and rather than erasing variation, the process celebrated it.

The exercise also reminded me how dramatically the pace of producing text has changed over time. In the span it took me to create a single five-letter word, digital or mechanical tools could have generated thousands of flawless copies. Yet what my stamped versions lacked in efficiency, they made up for in uniqueness and character. Ultimately, the process showed me that the medium of writing is never neutral—it always shapes the final message. Where mechanized writing emphasizes speed and sameness, manual creation emphasizes patience, presence, and human individuality.