ED (III)

On these chronicles, I have spoken several times about eyedropper transformations of some pens—Pilot Prera, Kaweco Sport, Platinum Preppy… Good, correct writers as those are, they are not the most charming pens in the market, and filling their barrels with ink is a safe bet for having them inked for a long and boring while. But those experiments show a couple of things.

A Kaweco Sport filled as eyedropper. In this case, the italic nib from the Kaweco Calligraphy set makes this pen a lot more interesting.

Making an eyedropper pen is easy. Easy for the user and, more important, easy for the manufacturer. However, very few companies market pens openly as eyedroppers: Stipula, Pilot-Namiki, Romillopens, Danitrio, Eboya-Nebotek,… And with the exception of the Stipula T, all those pens are very expensive. But the market of stylophiles, on its side, demands arcane filling systems like this.

The Stipula T. A good idea for a poorly performing pen.

Stipula seems to be the only company truly understanding this, although its eyedropper-cartridge-converter pen –the Stipula T— does not perform correctly. Then, why do other companies not try this approach? Why do Pilot, Platinum and Sailor not try to create affordable eyedroppers with their admirable selection of nibs? On top of that, as Stipula showed, eyedropper pens are not incompatible with the convenience of cartridges and converters.

Maybe they are pushing us into buying vintage pens instead of their newly crafted goods...

(Sailor Realo with Cross-music nib – Pelikan 4001 Royal Blue)

Bruno Taut
December 18th, 2011
[etiquetas: soluciones técnicas, mercado, estilofilia, Stipula]

Spheres

For my friend Kugel 149.

Kugel is the German word for sphere or ball, and it is also a label associated to some nibs of, to my knowledge, German manufacturers: Montblanc, Pelikan, Lamy. The idea behind a Kugel nib was to enlarge the “sweet” spot of the nib and to make it easier and more pleasant to write with those fountain pens.

Kugel nib of a Montblanc 149 from the early 1950s. It is a KOB.

These nibs can easily be spotted—the nib point is a small sphere that clearly sticks out over the nib’s upper side. Kugel nibs are usually labeled with a K before the actual nib point—KM, KB, KOB… However, there are a number of nibs sporting this same feature that are not labeled as “Kugel”. Does that mean these were not Kugel nibs?

I see a big ball here. Parker Falcon 50, from ca. 1980.

This question would be irrelevant might not be that German Kugel nibs, labeled as such, reach much higher prices in the second hand market that those not labeled as such. So, what do stylophiles value? The rarity of the label or the actual nib, labeled or not?

Another sphere. A Pilot Capless nib currently on production.

Modern nibs tend to have larger tips, as can be seen on the pictures. I can think of two reasons to explain this: The first one is the current lower price of the raw materials –mostly Ruthenium alloys in modern nibs— with respect to the labor costs of producing smooth and material-efficient points. The second is the lack of use of fountain pens—for people raised in the era of ball-points and keyboards, fountain pens with larger sweet spots and smoother nibs might be arguments to attract new users.

Anyway, that is just a hypothesis. The main conclusion is that there are more Kugel nibs in the market that just those labeled with a K.

(Parker Falcon 50 – Sailor Miruai)

Bruno Taut
December 15th, 2011
[etiquetas: Alemania, plumín, estilofilia]

Sailor's Piston

Two are the basic arguments for stylophiles to favor self-filling systems –and eyedroppers— over the more modern and convenient cartridge-converter scheme. The first one, already analyzed, is the romantic appeal associated to this beautiful but obsolete writing tool (CE—Romanticism).

The second argument is the usual claim that traditional filling systems hold more ink. The first critique to this claim is whether we really want big ink deposits (CE—In Defense of Small Deposits). And there is a second one—is that claim on the ink capacity correct? Are self-filling mechanisms that capable?

This question, however, only makes sense when comparing similar pens. One such example are the Profit and Professional Gear models, by Sailor, with 21 K gold nibs in senior size.

Piston filler Sailor Profit Realo.

On the Profit version (torpedo, also called 1911 in some markets), the piston filler Realo holds 1.0 ml of ink according to my own measurements. And this pen is only available in three nib points: F, M, and B. The cost, JPY 31500.

Cartridge-converter Profit with a Naginata togi nib.

Professional Gear with an F nib.

On the other hand, the cartridge-converter version holds either 0.7 ml (converter) or 1.2 ml (cartridge), implements nine different nibs, and its price ranges between JPY 21000 (with nibs EF, F, MF, M, B, and zoom) and JPY 31500. All these facts also apply to the Professional Gear models, Realo and cartridge-converter, with the exception of a shorter nib selection.

