I did the next best thing and drove up to Santa Barbara for an afternoon of bicycling, sunshine, and fuzzies (which of course were warm).

I wish you could have been there with me, but since you couldn’t make it (or we somehow missed each other), I took some snapshots and strung ‘em together for your visual enjoyment =)

Santa Barbara Pier from Mon Bon Voyage on Vimeo.

I hope you enjoy the trip as much as I did! One special note: I used my iPhone in a jazz club to surreptitiously record the music you’ll hear during the New Orleans pictures =)

(Video: Watch this video on the post page)

Lovingly referred to as: NaNoWriMo

Fifty thousand words in thirty days.

On your marks. Get set. Write!

]]> http://monbonvoyage.com/2009/11/01/captains-log-day-17011/feed/ 0 http://monbonvoyage.com/2009/03/30/j-herbin-vert-reseda/ http://monbonvoyage.com/2009/03/30/j-herbin-vert-reseda/#comments Tue, 31 Mar 2009 04:55:01 +0000 ECSchneider http://monbonvoyage.com/?p=306 Mon Dieu! Un, deux, trois! Crème brûlée! Mardi gras!

Something about this J Herbin Vert Réséda makes me reach for any and all French words that are tucked away in hidden corners of my alleged mind. It’s a beautiful green, which is not something you’ll see me type very often. I’m not overly fond of green inks, but this one rates high on the Moxie Meter and has both my respect and attention.

If you like beaucoup saturation, use this with a wet nib. You’ll not be disappointed. If you want something less énergique, a drier nib will provide excellent results.

I was expecting dramatic shading from this ink but somehow could only demonstrate something subtle. We’ll call this a failure on my part.

Where feathering and bleeding are concerned, Vert Réséda is perfectly civilized on both Rhodia and Clairefontaine. When used on Moleskin paper, a hint of cantankerous behavior will be noted.

Drying time is excellent when applied in moderation. If you prefer wet nibs, then you’re already accustomed to a slightly longer dryer cycle.

If you like green ink and have not yet tried Vert Réséda, I’d advocate its placement on your shopping list. If you’ve had trouble finding a green ink to suit your needs and fancy (or your fancy needs), Vert Réséda might well be the magic mix. As for me, I’m off to practice French…

Click for Full Size Image

Click for Full Size Image

Please Note: You are not seeing the exact color of this ink. You are seeing the color as interpreted by my scanner, as compressed using JPEG, and as displayed by your monitor. Is it close to the real thing? Probably somewhat close. But exact it is not.

Ergo, therefore and hence, if you would like an honest to goodness, genuine, hand-written sample of this ink, just leave a comment stating such desire. I’ll be happy to send you a postcard*.

* Offer valid world-wide for as long as I have this ink on-hand. Offer void where prohibited, licensed or taxed. This item is furnished “as is”. No warranty is provided, whether express, implied or statutory, including, but not limited to, any warranty of merchatability or fitness for a particular purpose or any warranty that the contents of the item will be error-free.

Click for Larger Image

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Aurora 88

circa 1950

Nikargenta Cap

Flexible Medium Nib

5 3/8″ : 13.7cm Capped

Serial No. 44 73 99

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Imagine you could send your Parker 51 away to college. Imagine that the school of choice was located in northern Italy. Your 51 would learn Italian, ride a Vespa, embrace soccer, develop a fondness for fashion and be exposed to cutting edge design.

Your pen would return refined, more elegant and oddly sexy. Your pen would return… an Aurora 88!

Now don’t get your tines bent out of shape. I don’t mean to besmirch your precious 51. A near and dear to me 51 has been a member of my own crew for over two decades.

But there’s no avoiding the fact that the (vintage) Aurora 88 is superior to the Parker 51. And why would this not be the case? There’s no doubt in my mind that the 88′s designer, Capitano Marcello Nizzoli, was charged with the single objective of creating a pen that could compete with the 51. He excelled in his assignment.

