Vacation Photos: Blackwing in the Canadian Rockies

Palomino Blackwing in Jasper and Banff National Parks, Alberta, Canada.  Enjoy.

June 1: Happy Birthday Henry Beston

Writer and naturalist Henry Beston was born on June 1st 1888.  He is best known for The Outermost House:  A Year of Life on the Great Beach of Cape Cod, which he wrote in 1925 as he struggled with the trauma of surviving World War I.  While many veteran intellectuals turned to a destructive lifestyle (think: Earnest Hemingway), Beston sought the refuge of nature to heal his soul.

When I need to heal my soul, I turn to Henry Beston.  The Outermost House is one of those rare works that rejuvenates through introspection and observation.  Beston's work is not devoid of surmising and making judgements, though.  Beston is a critic of modernity, the machine, the oil fouling the beach from the barges, and modern civilization that outrages our sense of smell.

To my mind, we live too completely by the eye.  I like a good smell...

What a stench modern civilization breathes, and how have we ever learned to endure that foul blue air?

We ought to keep all senses vibrant and alive.  Had we done so, we should never have built a civilization which outrages them, which so outrages them, indeed, that a vicious circle has been established and the dull sense grow duller.

I understand that Henry Beston wrote The Outermost House with a pencil, and that he was affronted by the mechanical sound of the typewriter, which interfered with the rhythm of his narrative.

Rachel Carson is known to have said that Henry Beston was the only author who ever influenced her work.

You can join Henry Beston at the outermost house on the outer beach of Eastham, Cape Cod.   By Naucet light.  With the wind, the sand, the birds and the sea as your companions. 

Happy Birthday, Henry.

Pencil Week 2014: longhand writing = learning

Dixon Ticonderoga No. 2 sharpened with a Kum 2-step long point sharpener.

May 26-31, 2014 is pencil week.  Did you know there was such a week?  I imagine that there are pencil lovers around the globe appreciating their pencils, sharing pencil lore, and engaging in pencil revelry.  Camaraderie of the pencil.  I love it.

This week The Washington Post had an article about recent research published in Psychological Science about the increased learning among students who take notes longhand versus with a keyboard.  Researchers found that students performed better in conceptual understanding and factual content when they took notes longhand during lectures.

Something is going on in the brain.

Or, are we typing too fast, and does that make us lazy?  Is it easier to just transcribe what is heard while taking notes with a keyboard?  Longhand note-taking is more conducive to summarizing the points in the lecture, which entails another layer of "thinking".  That thinking transfers to learning, remembering what is learned, and manipulating concepts makes a lot of sense. 

Yet, the researchers stated that keyboard note-takers who were asked to summarize points in their notes as if they were writing longhand didn't perform better.

As the debate continues over the loss of handwriting skills from public schools across the nation, cognitive science is stepping in with interpretations of the significance of the emergence of a heavy reliance upon the keyboard in learning.

While we deconstruct the social implications of the loss of handwriting in education, the aesthetics should also be considered.  Writing longhand is a lot of fun.  With a nice pencil, it is an experience nonparallel.

I wonder if the folks in the study who learned more by taking notes longhand actually enjoyed the lectures and studying more?

Has the simple feat of handwriting become an act of rebellion?

This act that I am performing, writing in cursive, is accomplished less frequently these days.  I recently searched #cursive on twitter, which itself seems an oxymoron, and found numerous claims that cursive hadn’t been used in years, was forgotten, or was abandoned.  

This begs the question, who “needs” to learn the skill of handwriting in the era of the keyboard?  One opinion piece in the Washington Post entitled "Good riddance, cursive" compared the skill of writing cursive to forging horse-shoes, lute playing or jousting.  (At least those skills could come in handy at Renaissance Fairs.)

Therefore, I ask the following questions.   

Did we abandon the bicycle with the advent of the automobile?  Did we abandon painting with the invention of photography?  Aren’t bicycles and paintings some of the joys in life?  Why would we abandon a skill like cursive with the proliferation of the keyboard?  Are we merely rote machines who communicate?

That cursive is no longer being taught in many schools means that the choice of how to communicate is being intentionally limited.  Is the choice that is not dependent upon the consumption of high technology being passed over in the name of efficiency?  Of progress?

Writing cursive is an experience void of advertising pop-ups, critical software updates and background scans.  It cannot be accessed remotely or scanned by internet spiders, the NSA, or antivirus software.  In this post-post-modern era of high tech communication, the simple feat of handwriting is an act of rebellion.

