A Naka-Ai comes knocking

Nakaya’s following is built on a keenly curated selection. So when they launch a new model, news travels quickly and anticipation swells exponentially.

Such is the case of the Naka – Ai, a John Mottishaw and Shinichi Yoshida collaboration. Announced in June 2012, the first batch of pens became available only in Fall of that year. Nakaya loyalists (and neophytes too) devoured that run with ruthless gusto. Not bad for a freshly minted offering.

Its storied pedigree did much to fuel that demand . But for all its celebrated origins, only actual use can prove if it honors its distinguished roots.

Pardon the dust. (And the lack of SnapSeed prowess.)

The grafting of a Piccolo cap and section to a reduced Desk Pen barrel casts a unique silhouette. It takes a few moments to grow on you but even if it does not, the hand refutes what the eyes dismiss.

Barrel profiles compared. From top to bottom: Naka-Ai, Neo Standard, Long Piccolo

The controversial taper eagerly reveals its purpose. The barrel settles into hand’s web with ease. Through the collections of friends, I have tried all the shapes that Nakaya currently make. I am partial to the Decapod, the Twist and the Long Piccolo, but this is the only one that felt like an old glove from first touch.

The Naka-Ai spends time with its Twist-ed kinsman. The tones of their heki tamenuri finishes are identical.

The heki on the ca. 2009 Neo Standard (right) is darker than that on the Naka-Ai.

I see green! Lots of it!

On this Naka – Ai, the top coat is cafe au lait in hue. In contrast, the older heki tamenuri models I’ve handled were closer to a dark espresso. The celadon undertones are also better revealed in this current expression of a staple Nakaya finish.

John Mottishaw shaped a 0.6mm stub from an unplated gold Broad. It is very easy to handle at speed. Rather than punish you for clumsy technique, it leads you to the sweet spot and provides clear hints when success is close at hand. Only a saint could be more forgiving.

Iridium was shaved and shaped until a stub emerged.

Bad lighting does no justice to a great nib.

There may not be many Naka-Ais circulating just yet. I am certain this will change very soon.

(Thanks to Leigh for lending the Long Piccolo, Neo Standard and Decapod Twist for the photos.)

Vintage isn’t about ideal

As a kid,  I remember straining my neck when I first saw a Jaguar 420 on the road. In British Racing Green, it was absolutely stunning and while the Super Trump generation fantasized about 308s and Lambos,  my daydreams were of leaping cats.

That dream soon faded.  A neighbor had four old Jags in his garage and while all of them looked elegant,  I can’t recall seeing them running about.  It turns out that none of them could go further than the neighborhood store without overheating or bogging down in some way.  The owner spent a fortune trying to get them roadworthy,  but he quickly reached the depths of the money pit. And still,  the cars couldn’t serve as daily drivers.

Vintage pens are a lot like old Jags.  They look iconic. They fuel emotion and desire. But their eccentricities can quickly erode the intoxication of the initial attraction.

Take the Parker Vacs for instance. They are unmatched for their lovely celluloid shimmer, and not even Visconti’s Wall Street can compete with their allure. The usual deal breaker is that they are typically arid writers.  Sometimes,  you’ll find a gusher but this bestows a bigger headache. Taming it’s flow is harder than trying to coax a stingy feed to give up more ink. Sending it out to a nibmeister might set things right, but I’ve seen a few that remained incontinent even after a visit to a pen spa.

Skylines are reasonably priced and their streamlined silhouette evokes images of silvered jets cutting through the sound barrier.  Their semi-flex nibs are a dream to use but their plastic caps and barrels shrink over time,  leaving derbies and cap bands to rattle incessantly. You can try building up the gaps, but the years can only be unkind to the resin.

Safety pens hold a ton of ink and come in designs that shame a jeweler’s best offerings.  Ornate overlays in vermeil, gold fill and sterling recall the pomp of the Roaring 20s and the nibs on these things are unmatched for flex. However, the cork seals in these pens can wither at the wrong time and leaks seem to be the norm. As a friend put it,  safety pens are a test of faith.

Conway Stewart’s sublime lever fillers strike a fetching pose.  Patterns like hatched and tiger eye celluloid give the Vacumatics a stiff run for the money. However,  their plating is thinner than a julienned onion and if you bust the lever box,  parts interchangeability is not assured.

Fancy hard rubber in black chased or perhaps the desirable cardinal orange hue? Be aware that browned ebonite is almost impossible to revive and the vivid orange material stains at the mere suggestion of the word. Even the gentlest microfiber cloth can abrade the maker’s mark and soaking the parts in water isn’t something you want to do very often.