Aesthetically, the lines and details of the Aurora are simply more pleasing to the eye. The cap of the 88 is only slightly longer than that of the 51, but as the 88 is not burdened by a prone-to-discoloration jewel, the streamlined appearance gives an illusion of more length. The ring separating the turning knob from the pen body adds subtle yet important visual appeal. And there’s an ink window! Who doesn’t love an ink window?

Functionally, the Aurora trumps the Parker by virtue of a piston filling mechanism. There’s a reason that even modern converters use a piston – the system works and works well. Additionally, the 88′s nib features less hood and more flex. The more exposed nib provides for easier inspection and cleaning while the flex allows for creativity on all points of sail. It’s a fun pen!

Certainly I’ll never force my 51 to walk the plank. It enjoys permanent station. Still, I know that I will favor the 88 when assigning daily duties. In fact, I’m looking to fill a few more quarter berths with these fine Italians.

Kritzler Oversize c1925

Kritzler Oversize

circa 1925

Rosewood

Kritzler 14kt No. 8 Nib

Gold Washed Lever and Clip

Gold Colored Cap Band (unknown metal)

Barrel Imprint: L. Kritzler Pen Co.

5 1/4” Capped

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Although most of any particular pen’s history is unknown, I’m still attracted to vintage models specifically because they have a past. I contemplate the pens in my collection and I ask the unanswerable: Who first bought this pen? Where? Why? What has it written? How many owners has it known? Has it been well used? How has it survived?

I rarely bother to ask who designed the pen or who assembled it. Most of my pens were manufactured by large, well-known pen companies. I assume they were designed by brilliant engineers and assembled in comfortable factories by nameless yet well-paid employees.

The pen featured in this post, however, begs me to ask: Who made this pen?

There can be no doubt that the maker of this pen was named Kritzler. The name appears on the barrel, on the clip, on the lever and on the nib. Kritzler’s first initial, L, is part of the barrel’s imprint. The initials LK are found in a circle on the lever’s end.

That’s probably as much fact as can be culled, but that doesn’t stop us from looking for more clues…

From a 1917 World War I Draft Registration Card completed in New York, we know that there was a Louis Kritzler living at 2105 Clinton Ave., New York City (The Bronx). His birthplace is listed as Mishkoltz, Hungary, his date of birth as February 8, 1887. This Mr. Kritzler had a wife and child, was medium of build, had black eyes, black hair, was not bald, and was in possession of two eyes, four limbs and all commonly attached extremities. He was described as stout. Given the other two choices of slender and medium, we can surmise that stout was the 1917 politically correct term for overweight.

The registration card also lists Louis Kritzler’s place of employment as Armeny & Marion. The Armeny & Marion Co. made pens at one time. Their address of record in 1890 matches the address on the registration card; 90 Nassaue St., New York.

Adding to the growing body of circumstantial evidence is Mr. Kritzler’s occupation as listed on the card: Gold Pens

I’ve been led to believe that what we call a nib today was commonly referred to as a pen up until the 1920′s. This would imply that Louis Kritzler was actually a maker of gold nibs.

So we have an L. Kritzler associated with the pen industry. But does all of the above conclusively prove that the L. Kritzler who made, assembled or at least arranged for the creation of my pen was a Hungarian immigrant living in New York City in the early 1900′s? Not really. But just how many L. Kritzler’s could there be in the world? And how many of those are listed on official government documents as gold pen tradesmen? Probably only this Mr. Kritzler. For my money, he’s my man.

Now I can go back to the even more elusive questions: Who first bought this pen? Why? What has it written?…

Pen & Cap Stand by Ragnar

One hallmark of a great parent is his or her willingness to be supportive of the many roads down which a child, of any age, wishes to venture.

Throughout my nearly forty-six years and down more paths than I care to admit, I have been blessed with the world’s most encouraging father: Ragnar

Case in point: Until January 2009, I had kept my fondness of fountain pens firmly under control. All of that changed when I found the Fountain Pen Network and realized that A) The world is chock full of other fountain pen fans, and B) They were buyin’ up all the pens!