This table summarizes the differences between Sailor models associated to the filling system.

Therefore, the price difference associated to the piston mechanism is JPY 10500. In view of these results, is it worth to pay such a premium for a piston filler whose ink capacity was smaller than that of the ink cartridge? How romantic are you, dear stylophile?

(Sailor Pocket pen, 14 K gold nib – Pilot Iroshizuku Sho-ro)

Bruno Taut
December 5th, 2011
[labels: Sailor, soluciones técnicas, conversor, estilofilia]

Information

Information adds value to pens. Knowing who made that obscure pen and under which circumstances do indeed increase the interest and the appeal of that otherwise unremarkable tool. That is why writing on unknown pens might raise their value and why working on the history of pens, Japanese or Spanish or Greek, might be a good investment.

The two pens made by Súper T: a green Olimpia and a blue Gester.

Is that a Platinum or a Presidente?

How many people outside Spain do know about Súper T or about Regia pens? And those are some of the finest brands ever made in Spain. Being in oblivion does not help anyone.

[Pilot Vpen – Sailor Tokiwa-matsu]

Bruno Taut
November 19th, 2011
(etiquetas: libros, estilofilia, Súper T, Presidente)

Romanticism

Para Alberto, marino estilófilo, maestro de plumas españolas.

(A Spanish version of this text can be seen on forum Grafopasión-Foro de relojes.)

The technological development of fountain pens, we can now see, has followed a clear line in the last sixty years or so regarding filling systems, and its last stage is that of cartridges and converters. And let us be real—this system is great. Cartridges are clean, friendly, reliable, and users do not become inked when filling the pen from those poorly designed inkwells. We can also carry several cartridges in our pockets whereas few of us carry an inkwell with ourselves—not even one of those fancy and beautiful traveling inkwells designed for that purpose. And, finally, we can always romantically ink the pen from an inkwell by using a converter.

Two German piston-fillers.

The Queen, an American eyedropper in hard rubber.

But we have also to understand that fountain pens, nowadays, have totally lost their raison d´être. Now, we use touch screens and keyboards, and when there is no other option, a pencil or a ball pen does the job smartly. Therefore, we use our beloved fountain pens out of a sense of romanticism, out of an added feeling to the act of writing. Settled in this romantic realm, away from utilitarian considerations, anything goes. Anything goes in the search of old filling mechanisms and of ancient materials for bodies and nibs. Once our insanity is understood and assumed only our preferences counted no matter how exotic or even irrational they might be. No matter, in fact, how dirty they were.

This Kaweco is, in principle, a cartridge/converter pen, but it is more fun as an eyedropper.

That is why I, and many others, love eyedropper pens. And friendly to fill they are not.

(Sailor Pro Gear with cross music nib – Diamine Evergreen)

Bruno Taut
May 7th, 2011
[labels: soluciones técnicas, estilofilia, conversor]

The Otaku Syndrome

Para Ningyo-chan y Kendo-san en Sampaka.

I guess we all otaku are bound to experience this syndrome… Otaku, almost by definition, are obsessed with their pens and related objects –or whatever the object of their dreams might be—and we easily become very knowledgeable about them. More so than most professionals. But these professionals are in charge of catering our dreams when we enter their shops.

That has been my experience in most shops I have visited—mostly in Madrid and in Tokyo. Very soon you learned that there is a very shallow knowledge of the product they are selling in the person attending you. The logical exception to this rule is the second hand shop, but only when the owner is also the person in charge.

Sales people seem to have a hard time following Sailor's ink policy in the last years.

I wonder then, if those clerks were aware of the fact that some of their customers knew a lot more than themselves, and that those customers would be very pleased with a more knowledgeable attention.

I guess, finally, that suffering from this otaku syndrome is, more often than not, unavoidable… But I wished different.

(Kaweco Sport as eyedropper, 1.1i nib – Senator Regent Royal Blue)

Bruno Taut
June 23, 2011
[labels: estilofilia, mercado]

Charm

To Paco-san, in Kanto.

I guess we all stylophiles start our love for fountain pens in the same way: we receive a fountain pen and by using it we feel something special. What it is we do not really know—we might never actually get to know. Then we might start collecting, or simply accumulating, some of those utensils in a semi-conscious way, looking for a more perfect pen, a richer flow, a smoother nib, a bigger ink deposit,… And suddenly we realize we have become collectors even if in denial, as I had said on a previous chronicle.

The next step, some say, is to narrow down our field of interest. A number of collectors adamantly insist on this—you need to decide what you look for, you need to structure your collection.

