Polar Blue

Blue ink. It’s traditional, standard, in most cases expected. Many describe it as ‘favorite,’ many won’t consider anything else. Earliest memories are of the old blue and yellow boxes of Sheaffer Skrip Blue from Griffith’s Drugstore, the place where I also bought Sheaffer fountain pens for around $2.00.

But as one of the cigarette commercials used to say, ‘You’ve come a long way baby.’ These days there are more brands and shades of blue ink than I can count. A quick look in my sample book shows thirteen shades of blue in seven brands. Some of my favorites have for several years been Waterman’s Florida Blue, De Atramentis Guiseppe Verdi Blue and Iroshizuku Ajisai (hydrangea). And while thirteen shades of blue ink will sound to some like way too many, there are a few of us for whom ‘too many’ is hard to get a handle on. Take for example the blue ink sample I got today from Brian Goulet.

NOODLER’S POLAR BLUE

Looking at the name on the bottle, the reaction was something like, “Oh, another blue.” I was also not too impressed by the fact that the blue had come from Noodler’s… Time now for me to wipe out that first impression and admit that this Polar Blue from Noodler’s is not only an exceptional shade of blue, but also a well-behaved ink.

A word about the name—Polar Blue may very well be the perfect name for this chilly shade of blue. It has a cold milkiness that hints at the white of snow, or the fur of polar bears. From the first moment the ink colored the page, I saw a blue resonant with the idea of ‘polar.’ Good name.

I’ve felt some ambivalence about Noodler’s ink in the past, and there aren’t many bottles of it in my collection. Most often in my experience an appealing color was not often matched with good performance in one or several fountain pens. Too often it had a dry, un-lubricated feel, a lack of the preferred wetness. Not sure what they’ve done, but the more recent samples of Noodler’s ink display an altogether different quality. Noodler’s Red and Noodler’s Walnut are good examples of what I sense as an improvement. Now the Polar Blue has come along to reinforce my evolving opinion of Noodler’s ink.

I tested the Polar Blue in a Pelikan Souverän 600 on two kinds of Clairefontaine paper—cream colored paper in the Rhodia Webbie and white Triomphe stationery. Results were better on the white Triomphe, which had less feathering. The cream paper showed only a very slight tendency to bleed, probably to a degree most people would overlook. On both papers the ink is wet and well-lubricated. The one thing missing is any noticeable shading; this is not an ink that offers much in that area. There was also a measure of bleed through on both papers. I suspect that writing front and back with Polar Blue might result in a less than ‘clean’ look.

One quality of the ink that will please many is the fast drying time. Believe it or not, Polar Blue dries before you can reach out and swipe a finger across the just written numeral. Obviously an ink that will make left handed writers happy.

Looking around at other blue inks, finding a match or similar shade of blue wasn’t easy. The Polar Blue has nothing like a twin, but the closest could be the Lavender Scented ink made by De Atramentis. The two are pretty close in my view.

Overall, the Polar Blue rates a high score. This frosty blue will make a great holiday gift or stocking stuffer. Thanks again to Brian at the Goulet Pen Company.

Wishing all a very merry Polar Blue.

Shoe Polish for Beavers

About the recent thread of autumn tinted inks in these pages, today is something like a U-turn, a looking back at the brown I jumped over last Tuesday. That particular brown is NOODLER’S BEAVER, and at this point, after an hour or two of playing with the ink on two different kinds of Clairefontaine paper, in a Sailor Professional Gear fountain pen with medium nib, and with Q-tip, I have to say in all honesty that I am only moderately impressed.

Like green, brown is another color I’ve chased after for a long time, always searching for the one that fits my preferences as closely as possible. In that search I’ve found three that fit the bill, three that I’m happy with, but those inks are not on parade here. The spotlight this time is on Noodler’s Beaver.

The color—Let me say right off that all the red in the Beaver works to push the shade toward what I call shoe polish brown. There will be some who like this particular reddish Shinola brown, and for them I would say go for the Beaver. But memory works against me, as I am reminded of the Saturday nights I had to polish my father’s shoes for church on Sunday. While it isn’t my kind of brown, the same is not true for everyone, and Noodler’s Beaver could be the one for you.

I lined Noodler’s up alongside two other browns and found all three to be close. Side by side, Noodler’s Beaver, Waterman Havana and Montblanc Sepia (Toffee Brown) almost look to be from the same ink pot, or the same shoe polish bottle. So close in fact, you might have difficulty in telling them apart. Feel like I would be stumped if you showed me unlabeled samples of the three tomorrow.

