Leigh Reyes. My Life As a Verb.

Presenting the ultimate non-disposable writing instrument: the beta pen. With a tip made from a special alloy (that includes lead), it makes marks on paper with metal, the way people used to before graphite and pencils. In the past, artists used wire clamped in a stylus or even bare. You can try that technique today – I know I will, when I find the time.

The beta pen looks like a fancy pencil. It’s heavy. I chose the black finish. @dowdyism featured the pocket version on his blog and on Flickr.

It comes with an explanatory leaflet. I share it with you because I am lazy and do not wish to paraphrase.

It’s not just a novelty item to whip out at dull meetings.

Writing with metal isn’t like writing with graphite. What it feels like is dry-writing with an extra-fine nib. It’s toothy but not irritatingly so. The strokes don’t get too dark, even when layered. When I was taking a shot of my first experiment with the beta pen and watercolor, I noticed that the metal marks caught the light and almost seemed to sparkle.

So I decided to take a shot of metalpoint side-by-side with graphite. Held away from the light, the two are difficult to tell apart.

I see the sparkles when I hold the paper at another angle.

On a yellow Post-It the sheen was even more obvious.

I don’t think it will replace a regular pencil (for one, it’s not erasable). There are also those who prefer darker marks, like the ones made by 2B lead, and this is closer to an HB or even an H. I like the weight of history the beta pen carries, for all its modern styling. I’ll keep it.

I downloaded MacJournal to see if I can return to offline editing, the way I used to with iBlog.

Graffiti from June 30, 1921.

I’ve been liking brush pens lately. From none, I now own three. One of them is the Akashiya Bamboo brush pen, which I must admit I bought because it was made of bamboo plus it had butterflies on it.

There is a butterfly on the cap.

There are two butterflies on the barrel, but I don’t think they’re ganging up on the loner up there.

The cap pulls off to reveal a plastic section. That section unscrews from the barrel so you can put in a cartridge or converter. This brush pen came with a box of 3 cartridges. I believe a Platinum converter will fit (if I remember the jetpens write-up correctly). The brush is made of synthetic hair, and reminds me of the Aquash brush.

To allow the plastic section to screw in, there is a threaded brass fitting inside the bamboo barrel.

The brush pen is longer than ordinary pens, and feels very light and easy to use.

It is slightly longer, capped, than a full-length colored pencil.

It takes some getting used to. For this one, I wanted to make very fast, loose strokes.

This one has more detail. (Obviously done during a longer meeting than the previous doodle.)

The ink in the supplied cartridges dries very glossy and black. I hope it’s available in bottles.

Good pens can come by way of good pen friends, and this set would not be here without the kindness of Andy Russell. In my little pen world, he’s the Conway Stewart-and-other-English-pens encyclopedia.

Students who struggled through Shakespeare might catch the allusion. Ophelia said, “There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance” in Hamlet. My Rosemary set came in a presentation box, whose colors make me think of Van Gogh’s sunflowers caught in the rain. Then, as now, pens were popular gifts. According to writetime.co.uk, Rosemary pens were established in the early to mid 1920s.

The golden-colored foil lining is mostly intact. Inside the box is a product leaflet and a black reticule. (I love that word. Reticule. Mmm. So much better than purse.)

Rosemary seems to have been a sub-brand of National Security, which in turn was a mark owned by British Carbon Papers, Ltd. British Carbon outsourced the manufacture of these pens to other English pen makers, including Conway Stewart.

Inside the reticule (made flirty with a swinging tassel!), everything a bright young lady zipping around the city needs. A pencil to dash off a grocery list, a powder puff in crushed silk to freshen up between appointments, a ringtop fountain pen for thank-you notes, and a pocket comb to smooth adventurous ringlets before rushing home.

Here’s another shot of the set.

Whoever owned this set took it out once in a while to admire it, and used the pen and pencil sparingly.

I have many RMHR (red mottled hard rubber) pens in my collection. These are very fine examples. I’m lucky they were kept in their reticule, away from sunlight. And the imprints are stunning. I love how the y descender in Rosemary loops up and becomes a sprig of what else, rosemary.

The nib is smooth and firm. I wasn’t able to take pictures of writing samples; I’ll do that next week.

Thanks, Andy, for paving the way for me to have this sweet piece of history.

You know how people band together to petition companies to bring back products?