A well structured collection of Parker flighter pens.

Paco-san, however, claimed that every pen has its own charm. It is indeed difficult to turn your eyes away from most pens although some modern manufacturers are trying hard to create ugly pens at outrageous prices, but there is always the chance that that horrendous pen was the most perfect writer ever created…

Purple is the argument...

At the end, what I see is that many of us barely discriminate in our tools. Most of us do not have any real structure in our collection. And even if we tried, there is always that temptation we just cannot resist. We all have some Paco-san inside—we are ready to appreciate some charm in every single pen.

(Pilot Capless 1990 model with steel M nib – Diamine Teal)

Bruno Taut
April 20, 2011
[labels: estilofilia]

Against Collecting

I must admit my condition of collector over that of user. One-hundred-plus pens stored in boxes and cases definitely say so. But that is not a label I feel comfortable with.

I was raised in a time in which consumerism was frown upon. It was not only that we should not demand luxuries—we were somehow told that consumerism was alienating. Little we knew then how much more demanding this society would become over the years. The country, in the meantime, has also become wealthier and the opportunities to spend money have increased. As a result, younger generations have never received those messages and feel more at ease in the ludic act of shopping.


Collecting has a number of interpretations but it is not possible to deny its consumerist and superfluous dimension. There is hardly any way to justify the possession of more than a couple of pens and inks. And we know it—at least, I know it. But we also create the fantasy –the denial—of believing in our condition of users, regardless of the size of our collection.

Beyond certain number of pens, we all know, it is simply not possible to use all of them. Some pens might never see any ink, and many others are inked only once. Then, what are we buying? I am afraid we end up buying ornaments in the shape of pens. But these were meant to be tools, utilitarian tools.


In a sense, all these feelings explain why I write these chronicles using my pens. By writing, I feel more of a user and I can ease my bad feelings as a victim of consumerism.


In any event, the pen will never become mightier than the sword if kept in a display window. But that is what many of us, pen collectors, do with our beloved jewels.

(Pilot Vortex, M nib– Sailor Red Brown)

Bruno Taut
April 5th, 2011
[labels: estilofilia]

In Defense of Small Deposits.

A common complaint among stylophiles is about how most modern pens do not implement self-filling mechanisms and, regardless of the price, manufacturers opt for the simple and cheap cartridge/converter solution. The criticism continues along the lines of the small size of those ink cartridges and converters. That was one of the reasons behind my chronicles on their ink capacity for Japanese brands Pilot, Platinum and Sailor. The data showed that they range between 0.6 and 1.2 ml (for unmodified deposits). Now, is that small?

Regular Sailor cartridges can hold up to 1.2 ml of ink.

The relevant question, however, might be different: How do we stylophiles enjoy our pens? “Writing” might be the immediate answer, but most of us, collectors and accumulators, enjoy ourselves by trying new pens and new inks, filling that new arrival and cleaning that old one. And often, we look forward to finishing the ink load of that pen to ink that one we bought a couple of days ago with that new ink. Sure enough, we can always ink another pen, but there is also a limit on how many inked pens we can have at any given time.

The very small Platinum converter—just 0.6 ml of ink fit inside.

The argument of needing big ink capacity to avoid running out of ink does not apply either since most of us carry several pens with us—that is the extent of our fetishism.

Therefore, in view of these attitudes towards our objects of desire, I wonder what the actual reasons were to demand big ink reservoirs. As a user and accumulator I am not so sure of wanting them. A small deposit would push me to try pens and inks more often.

And on another chronicle I will argue in favor of traditional self-filling systems.

(Pilot Vortex – Sailor Red Brown)

Bruno Taut
March 20-21, 2011
[labels: conversor, soluciones técnicas, estilofilia]

Chimera

The universe of stylophiles is often divided in two groups: those who consider themselves as users and those who take pride in their condition of collectors. A lot has been written on the matter and, at the end, personal preferences –how each of us enjoyed this hobby— are what really counts.

It is also true that the attitude towards pens is very different for these two groups. The collector aims at having that perfect pen, untouched from the moment it went out of the production line. They glorify new old stock (NOS) pens, and keep them uninked. The user, on the other hand, wants to ink and to write, and a poorly performing pen, that the collector would never test, is always a source of frustrations.

Then, how far can a user go to make an efficient writer out of any pen?

The chimeric Twsbi with the Pilot nib (a 14 K gold number 5 in M).

The secondary chimera: a Plot Custom 74 with the Bock steel nib made for Twsbi.