Brian Goulet has some good things to say about the Beaver, and I tend to agree with his remarks about the shading of the ink. Yes, it does shade well, and it also flows smoothly. With my Sailor pen at least, it lays down a line of well-balanced wetness, neither too wet nor too dry. In this sense, I found the drying time reasonable, but must caution left-handed writers that drying time could be a problem.

Everyone has this or that little something that draws them to a particular brown, or green or any color ink. Experience has taught that an ink displaying the finest of all qualities is rare. I have to think that getting it all right is a matter of delicate balance. Noodler’s Beaver has some excellent qualities, but the color, be it autumn or otherwise is not what I look for in a brown ink.

In my book the three top brown inks are: Maruzen’s Athena Sepia, Iroshizuku’s Tsukushi and Yama-guri. All the qualities we look for in ink are superior in these three. They are examples of that delicate balance personified by the harmony of color and performance.

An Oddly Named Beauty

Got a feeling that I’m moving backward on the autumn colors with today’s look at a GREEN ink. Anyone might have guessed that after pumpkin, orange crush and red would come brown, or something close, and I did actually consider writing about a brown ink. But I got blindsided by a green ink new to my eyes, and as chance would have it, I have sort of a thing for green inks.

I still think of Diamine as an ink new to my fountain pens. It is not marketed in Japan—or at least it wasn’t when I was last there several months ago—and my Diamine experiences before today were limited to Sapphire Blue, Syrah and Pumpkin. One quick look at Diamine Umber was enough to send a bottle to my Brian Goulet shopping cart. Like I said, I have a passion for green inks, and Diamine Umber is pretty much a green unto itself. I lined it up beside six or seven other related greens and none of them are a close match. I would say the closest match is Conway Stewart Green, but where the Diamine Umber employs a touch of gray to tweak the green, Conway Stewart shows a hint of blue.

‘Umber’ has to be called an odd choice for the name of a color that, simply put is not umber, and not even close. True umber is an earthy brown showing no trace of green. On the other hand, Diamine Umber ink is an earthy green showing no trace of brown. Go figure. But let me be clear on this point; forget about the name and feast your eyes on this remarkable mix of green. I don’t really care for the word, so rarely use it, but the Diamine Umber is gorgeous. I ordered a bottle from Goulet Pens on Saturday, and Brian got it to my mailbox on Monday morning. How’s that for service? —and including still the handwritten note of thanks for my order.

Filled one of my favorite pens with the new Umber, a Sailor 1911 Large, medium nib re-crafted by John Mottishaw of Classic Fountain Pens. Putting the pen to a sheet of Clairefontaine 90g paper I was impressed from the first line. The Sailor 1911 is a wet pen and handles the Diamine ink very well, with a beautiful shading. I wouldn’t describe it as a very saturated ink, and it certainly produced no show through on my sample. The result was not so good on the few lines I tried using cheap copy paper. The shading was still good, but the bleed through was nasty. I’m thinking that Diamine Umber is an ink to save for better grades of paper.

The review of this Umber by John Gill on Ink Nouveau offered an interesting waterproof test I wanted to try myself because the set up was one familiar to us all. You’re writing in your journal or otherwise in a coffee shop or café and a drop of water spatters your page… What happens? Grab a napkin and blot the already dry Diamine Umber and the result is a word, or words still legible, small mess, no problem.

In looking at definitions of the word ‘umber’ as it applies to this ink, I found one description that bordered on what I see in this earth tone green. Somewhere in the world lives an Umber Moth brownish gray in color, a coloring that resembles tree bark. Reading that I thought, forget the moth and imagine instead the moss or lichen that we sometimes see growing on tree bark. In that lichen I can see the beginnings of Diamine Umber.

Noodler’s Nod to Autumn

Apart from a change in the air, the crispness and the transition to a gentler time of year, color has always been a trademark of autumn. Leaving aside the fun of Halloween and the family warmth of Thanksgiving, most of us have associations that link color to the season in a strong way. During my years in Japan, a country almost as famous for its autumn foliage as the springtime pink of flowering cherry trees, for me the strongest and most enduring color image of autumn was the persimmon, the bowls of vibrant orange fruit, the persimmon trees bowed with globes of ember. But that orange is as transitional as everything else, and soon slips into darker shades. We see it as a cycle slipping from green to yellow, orange to red, and finally red to brown.

In the past week my thoughts have centered on orange, on two autumn-tinted inks, Pumpkin (from Diamine) and the slightly darker, more shaded Orange Crush (Private Reserve). As the passing days affect the autumn palette, so my thoughts turn to another signpost of autumn—RED.