The trick Snorkel fillers that were the bane of schoolmarms never cease to impress. Their Waverly nibs are some of the smoothest tips you can ever try and their colors match the tones that adorned Bel Airs and Mercurys of the era. But if you need to resuscitate a damaged Snork,  few members of the local pen posse have the knowledge and parts to get it done.

And with each and every vintage pen, nibs are usually hand-cut. This means that tipping can be irregular or asymmetrical. Tine gaps can be skewed or angled, making nib tuning a delicate proposition. If you are unwilling to adapt to the predilections of these quirky points, you will rue the day that you snagged an elderly writer.

Do I hate vintage?  Hardly.  I have four of them. Admittedly,  three are in the hands of repair specialists for various ailments. They can annoy the hell out of me sometimes but each one provides a special,  if not eccentric experience that is endearing. Like the Jag that can only sprint a few blocks before bottoming out.  You may not get very far but believe me,  the ride is nothing short of exhilarating.

Mondays to Fridays may be best served by Honda.  Quiet Sunday mornings are when the old roadsters can relive their concourse days and put a smile on your face.

Converter quirks

Which fits what again?

Unless you happen to have a ton of cartridges lying around, converters are probably your Huckleberry. They allow you to use bottled ink, saving some cash as you go. More importantly, they free you from the rather short color menu that cartridges offer.

Like anything man-made though, these small machines have their quirks. I limit this post to converters currently available from the Japanese Big 3 as these are the ones I have the most user experience with.

Pilot/Namiki currently make three converter models. The CON20 is a pressure bar variant while the CON50 is their rendition of the ubiquitous twist piston filler. The CON70 is a unique pump widget that is different from any converter I have seen before.

If it came in matte black, Lord Vader would have commandeered one.

Of the three, the CON70 holds the most ink. It is however, a royal pain to flush. Disassembly is ill-advised and reassembly rivals a dice roll. If you are  monogamous in your ink choices, this is of little consequence. Those who suffer from ink ADD might want to skip this one.

There are good reasons to pass on the CON50.

The CON50 is easier to manage but has its own shortcomings too. First, it holds an almost pitiful amount of ink. If Fines are your poison, this is not going be an issue (though you may want to top off daily.) Wider nib sizes make a travel pot of ink a really good idea.

Getting a full fill is challenging, as the thing seems to breed air pockets at will. Also, ink clings to the chamber walls which creates flow problems at the most inconvenient time. New releases incorporate a metal nipple that agitates the ink to ensure an easier fill and a more reliable flow. Having used both versions, I find that the newer iteration works better but is still far from optimal.

Lastly, it does not tolerate disassembly very well. The threads that mate with the rear coupling tend to strip easily and I realized this after going through 4 converters in just under two months. Not very inspiring.

The CON20 is the least expensive of the lot. You can’t see the ink level so you have no cue that you are running low. It holds less ink than a 70 but a bit more than the 50. The simplicity of the 20 makes it a breeze to clean and dry. I have not had any issues with it and it is what I recommend if you value stress-free living.

She won’t top the class but she won’t choke either.

Sailor make but one converter type, a twist piston filler with a translucent ink chamber. Their plastic seems softer, more pliant than what the competition employs. Almost low rent, to be polite.

The rear is too easy to remove for cleaning, as only a suggestion of pressure is required to unscrew the coupling. Keeping this joint tight is a must and a bit of silicone grease is cheap insurance against leaks.

With the Sailor, the piston seal seems to be the weakest link. In the ones I’ve had, ink would always creep past the piston seal during filling. It did not affect flow in any way but I was more concerned with ink eventually trickling out from the rear. Not the most robust converter in my opinion but it works adequately.

Nakaya believe that art is not limited to what is immediately seen.

Platinum/Nakaya also employ a twist filler converter. It comes with a clear ink chamber and like the Sailor, it will hold more Iroshizuku than a Pilot CON50. The tail end takes a fair bit of pressure to unscrew but all threads seem to hold their fit despite regular field stripping. The piston seal is good and I have yet to get unexplained air pockets or see ink loiter behind seals.

Its Achilles’ heel is where it mates with the pen. Within a gold-colored collar is a white plastic bushing that slips over the rear of the feed. This bushing wears over time, and once it loses grip, the converter will not stay seated for long. The slightest tap or shake can jar the whole thing from the feed’s nipple.