I jumped into the fountain pen arena with great and long overdue abandon. On January 7, 2009, I owned three pens that had taken over twenty years to “amass”. Today, less than two months later, I own at least twenty-four – not including the several that I’m waiting for in the mail. And at every turn of this wonderful new fountain pen trail, who has been consistently supportive and understanding? Me Father.

As far as I know, Me Father has little true interest in fountain pens or any of the paraphernalia that surround the subject. Yet he’ll listen to me ramble for hours about any pen related subject that happens to blip across the radar screen of my attention. But beyond listening, he’ll pay attention and actually participate in the conversations!

At one point I mentioned that there were two camps within the fountain pen world – those who post and those who don’t. I admitted to being firmly in the no-post camp and voiced my desire for a place to put a cap while writing.

Well, Me Father heard that as a call to action. A few prototypes and many a labored hour later, he excitedly sped to my house. I know he was speeding because I happened to be outside when he turned the corner, wheels a’screeching. He simply couldn’t wait to deliver the Pen & Cap Stand that you see pictured in this post.

With a base of polished petrified wood (Brazilian fir) and some well placed, highly lacquered driftwood (one of which he hand carved to create the pen bed), it’s a gorgeous and extremely useful work of art. It has a prominent home on my desk and I use it on a daily basis. It is beautiful to look at, holds my in-use pen and cap, and has a unique ability to lift my spirits just because it was made by Me Father.

Thanks Dad!

Fleur du Crayon

I was rummaging through some old boxes yesterday in search of the many writing journals I have squirreled away, unused, over the years. I found a couple, but I also found a surprise.

Tucked neatly into a corner was a box containing pencils, sketch pads, and “teach yourself to draw” books of various flavors. I often wish that I could draw, but I’m quick to admit that I can’t. Or can I?

I thumbed through the sketch book and found, among the many practice exercises that I was obviously following from a book, the two drawings that you see in this post. They’re not show-stoppers. They won’t win prizes. But what they said to me was pointed: “Stop telling yourself that you can’t draw!”

I realized that what I’ve really been saying is that I haven’t taken the time necessary to study and practice my drawing skills. Drawing doesn’t come easily to me. It’s work, and the end results are not always worth the effort. But the truth is I can draw. At least a little. The fact that my skills have not improved is solely due to laziness on my part and the “you can’t draw” mantra that I’ve been playing in my head.

Dessin de Paysage

Do you have a similar discouraging mantra of any kind? Something saying that you “can’t” do x or “can’t” do y? If so, might I suggest that you reevaluate? We really can do anything into which we’re willing to put effort. I’ll never again say that I can’t draw. And I’ll be on the lookout for similar thought processes so that I can set a new course wherever necessary.

Fair Winds!

I’m anxiously awaiting two pens. One is an Esterbrook #32 dip pen and the other is my Pelikan M200 that has spent a week or two at the Dannzeman Fountain Pen Finishing School where it has been coerced (ground) into writing like a gentleman.

Water boils faster when subjected to microwaves. I wonder if that could improve the speed of my mail carrier…

Priority Mail? Oxymoron.

1937 Parker Vacumatic Standard

Parker Vacumatic Standard

1st Generation

2nd Quarter, 1937

Burgundy Pearl Celluloid

Striped Section

Striped Jewels

Triple Cap Bands

Lock-Down Filler

Two-Tone Medium Nib

I purchased this near-mint Vacumatic at the 2009 Los Angeles Pen Show from Dr. David Isaacson of Vacumania.

The pen is so stunningly beautiful that I simply stared at it for a week before I could bring myself to ink and use it. It’s a very smooth writer and in all likelihood will be the nicest Vacumatic I’ll ever own.

If I had to find fault, I’d say that the nib is a bit too medium for my tastes. I’ll send the pen to dannzeman for grinding just as soon as I can bear to part with it.