There is no shortage of red ink in the neighborhood of my four walls. As I write this, the number of bottles—red this and red that—number around fifteen. But then, most of us ink junkies have too much ink to ever use in a lifetime. Ask Julie at Whatever and she might tell you the same.

Today’s featured color is Noodler’s Red, a shade that I think of as less than bright red, with no hint of the orange seen in the very reputable Sheaffer Skrip Red, yet none of the darkness in Noodler’s Rattler Red. The best quality of the Noodler’s Red is the absence of vibrancy, the look of an almost dull red that is moving toward, but not yet a dark red—one step in the turning cycle from red to brown.

Not a whole lot of shading in this autumny red, but enough to keep it from blandness. It flows smoothly from the Pelikan 200 I used for testing, and I wasn’t bothered by the time it took to dry. Left-handed writers will have trouble with the drying time, I suspect. My test was on 90g Clairefontaine paper, so feathering or bleed through were not an issue. Even for the very wet Q-tip swab, the show through was minimal. This is a fine ink, and should get some notice from those with a fondness for reds.

For a more detailed review of Noodler’s Red, once again I will point you to Brian Goulet at Ink Nouveau.

Is it Halloween Yet?

I love this ink. Orange ink has always been a shade I enjoy using, and it has been a long time in finding the one that prompts a sudden, “That’s it!” with the first stroke of color on the page. Diamine Pumpkin, the perfect orange, with the perfect timing (two weeks before Halloween), and all the right qualities.

With only a small Inkdrop sample from Brian Goulet, I wasn’t able to try the Pumpkin ink in more than one fountain pen. That proved to be something of a drawback because the pen I chose has what I call a stingy nib, laying down a line drier than I prefer. Shading looks great; no disappointment in the saturation. With the right pen, or wetter nib, this Diamine Pumpkin is going to be a star in my weekly ink rotation. Kudos to Diamine and thanks to Brian Goulet.

The second photo here shows a comparison of six different ‘orange’ inks. A quick look and anyone uninterested in ink will say that they are all the same. The subtleties of digital reproduction also complicate the differences, but hopefully some of my ink-mad readers will distinguish some difference in the six colors.

From top to bottom:

Sailor Jentle Ink • Persimmon (a custom mix)

Iroshizuku • Yu-yake

Iroshizuku • Fuyu-gaki

Caran d’Ache • Saffron

Edelstein • Mandarin

Diamine • Pumpkin

Steeped in Orchid

I never win anything. When I got word the other day from my friend Julie at Whatever that I won her Wancher ink giveaway, I figured something went wacky with the stars and planets. Maybe the moon is in the seventh house, as the flower children used to say. Such a rare phenomenon, I almost emailed Julie to say she’d better have Vanna White spin the wheel again just to be sure.

The ink arrived today, and I’ve been playing with it for the past couple of hours, testing it, comparing it to similar inks, and generally getting my hands so messy it looks like I’ve been squishing grapes in my hands. The ink is from a seller in Tokyo who makes (at least for now) only five colors: Matcha Green, Asuka Brown, Tenmoku Black, Imari Blue, and the one I have here, Ebine Violet. Believe it or not, he sells a 50cc bottle for $3.50.

The ‘violet’ in the ink Wancher has named Violet Ebine tôyôran was inspired by the purple of the Calanthe orchid. Let me include a brief of the explanation found on the Wancher ebay site:

‘This purple is the color of the Japanese tôyôran, which is ‘Calanthe orchid’ in English. In Japan the orchid has a long history dating back to the Edo Period (1600-1867). Orchids were loved by the rich nobles of the time, and the plants were often covered by a gold or silver net for protection. Flower viewers were required to cover their mouths with paper so as not to breathe on the orchids.’

Personally, I like very much the orchid-like beauty of this Wancher Violet Ebine. From first glimpse I recognized it as an ink I would go back to again and again. The only thing is, color and shade wise, there is not really anything to call completely individual about the color. In no time at all I pulled five other colors from my ink shelves that bear a close resemblance. But in saying that I intend no criticism. These days, it is quite difficult for even the top ink makers to come out with a color that is totally individual. Just too many out there, from Diamine, Noodlers, Private Reserve and J Herbin, to expect that one of them will release a never before seen color of ink. Subtlety, nuance and a hint of native color are what we can expect in the ink market of today. And of course, an ink that behaves well in more than one pen, on more than one kind of paper.

