Ah, the bane of left-handers the world over... fountain pens.
I can still remember ink-wells, blackened fingers and smeared pages from my early school days. (now, I don't think I'm
that old... it's just that growing up in Canada's "Near North", change came slowly in the '50s and '60s.)
By the way, and more on topic, I sign the back of my prints. (...with a thick grade-school primer pencil.
)
Cheers, and remembering my
special spot, standing in the corner by the door.