Recently, I became the owner of a couple of modern pens: a Twsbi Diamond 530 and a Pilot Custom 74 Demonstrator. Playing around with them—well, you always learn something new from nibmeister Yamada—I saw that both nibs could easily be exchanged. So… why not?

Both chimeras, side by side.

Now I am using the piston filler Twsbi with the 14 K gold Pilot nib. And that makes a great combination. The feeds, though, cannot be swapped as their diameters are different. But this causes no troubles in the nib performance.

The real Pilot Custom Heritage 92 with a FM nib (courtesy of Kinno-san).

At the end, I am having a “de facto” Pilot Custom Heritage 92 —the Pilot piston-filler demonstrator equipped with a 14 K gold nib in size 5— out of an inexpensive and reliable Twsbi Diamond.

Some people –a friend of mine among them— might not like my experiment... But my chimera rocks! After all, I am not damaging any historical artifact and I only improved the performance of my pen.

Yeah, today I am a user.

My thanks to Mr. Yamada.

(Sailor Black Pocket Pen 21 – Sailor Black)

Bruno Taut
(Madrid, February 19th, 2011)
[labels: Twsbi, Pilot, estilofilia]

Empty Boxes

Among fountain pen enthusiasts, ball pens do not enjoy much particular favor. One of the arguments is that the essence of a ball pen is an empty box given the fact that the writing object –the ball and the ink deposit— is disposable.

Having this in mind I cannot help taking a critical look at the very successful Pilot Capless or Vanishing Point.

Six Capless pens. From left to right: Red Capless from 1964 with a 14 K gold nib. Dark green model from 1996. This model was on production in different colors between 1973 and 1998. Dark gray, silver colored and red Capless from the 2000s with either steel or 18 K gold nibs. Finally, blue Décimo from 2010 (on production since 2005).

This Pilot model was launched originally in late 1963 and several major changes and improvements have seen the light along its history. The current model in steel and some form of enamel dates from 1998. Since that date, Pilot has marketed a big number of variations including several limited editions. In 2005, a thinner and lighter version of the 1998 Capless was released as a limited edition with the name of Sesenta, and later renamed as Decimo. And in 2006, Pilot marketed the bigger Fermo, with a twisting knob to operate the nib.

Two Capless F nibs in different materials.

But the only variation on those pens lay on the external decoration. The nib (together with the feed and the ink deposit) is exactly the same for all of them, and exchanging them requires no technical ability whatsoever. Therefore, it is possible to change the box while keeping that nib we enjoy so much. Actually, the list of Capless points is quite limited:


In the past, there also existed 14 K gold nibs.

The full gamut of points in Capless nibs in 18 K gold (as of November 2010).

The Pilot Capless/Vanishing Point with all its variations is a big marketing operation backed, of course, by the response of us stylophiles. The Capless, some say, is a very collectible pen, but that obeys, I think, solely to the aspect of empty boxes—just like ball pens.

(Pilot Custom 74 – Pelikan Turquoise)

Bruno Taut
(Madrid, November 30th, 2010)
[labels: estilofilia, Pilot]

Scarcity

Recently I wrote a chronicle to report on the new release of Sailor seasonal inks. On that text I also criticized that company for its policy on limited edition inks.

That chronicle became quite popular, much visited. I confess I contributed to that popularity by starting a couple of threads in two different fora (Grafopasión and Fountain Pen Network). But I am afraid my criticism on the marketing policy might have been overlooked by most. Fellow blogger Margana Maurer –Inkophile—, however, did notice it and, even better, she agreed with me. Good to know.

Two green inks by Sailor. On the left, the now discontinued Green. On the right, the seasonal Miruai —Summer 2010—. The difference in price, JPY 600 for the old green, and JPN 1000 for the seasonal.

The question, then, is what is the point of speaking about these inks? That chronicle is free advertising for Sailor. And a good one, for that matter, as is placed in a very specialized forum, where all its participants are potentially interested in those inks.

So, why are we doing this? Why did I write about this company whose strategy I dislike? Well, I guess we all are mature enough to make our own decisions. Information, fortunately, runs wild in these times of computers and global connections. But sometimes, though, I am not so optimistic: fountain pen companies are making a lot of money out of selling scarcity—that is the ultimate goal of limited editions. And a basic capitalist argument.

(Pilot Short pen – Pilot Iroshizuku Yama-guri)

Bruno Taut
(Shinjuku, October 4th, 2010)
[labels: Sailor, estilofilia, mercado]

Dilemma

There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah

(Frank Zappa)

To ink or not to ink: that is the question.

Now Old Stock (NOS) –for those who are not familiar with this jargon— are goods no longer on production that have never been sold at retail. Therefore, NOS goods are nominally new—mint in their condition. Consequently, in the second hand market, they are higher considered than any used equipment, no matter how perfect its condition.