I’m sure we won’t get enough to bring back the Osmiroid Drawing Pen Set, but for the sake of entry-level fountain pen obsessionistas, we should try. Where else can you get a nib with an overfeed, a medium stub and a copperplate nib in one package, together with a lever-filling pen body?

Seven assorted nibs. This was a great find on eBay, what I like to call a blurry photo win.

These are compatible with Esterbrook Renew-Points, according to Richard’s Pens (scroll down), but I haven’t tried that. There are more than enough nibs here for hours of playtime: Rola Extra Fine, Rola Hard Fine, Rola Soft Fine, Rola Hard Medium, Rola Soft Medium, Copperplate and Sketch.

I do have another Sketch nib in another Osmiroid. This one has most of the iridium intact, but it feels like it was the most-used one in the group.

The “hardness” or stiffness of the nib is achieved by changing the shape. The soft medium has sloping shoulders to allow the nib to feel “soft” while in use, whereas the hard nib has broad shoulders that taper to a stub-like shape. Even the feeds are different.

Is there enough difference in the way the nibs write to make each one valuable for someone who loves to draw?

Like most nib choices, it comes down to 1) feel in the hand during writing and 2) line on paper. The Sketch nib is slightly oblique, slightly stubby, and semi-flex.

I’ve enlarged all these samples for a better appreciation of the quality of the lines.

The Copperplate nib has very long tines, which allow it to become semi-flex, even if the metal itself feels like thick steel.

The medium hard and medium soft stubs don’t look that different on paper, as you can see. The difference is in how they feel while being used. The medium hard feels like a steel calligraphy nib; the medium soft feels closer to a standard gold nib.

I got mine for less than USD 50 on eBay. Good luck hunting down your set – it’s worth it.

I couldn’t buy everything. Damn.

I tried to describe what I wanted in a brush – as if I knew – to the helpful lady in Man Luen Choon. I said, “Bouncy.” And “I’m just starting.” She said, “Wolf.” So I got wolf. In small, medium and large. I also decided to get an auspicious dragon wolf (because it was auspicious) and a large mixed-hair brush whose other end was pointed bamboo, to mark outlines on paper before painting.

Here’s the pointy end. It even has a breathing hole! I don’t know why.

This is a suspension of some sort. It makes special effects when mixed with sumi ink.

It can be applied directly onto paper, or mixed with ink before application.

I also bought a notebook.

It has rectangles inside. I assume they’re for quatrains. I can’t use them properly, so I intend to play with them in my own way.

These are very thin, delicate sheets.

When held up to the light, it is clearly watermarked.

I tried to use the watermark as a guide, but I need x-ray vision to make it work.

So far, the bigger brushes seem to make the finer lines. Go figure.

I’m not good at this! Gah. The chop is a gift from my friend and ex-accomplice in advertising, Trisha.

I pretended to make a dragon. Here’s a much better one (video).

There’s so much to learn. Dear universe, please lighten my hand, steady my shoulder, and unfog my glasses.

I went to Hong Kong for work. I came back with too many notebooks, too many Uni Style + Fit refills, too many linen tops from Muji, and not enough booty from Man Luen Choon, Chinese Cultural and Artist Supplies.

Man Luen Choon is online, and has an English sitemap, which is not comprehensive but is still helpful. I and my poor sense of direction got on the MTR at Causeway Bay, and got off at Sheung Wan. I knew I was on the right track when I saw the Unicorn Trade Centre. Of course there were unicorns where I was going. How could there not be?

I crossed the street and almost missed the right turn into Wing Kut street. Note to those who wish to go: turn right into Wing Kut before Mannings. And after you take two steps, look up. Otherwise you’ll miss the only sign.

Take the elevator to the second floor. Avoid all surly people exiting. And as soon as the elevator door opens, you will be greeted with a very happy sight.

The shop is packed with books and art supplies, all of which made me wish that I knew Chinese. Every surface has something on it. I had to pause to make sure I wasn’t drooling on the parquet floor. That tower to the left is liquid ink, from super cheap to super expensive; brushes; palettes in plastic and porcelain. To the right is paper, and books, books, books.

There is another tower of brushes, and more brushes to the left and right of the tower. You want horse, rabbit, goat, wolf, chicken, mixed?  You want vegetables? Tea? (Okay, no vegetables, unless bamboo handles count.) (No tea either.)

