Thread: Dip Pens

I recently bought a bottle of Noodlers Blue Ghost. I haven't inked a pen with it yet but would like to find a pen pal with a black light to try it out with. Any interest?

This thread, re-inspiring my interest in the fine art of penmanship, has got me thinking about how much (or little in this case) I do actually write, as opposed to typing/email etc. The art of letter writing is almost a lost art I think. Following that train of thought led me to thinking what people tended to write about in the past, to what they might write about today (in those rare cases that they put pen to paper, but I was thinking more of the emails written these days) .

The thoughts were fairly generalised, possibly romanticised in my mind, which put me off getting back into writing letters as such, as my life, and what happens in it is fairly mundane.

However! I did think about a few other things along the same lines. Things like, how I used to write to my father when he was alive, and wishing I had learnt more about him and his life. From what his father, my grandfather, was like and my own Dads childhood, on into his adult life. I realised just how little I knew about him and my grandparents, his parents.

I decided then and there, that I would write a letter, probably a rather long one in fact. This letter will never be posted. This letter will be hand-written (of course). And it will be tell the story, as best that it can, with the knowledge that I have, of my fathers life, and my life. Not a diary of events or a journal, but a letter, leading up to the point that I sit down to write it. The letter will be addressed to my daughters, so that they might know a bit about their grandfather and also their fathers life up to the here and now.

I hope to achieve giving my girls the gift of understanding and, at the same time, I will be practicing, and hopefully improving, my writing and lettering skills. I might end up going through a bit of ink, I may end up using different types of pens. Just not modern 'biro' styles. That in itself should be seen as part of who I am and how I think etc, but I will write about that in any case, as it may be passed over if I don't.

I don't want my children to have the same void of knowledge about me, as I do about my own father.

This train of thought may also have come about from my sub-concious constantly reminding my concious, that in four years time, I will be as old as my father was when he died.

Now I'm feeling morose...Time to have a cup of tea I think, and start noting down questions I would have asked my father if I had have had a chance to ask them.


Mick

There's nothing wrong with being morose, at times. A good cry is rather invigorating, too. That's a great idea of yours. I swapped post cards for a while on a fountain pen web site I frequented, that was fun...

(Sadly I believe the sites use of script is limited!)

Mick,
That sounds like a fantastic idea for anyone with kids. A letter to my daughter to be opened when she turns 21.

Just a sec, what are we starting Monday? Crying, using a dip pen at work or writing post cards?

I think it may have been a reference to the use of the font...I could be wrong though, he may have been referring to crying!


Mick

The first day back at work after the weekend always makes me feel like crying.

On the other hand, many of the other teachers and students at school think I am crazy. It would be fun to start using a dip pen at work and remove all doubt.

You just let us know what they say then mate. Love to hear direct quotes .


Mick

I too have discovered the use of dip pens recently. The spencerian method that someone mentioned before is something I am working on. Other than sanding on old blades for restoration, this is my therapy. I have a book with some lessons and space to write in, I work on a few pages a day and it keeps me sane. I just recently got an old antique traveling writing lap desk for writing to complete the experience. Its currently in the mail but I can't wait. Glad to see I'm not the only strange one messing with old pens.