The intuitive solution would be to make the bushing out of a hardier material. However, this might wear down the nipple instead. Converters are easy to find. Feeds are a different matter.

Looking at all these quirks, I begin to wonder if the Japanese actually favor cartridges over converters. After all, I never suffered any of these headaches using their carts.

Whatever their design predilections may be, knowing where these micro-machines can fail allows us to solve their problems before they begin.

A plea for B&Ms

These days, we are spoiled for choice and convenience. A couple of mouse clicks and a piece of plastic are all you need to have your goodies and grails delivered to your door.

The online world offers plenty of choices and 24/7 shopping.

Names like Goulet, Chatterly, Binder and Mottishaw (and many others) built their enterprises on the vast frontier of the Web, and have done well. They have revived interest in writing instruments, and have brought fresh young recruits into this geeky hoarde.

Their success has also built swift bridges between small makers and a diverse global market. Brands like Bexley, Edison, Nakaya and Danitrio found devoted followings in areas outside their countries of origin, thanks to strong online channels.  But where one star rises, another wanes. This long tail has exacted a toll on what was once the lifeblood of pen companies – B&Ms.

Personally, this should worry us a bit. Pens after all are very personal articles. Blogs, forums and online vendors have tons of reviews of models from most every maker still standing. Yet nothing beats sight and feel. Holding the pen in your hands tells you clearly if the pen will dance, shake or stumble. And it is pen shops that allow us to do just that before we fork over our cash.

When the buying stops, the bricks come down.

Pen shops (in my area at least) are also the biggest supporters of local pen clubs. They listen to our recommendations and base many of their imports on our suggestions. They train their staff to make the purchasing experience a pleasant if not educational one. (If this sounds elementary, I can tell you that dip testing was not customary three years ago.) They handle warranty claims with genuine care, and badger the factory to insure that our stuff gets sorted out promptly.

They may or may not be present at the pen meets but they never fail to donate a prize (or three) to the club anniversary and Christmas gatherings. I have yet to hear them pitch a hard sell or lament that their inventory was moving slower than expected.

Taxes, licenses, payroll and rent do not make their uphill climb any easier but rather than tremble, they forge ahead. In fact, one brave shop is putting up another branch to bring their merch closer to curious crowds and pen fans in the rough. When you do the math, you quickly realize that all these labors exceed their monetary gains.

We don’t need to surrender our online chase but perhaps this year is a chance to help the stores find even a bit of respite. Buy local if the choice isn’t terribly painful. It may cost a few bucks more but it will do the hobby a world of good.

Of the twelve flasks of ink that we score each year, maybe three or four can come from the local store. If we wanted to gift a friend with a gateway pen, the neighborhood Brick & Mortar might have just the thing on sale. The damascened piston filler on display may be a tad rich for your blood but a few spare stubs for that trusty Taiwanese demonstrator won’t land anyone in the dog house. Plus your hand gets to know if italics are a good idea before you dispatch your precious Owner’s Club for a regrind.

These small bits add up and that’s the point. The community stays alive not because of epic productions, but by the steady modest patronage of every ink-stained hand in this addictive pursuit.

So pay your local pen store a visit. They’ve been waiting for you.

Culling the herd

They followed me home. Honest!

We all go through “The Binge.”

From the time you lay hands on your first pen, it takes but weeks to get to 60, with yet another mixed lot coming in the mail. Soon, you have scores of pens you didn’t really want or need. Buyer’s remorse sets in and domestic peace enters a fragile state.

How do you get out of the rut?

Listen to your hands. What sounded so perfect on the forums may be the wrong fit for you. Lamy 200os, Parker 51s and Sheaffer Triumphs do not lack for champions but many soon find that they can’t agree with conical or hooded nibs. Not yet, or not ever even.

These small pens are as intricate as the jewelry of the time. They write as well as any of their big brethren but will your hand like them?

If the pen is too big or too small, your hands will not appreciate using the pen for long. Pens that are too heavy or too light may have the same effect. Your grip will settle down in time, but fighting an ill-fitting pen early in the game is something you want to avoid.

The Edison Huron Grande in the middle lives up to its name. It may do for signatures but few can use it for note taking. The amber TWSBI or the ringed Platinum might fare better for such uses.

Hint: Which pens do you reach for first on a daily basis? Your hands might be telling you something.