At first look, I thought the Wancher Violet Ebine resembled Private Reserve’s Plum. A little longer look and I thought of PR’s Arabian Rose. So, I decided to line up five inks beside the Violet Ebine. As it happens, all five are close enough to fool even the likes of Brian Goulet. The six inks in the photos here are from top to bottom:

(1) Private Reserve Plum

(2) Private Reserve Arabian Rose

(3) Diamine Syrah

(4) Wancher Violet Ebine tôran

(5) Iroshizuku Yama-budo

(6) Iroshizuku Tsutsuji

I call the Violet Ebine beautiful, but amidst such close similarity we have to consider performance. The best way to get a well-rounded feel for the ink was to try it in three different fountain pens, on three different kinds of paper. So that’s what I did.

(A) Montblanc Meisterstück Doué on Life Noble Note cream paper—The pen moved smoothly across the page, laying down wet, but unshaded lines of ink. Noticed right off that nib creep is a problem with this ink, in this pen. On this first test, I found the Violet Ebine comparatively fast drying.

(B) Pelikano Junior on Clairefontaine 90g paper in a Rhodia Webbie—The pen and ink both move well together on this paper. However, shading is almost non-existant. The flow of ink is good and not so wet on this thicker, richer paper. Drying time not quite as fast as the first trial.

(C) Waterman Carène on white Clairefontaine Triomphe stationery—Again almost no shading, and once more a case of nib creep. Drying time is the slowest on this paper. The Carène flows smoothly with this ink, wet, but not so much as on the Noble Note paper.

I might hesitate to say that the Wancher ink is performance wise in the same category as big name inks like J Herbin and Montblanc, or Diamine and Pilot Iroshizuku, but this Violet Ebine tôran from Wancher is not at all a bad or inferior ink. I rather like it and expect it will have its share of use in my fountain pens. If you’re partial to purple, or near purple inks, this one might be for you.

And thanks, Julie.

The Lore of Wax

In some things I am not too swift. What I mean is, catching on to this or that way of doing something is on occasion slow. Even though I understand the steps or procedures, my hands or fingers won’t move as they should, and I wind up repeating the process more times than should be necessary. This time the repetition and frustration is with a new wax seal.

For a long time I’ve wanted to use a wax seal on my letters, and two weeks ago I bought the Celtic seal and sealing wax from a place in Utah, a disappointing purchase I wrote about here on August 14. Both seal and wax from that purchase have continued to be completely useless; the pewter seal bad, the Ecclesiastical Red sealing wax worse.

So, I contacted Brian at gouletpens.com and ordered a brass seal with my initial, and some J Herbin sealing wax. Two or threes days later the seal and wax arrived and with the excitement I always feel around pens, ink and other letter writing tools, I tore open the package and got to work. But something was wrong. Fifteen minutes and four wax seals later, my attempts all looked like kindergarten arts and crafts. Worse; it was all I could do to make out the initial pressed into the wax.

I sat down down at the iMac and watched several videos by Brian Goulet on how to make a good wax seal. Just to be sure, I watched the videos a second time, even took some notes. Back to my worktable and eager to knock out a few precise, well-done seals, I lined everything up exactly as Brian did and made another attempt… Failure! Total failure. Knowing how agreeable and helpful Brian is, I emailed him for help, attaching a photo of my latest mess. A short while later I got an answer that almost guaranteed improvement in my seal making efforts.

Here are some important points I learned from Brian:

1. Place your seal face down on a small ice pack during the few seconds you are melting the wax.

2. Use a butane lighter to melt the wax. I use one of those long-nosed grill lighters.

3. Once the melted wax is on the paper, waste no time applying the seal; no more than five seconds between melting the wax and impressing the seal.

4. Press down hard on the seal, no longer than three seconds.

My first attempt after reading Brian’s suggestions was an improvement, though not yet what I hoped for. That didn’t bother me because another of Brain’s comments was that it takes some practice to get the hang of. Well, I’ve practiced some (and wasted a lot of expensive wax) and things are definitely getting better. Might take a little more practice, but I’m confident it will come.

I’ve attached photos of the two best impressions (thought still feeble). The seal is in the shape of a scripted W, my first initial, and the two colors of sealing wax are forest green and silver. The third photo is of an earlier attempt where you can see the kind of mess I was making.

Rhodia Perfection

For a long time I have happily used for my journal writing a Japanese made ‘notebook’ called Life Noble Note Plain. I like the size of five and a half inches by eight and a quarter inches, as well as the thick unlined ivory pages. I also like the brown cover with its old-fashioned design. Several months earlier, at the time I was living in Japan, but making plans to leave there, I bought five of the Life notebooks to take away with me, certain I would be unable to find the same brand here in the US. But that stack of five has dwindled, and I’ve had my eye out lately for a replacement.