Many of the best works were written longhand, from the U.S. Constitution to Henry Beston’s The Outermost House.  While these works were revolutionary in their own time, is it now the technique of their composition that is unconventional?

Your cursive notes, letter, or draft manuscript are analog.  In the era of digital communication, data centers and wireless networks that are powered by electricity, with their own networks and resource consumption needs, analog may be the last impediment to efficiency or progress.  But hasn’t progress always been a blind faith in an unknown future without questioning whether it is desirable, beneficial or sustainable?

I am going to form my thoughts and write them down by the natural morning light, not the glow of the computer screen.   

In my act of sedition against efficiency and progress, I challenge the dominance of digital communication and the impact that it has in our own future.  I am writing cursive.

Pencil Smackdown: General's Kimberly 2B vs. all the Palomino Blackwings

A historian and scholar of art and tattoos accustomed to the Blackwing needs a pencil for the archives that doesn't have an eraser.  I do not have a huge collection of wooden pencils, and I am more of a mechanical pencil gal, but I thought maybe the General's Kimberly 2B might suit.

Any fellow stationery nerds? I use Blackwing pencils, but they're no good in archives, as they have erasers. What's a good alternative?
— Dr. Matt Lodder (@mattlodder) May 17, 2014

How does the Kimberly compare?  Being a fan of 2B lead, I only have the Kimberly in 2B.  Writing with it is enjoyable.  The point is quite long-lasting.  The graphite is not as dark, but the pencil makes a wonderful noise on the paper (one sheet of paper on my wooden clipboard, shown).  The graphite does not smudge, except just slightly from very deliberate rubbing.

The Blackwings, all three, are favorites for wooden pencils and are well loved by many.

Left to right:  General's Kimberly 2B, Palomino Blackwing 602, Blackwing Pearl and Blackwing.

The side-by-side comparison of the Blackwings to the General's Kimberly makes me second-guess my earlier suggestion. Perhaps it would be better to get a saw and cut the ferrule off the Blackwing?

Oh, what we will do to and for our pencils! 

Sharpening a Palomino Blackwing Pencil

The Palomino Blackwing, the relaunch of the famous Blackwing Pencil

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Kum makes a special pencil sharpener with the Palomino Blackwing brand.  It is a 2-step long-point sharpener.

Getting started sharpening the Palomino Blackwing pencil with the Kum Palomino Blackwing sharpener is an exciting experience.

The wood comes off the pencil in a delicate curl.

The curl makes a crown.  The sound of this sharpener cutting the wood is fantastic.

When the lead hits the stop, we are done with the first step.  Notice that the blade did not cut the lead,  only the wood.  Notice how the blades are replaceable?

Next we sharpen the lead with the second blade.  It only takes a few twists to put a fine point on the pencil.

All done.  A perfectly sharpened Palomino Blackwing pencil.

Mechanical pencil with heart and soul

I recently chanced upn an opinion piece from The New Yorker, written in 2012 by former staffer Mary Norris, about her pursuit of the perfect pencil.

While ultimately she landed upon the Palimino Blackwing, which is a wonderful pencil, she made a statement in her piece that has set me back:  "Someone at the office suggested I try a mechanical pencil, but I found it soulless."

I am sure that there are plenty of pencils in this world, not to mention mechanical pencils, that are difficult to find a personal connection with.  That said, I am saddened by such a blanket statement.  Who would say such a thing about a pencil?

To Mary Norris, author of My Life in Pencils, if you are ever googling yourself and happen upon this, I would like to introduce you to my pencil soul mate.  It is a mechanical pencil.  It is the Alvin Draftmatic.

I have written many thousands of pages with an Alvin Draftmatic, so I know it well.  I prefer a bold line, so I use a 0.9mm lead, and I change out my lead based upon the weather conditions and the type of the paper I am writing on. 

The Alvin Draftmatic has many fine qualities:

It is the exact proper weight, size and dimension for my hand.

The plastic barrel warms slightly while being used and feels like an extension of my mind, not a tool.

The knurling is perfectly milled and does not cause calluses on my fingers, even with extensive use for days (or weeks, or months) on end.

The clip is easy to remove (I don't want a clip on my pencil at all).

If the paper is right, I am using a good wooden clipboard, I am comfortably seated, and I have the proper lead, I can write for hours in complete joy without hand fatigue.

I trust this pencil.  I have used it for years and it has not failed.  The mechanism has not broken.  The pencil is solid, sturdy and dependable.

Finally, it is a pleasure to write with.

In my view, that is the making of a pencil soul mate.

Not all mechanical pencils are created equal.  The Alvin Draftmatic is a mechanical pencil with heart and soul.