Look at your writing. If your scripts are on the smallish side, a lush Broad will make your scribbles look like a Rorschach blob.  The paper at work also tells you what nib sizes you can employ. Cheap fodder favors finer nibs with drier flow. If you are lucky to have decent paper between 9 to 5, then you have more options. But let your usual writing size guide your nib selection.

Consider your writing pressure too. Needlepoints require a light touch. Flex nibs will suffer pressure one way but not another.  If your hand is too heavy for the nib, worn tips and even sprung tines await. Your hand will evolve as you get comfortable with your scripts. By then, you will get a firmer idea of which nibs suit your daily use and which are best used for special writing needs like holiday cards and letters.

Dress smartly.  A person working in a tech or creative environment can get away with Fuyu Gaki sloshing about in a big clear demonstrator. Someone in a law practice, bank or a government office  might want a more sober pen filled with a less eye-searing ink. It need not be boring and it should never be. Look at your hoard with a critical eye and you should find a couple of acquisitions that will be up to the task.

They share a lot in terms of looks. But the Chartres Blue (bottom) is built so much better than the Waterman Kultur. If you had to choose just one, which would you keep?

Go for quality. A lot of folks use student pens for their daily rotation and leave their better pens at home. Nothing wrong with that. But if those upscale writers see no use at all, then they serve very little purpose. Be careful with your stuff but don’t be afraid to call on them as daily writers. Good pens are built to last and they will keep ticking long after you keel over. Don’t hesitate to charge into the breach with your best pens in hand.

Set a target. And stick to it. This is the hardest thing to do and quotas are as varied as pen people themselves. I have friends who are trying to get to 40 pens from 300. Others are working to trim their flock from 20 to 10. If you draw with pens, your flock may be larger than someone who just needs something to sign checks with.

An artist’s pen wrap holds all the nibs she could need for the day – flex, music, sharp italic and a round nib for daily writing.

In my case, my limit of 12 gives me a variety of nibs to use for whatever writing need that comes with my job and interests. If I have never breached this limit (yet, fingers crossed) it is because I tend to rehome whatever is redundant.

One man’s covey of modern pens. Each pen was chosen to fill a need and whim.

If there is something you want to acquire or if you are gifted a nice pen that fills a useful role, you may want to try releasing as quickly as you catch. If you keep this cycle manageable, domestic bliss will never suffer.

Diamine comes to town

In my corner of the earth, ink choices are not quite vast. Lamy, Skrip, Cross, and Parker are easiest to get. Pelikan, Herbin, and Sailor are available in but one store and only over the past weeks has Waterman returned to our fair shores.

Today, a friend gave the local pen community greater freedom of choice by bringing in Diamine. A wide selection of colors in both 30 ml and 80 ml sizes is available, including Registrar’s and the newly minted Music set.

For Manila people looking to find fresh ink options, sign up with the FPN-P Yahoogroups to get the skinny on prices, flavors and sizes. Oh yes, we do meet monthly and we all have a blast!

Birthday Pen 2013

Parker Vacumatics are undeniably popular pens. Collectors prowl flea markets, pen boards and eBay hoping to score uncommon variants.  Like this one.

The Long Major size is not so easily found. They do turn up but you have to look around a bit. Silver pearl is not a rare color, but finding one with clean white trim is another matter as the nickel bits, once tarnished, are almost impossible to restore.

(Top) The Blue Diamond marks a lifetime guarantee from Parker.
(Bottom) Self-colored jewels were typical of the higher line models of the series.

This one saw light in the second quarter of 1939. For a 74-year old pen, it is in great shape. The celluloid remains glossy and its transparency is excellent for its age. This striped splendor makes it easy to understand why these celluloid marvels become obsessions for collectors worldwide.

Those ambered stripes must have turned heads in 1939.

Its genteel appearance hides a secret -  a two-toned factory stub. Most Vacs came in Fine. Stubs accounted for less than one per hundred Vacumatics made, giving this one added cachet. It has some bite to it and is particular about how it is held to the page. Once its sweet spot is learned though, it’ll shake its moneymaker all night long.

The two-tone look is starting to fade but that tip is sharper than ever.

I am told Mike Masuyama tweaked the flow on this one, so it does not suffer the dryness common to Vacs. It is a slick writer which I can still use for meeting notes without consuming a small forest’s worth of paper.

They were right about the Long part.

What truly bestows immeasurable value on this pen is its provenance: it was a birthday gift from my best-est friend. When your significant other is also your Number 1 enabler, epic surprises like this make you weak-kneed and sentimental.

Thanks, Leigh!