And then came Rhodia. I read a couple of reviews on pen & paper related blogs of the new Rhodia Webnotebook. It looked good and right off impressed me as a likely replacement for my longtime Life notebooks. I’ve had good experience with Brian Goulet at gouletpens.com, so I ordered from him the larger of the two Rhodia Webnotebooks, which just happens to be the exact size of the Japanese Life notebook I’ve always used.

My order arrived amazingly fast, and as is usual with Brian, included a handwritten note of thanks for my order, finished off with a wax seal. To my mind, the note is a special touch. But to the point, the Rhodia ‘Webbie’ as it has come to be called…

I chose the orange (tangerine) cover because I wanted to expand my range of colors, journal-wise. The Rhodia orange is beautiful, but it isn’t until you hold, touch and feel the Italian leatherette cover that the color comes into full bloom. The best way to describe it is to say it is something I want to hold onto. It feels good in my hands, and moving my fingers over the leatherette is almost a soothing sensation. It certainly makes me wonder what exactly this ‘Italian leatherette’ is. The Rhodia logo in the center complements the notebook’s softness.

Another thing I like is the rounded corners. No matter how you turn or hold the Webbie, there are no sharp edges. Everything about it is smooth and silky, and that includes the 90g ivory Clairefontaine pages inside the cover. The Clairefontaine name is enough to tell you that the paper is going to be of superior quality. The Webbie has 96 blank (or lined) sheets, or 192 pages. The paper is acid-free, pH neutral and PEFC-certified.

One add-on at the back is a great idea, one I’ve seen in Japanese notebooks. This is an inner pocket just inside the back cover, perfect for small notes or clippings, maybe business or personal cards, things you want in a journal that aren’t written on the pages.

The notebook also has an attached elastic band which offers protection from other things getting wedged in the pages while in your bag; a simple band that keeps the book closed when you want it closed.

So what about the paper inside, the Clairefontaine 90g? Hard to imagine that anyone could ask for better. For my first bit of writing I chose five different fountain pens and five different inks. Each one proved to be a beautiful marriage of ink and paper. Smooth, clean, no feathering or bleed through, satisfying in all its qualities—what I would call ideal or perfect for pen and ink.

PENS AND INKS USED

Lamy 2000 (M) • Sailor Blood Orange ink

Lamy Safari (M) • Waterman Florida Blue

Pelikan 200 (M) • Sailor Miruai

Pelikan Souverän 600 (M) • Iroshizuku Tsukushi

Pelikan Souverän 1000 (BB) • Montblanc Violet

It’s just a matter of time until I order my next Rhodia Webnotebook. I’m hooked.

My thanks and appreciation to Brian Goulet at gouletpens.com.

Wax Seals

Looking through my writing desk you will find no shortage of seals, personal, seasonal or otherwise. During my time in Japan I had at least a dozen of them made, but they are all for use with ink rather than sealing wax. I have always thought of the wax type as stylish and sort of dapper, wanting one for a long time.

The first of these seals I considered buying was one I saw on Ward Dunham’s website, Atalier Gargoyle, San Francisco. I saw two or three I liked, but the one of a lowercase Gothic alphabet in a circle especially intrigued me. Several times I started to order this wax seal, then stopped myself, thinking again of the price. A very beautiful seal, but expensive.

Recently I got something from Brian Goulet at gouletpens.com and it included a note from Brian with a wax seal in the shape of a ‘G.’ I thought about ordering one of these seals with a personal initial, then decided to look around and see what else is out there.

I found a company online that offered what looked to be interesting wax seals, all of them at a reasonable price. I chose one and placed an order. Big, big mistake. The ordering process was simple enough, and the delivery was prompt, the items well packaged, but both seal and sealing wax were a huge disappointment. Disappointment so complete I have still, after five or six attempts, been unable to get a satisfactory, or even mediocre impression from the seal and sealing wax. Both came from Capricorn’s Lair in Utah. The seal is much too shallow to leave a sharp impression, and the True Vermillion (Ecclesiastical Red) sealing wax almost useless.

The seal I chose is shown in the top photo, but the two impressions are ink. The bottom image from a cheap red ink pad, the top from an expensive Japanese ink. The seal is pewter and the design is a four-point Celtic Knot. Not personal in the sense of an initial, I still like the design and its probable meaning, which may be representative of four stages in life: birth, maturity, death and afterlife. Celtic designs however, are not easy symbols to interpret.

Whatever the meaning and whatever my feeling for the Celtic Knot is, it’s all moot, because the seal and wax are inferior. I have wasted my money. Would have done better to save my money and then later order the Ward Dunham Gothic alphabet seal, and some J Herbin sealing wax from Brian Goulet.