There is a brush for everyone. Everyone.

I was lucky there was a lady who could explain to me what the different brushes were for, and who gave me advice on which ones to get. She believes in experimentation, though, and says that’s why they stock so many different kinds of brushes, because everyone has their own way of using the brush which they must discover.

She told me not to get a large brush if I was only going to use the tip for fine lines, as it would be a waste.

There is a bewildering assortment of paper, bound or loose, big rolls, small rolls, colored, handmade, gilt, plain.  There are even fans ready to be painted.

Color abounds, in cakes, ready-to-use palettes, Japanese, Chinese, pigments in tubes waiting to be crushed and mixed with your choice of binder.

You can learn to carve your own chop. There are sets for beginners, and blank chops and carving tools for the more learned.

There are many cinnabar pastes to choose from. Ink sticks, ink in bottles, ink in tubes – I suspect if you asked for charcoal, binder, and a mortar and pestle, they’d have those in stock too.

I left the shop with paper, brushes, ink, and an additive which is supposed to produce cloud-like effects. I do wish I’d gotten pigment to experiment with, and the beginners’ chop carving set. Then again, I now have more to look forward to when I return.

That’s what I call it. I wonder if it has an official name.

The original owner’s initials are engraved on the cap band. I’ve taken to calling this the “Why Not” pen as a result.

The imprint on the barrel is fairly strong. I don’t think W.N. used this pen much. Why not? I have no idea. “Safety screw cap” means – I believe – that unlike unthreaded caps, screw caps allow for gradual release of pressure, so no nasty ink surprises when a cap is pulled off.

There’s also an imprint on the cap.

And another on the feed. Mabie Todd was apparently huge on brand building, and stamped “Swan” onto every part of the pen that could be mistaken for a part from another pen. (So what about those quotation marks? Were they for emphasis? In today’s usage, quotes behave like an aura of irony around a word. To wit: They’re “dating.” She’s “interesting.” He’s “enthusiastic.”)

On to the nib. (Which is also branded Mabie Todd Swan). The beautiful metal overfeed makes sure the nib never runs dry. Here, you can see the ink pooled under the overfeed, ready to be commanded by gravity and capillary action.

Here’s what the overfeed looks like from the top.

Caloy asked me if the overfeed restricted how the tines behaved during a downstroke. It doesn’t seem to.

I dropped Pilot yama-guri ink into the barrel and the pen just wrote by itself.

Early Swan nibs are almost always generously flexy, and this is no exception. It’s already in regular use.

There, I’ve said it. It’s a very flexible nib, the closest to vintage flex of all modern nibs, but being in a cartridge/converter filler and having such a stingy feed just cripples it. Pilot, do us all a favor. Change the feed and make an eyedropper for this poorly-served nib. You should have an eyedropper in your archives!

When I first got my Pilot 742 FA, I was very impressed. After several fills, I couldn’t ignore how often it would stutter in the middle of a stroke – the ink flow simply couldn’t keep up. I think for a normal (read: non-flex addict) user, this would not even emerge as a problem. I cracked the feed when I tried to remedy the flow problem.

I pulled out the FA nib, and after several failed tries, found a Vacumatic feed that seemed to fit, and installed both in a Waterman 12.

I have taken to calling it the Frankenpen Xtreme.

The FA nib tended to stand away from a flat feed, so there was no flow. The Vac’s rounded feed worked a lot better.

And here’s how it behaves now.

It’s just that they call it a “medicine/receipt organizer, large.”

Inside, it has zippered plastic pockets. Each one can hold around a dozen pencils. The pockets are stitched to the spine of the case.

There’s no “give” on the sides, so the pencils naturally lie flat and don’t roll around much. These are Cretacolor Aqua Monolith pencils and they are on the fragile side, so I’m glad to report that no pencil has been broken in the course of this experiment. I’ve been lugging them around for months.

Every case has 6 pockets. More organized artist doodlers will most likely use this feature to arrange their pencils by color family. I really should do that sometime. Other pockets can be used for erasers, waterbrushes, even these Peerless watercolors I’ve been thinking of getting.

Another Beabi case holds my Derwent Inktense and Graphitint pencils.

This is what they look like from the side.

Beabi has an inactive Facebook page. Come on guys, you bring such joy to the obsessive-compulsive in all of us – surely you can’t begrudge your fans at least an online catalog?