Then, should we ink NOS pens or not? Every stylophile has his own opinion. Personally, I do ink them—I buy pens to use them and that is my reason to buy more pens. And in doing so, I have encountered some that did not perform well at all and needed adjustment.


The last of such cases was a Pilot Murex (MR) whose ink flow was quite dry. Nibmeister Paco, a regular at the Wagner pen clinics, took good care of the problem. That Pilot now writes wonderfully. But this reluctance to ink pens poses an interesting question: How many of those NOS pens, so valued by some collectors, do actually write?

This coming Sunday –September 26th—the monthly meeting of the Wagner association will take place at the usual venue near Ebisu Station in Tokyo from 9:30 to 17:00.

October will hold, other than the usual Wagner meeting, the yearly Fuente Pen Show on the weekend of the 23rd and 24th. Presumably, it will be celebrated at the Scandinavian Crafts Gallery “Hokuo-no Takumi” (北欧の匠) in Ginza (Chuo ward, Tokyo).

And given the offer of pens in those events…

To attend or not to attend: that is the question...

(Pilot Custom 74 with music nib – Sailor Red Brown)

Bruno Taut
(Inagi, September 22, 2010)
[labels: evento, estilofilia]

Preferences

There is something reactionary in this hobby called stylophilia. Those infected by this strange virus pay attention to an object whose prime time is long gone. We insist in using some utensils that are not convenient given the technological advances in the last fifty years. So, once the convenience of use is no longer an argument, almost anything goes.

Fountain pens have evolved a lot along their 150 years of history. One of the systems that has seen more changes is that related to the way the pen is filled with ink. From the dip pens with no ink deposit to the present disposable pens, a number of technical solutions have been proposed and developed. All of them, in practical terms, fit into these three categories: eyedroppers, self-fillers, cartridges.

Eyedropper pens need an external device –an eyedropper or a syringe— to fill the pen barrel with ink. This is an old system, but these pens have the great advantages of a big ink reservoir and of no technical complication.

A Sheaffer pen with the complex snorkel self-filling system.

Self-fillers, on the contrary, need of some internal deposit and of some device to pump the ink from the inkwell through the nib and feed. These systems are really varied—from piston fillers to aerometric bladders to levers acting on rubber sacs… These pens are the most technically complex in the market. Their ink deposits can be both big and small—each pen is different on this.

Cartridges and converters of the three major Japanese pen companies.

Nowadays, however, most newly made pens use sealed cartridges together –if the pen allowed so— with ad-hoc converters to make the pen to work as a self-filler. These pens, usually, have small ink capacity, given by the cartridge or converter, but their cartridges are small and easy to carry.

Two German piston fillers: a Pelikan 400NN (Merz & Krell, 1970s), and a Soennecken 110 (1950s).

Some brands remain loyal to self-filling systems. That is the case of Pelikan, for instance. Others opt for the simplicity of cartridges and converters. That is the case of most Japanese manufacturers, although recently they have marketed a couple of self-filling models. Some of their top models, however, are eyedroppers.

One of the few Japanese modern examples of self-filling pen. A piston-filler Katoｓeisakusho made in celluloid.

So, the final decision pertains to the collector or to the user. The convenience of the cartridge or the romantic tradition of the self-filling or eyedropper systems?

This discussion is never ending and often leads nowhere. Weight and technical complexity or ease of use and reliability? A second pen as a back up or a spare cartridge in the pocket? Romantic authenticity —whatever that might mean— or ease of use?

At the end, companies are catering the cravings of the buyer, not to mention that there exist a vast number of old pens with any technical solution. There are pens in all price ranges with either of the systems: self-fillers, cartridge only pens, cartridge and converter pens, eyedroppers… The exception, however, might be that of currently-produced eyedroppers—new eyedroppers tend to be very expensive.

It is my impression, however, that most stylophiles prefer self-filling fountain pens. Some, very ardently, following the backwardness of the fountain pen use.

As for myself, I am very eclectic on this matter. I do dislike disposable pens, although I manage to refill them. And I rather stay away from cartridge-only pens, despite I am fond of refilling cartridges with the ink of my choice.

Now, you, fellow stylophile reader, what do you prefer?

(Sailor 21 Black pocket pen – Sailor Brown)

Bruno Taut
(Inagi, July 11-12 2010)
[labels: estilofilia, Pelikan, Soennecken, soluciones técnicas, Katoseisakusho, Sheaffer, conversor, Japón, Merz and Krell]