One Stroke, One Intention: Handwritten Ancestral Tablets Keeping a Thousand-Year Tradition Alive

In today’s fast-paced digital age, the traces of traditional culture seem to be fading. Yet, on a sheet of glass, the craft of handwritten ancestral tablets — inscribing the names of forebears with brush and ink, continues quietly, carrying forward a thousand-year-old ritual of ancestor veneration and the cultural spirit it embodies.
For decades, Beh Hock Chan of Kedai Bingkai Cermin Lam Hup in Taiping has remained steadfast in this work. Using the years as his ink and sincerity as his brush, he transforms each piece of glass into a spiritual bridge that links the living and the departed, passing on the family bloodline.
The Soul of Calligraphy and a Craftsman’s Heart: Staying True to Handwriting, Never Taking Shortcuts
Beh Hock Chan sat upright at his wooden desk, a freshly lacquered pane of red glass laid out before him. He recalled, “Right after high school, I started working at a glass and aluminium company. After years of effort, I finally founded Kedai Bingkai Cermin Lam Hup. I’ve loved calligraphy since I was a child, so I began practicing early, copying scripts and honing my strokes.” His regular script is firm and powerful, his running script fluid and graceful, the mark of years spent perfecting the art of calligraphy.
When asked why he insisted on handwriting ancestral tablets instead of using computer-generated fonts, Beh took a deep breath and said, “Sure, computer fonts look neat, but they have no warmth. Every stroke in handwritten characters carries human emotion and breath.”
He lifted a freshly finished tablet, the gold-dusted characters glinting softly in the sunlight. “See this? The gold shines through like flowing blood; that’s the true sense of ceremony in honoring our ancestors.”
“In Chinese culture, we honor the past and cherish our roots. Placing an ancestral tablet isn’t just about respect for those who came before; it’s a constant reminder to the descendants not to forget where they come from.”
He then pointed to an older piece and continued, “This one belonged to an old house in Butterworth. Even after they moved abroad, the family commissioned me to make a new one by hand.”
Today, customers of Kedai Bingkai Cermin Lam Hup are not just from Taiping, they come from Johor, Kedah, and even Kuala Lumpur. They treasure this tradition so much that they are willing to travel far and wait patiently for it.
Hoping the Craft Lives On: Inspiring a New Generation to Take Up the Brush

Beh Hock Chan picked up a calligraphy brush and tested his strokes on a glass panel, the red lacquer still fresh and vibrant. He wrote the ancestors’ names in regular script, running script, and even a Song-style variation, then sealed the characters with a fine coat of protective lacquer.
“I never draw grids,” he said. “Every character is written in one flow, relying on years of calligraphy practice.”
When asked about passing down the craft, he sighed: “About ten years ago, printed lettering on computers became common. Many people in this trade gave up. Now, those who still insist on handwriting are few and far between.”
He admitted that he was getting older and worried that the tradition might fade away if no one inherited the skill. To keep it alive, he charges only a nominal fee, making it easier for families who value tradition. At the same time, he has opened small workshops, hoping to inspire the next generation to pick up the brush.

As the interview wrapped up, Beh Hock Chan quietly unfolded a freshly finished ancestral tablet. Golden cinnabar characters gleamed against a translucent red background. Each plaque is more than a name. It is a bridge to the past and a link between the present and the future. Every stroke carries not just an ancestor’s name, but the warmth of culture and the depth of time.
In an era that prizes speed and convenience, he holds on to a single brush and a lifelong craft, bearing the weight of generational bonds and sacred ritual, keeping alive a vibrant possibility for the tradition of honoring one’s ancestors.