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Dallas Pen Show redux...
Sep. 24th, 2016 10:03 pmIt occurs to me that there are few areas of human activity around which it would be impossible-to-hard to organize some kind of "show," which I would loosely define as an event where dealers come to display their wares, celebrities come to mingle with each other and the hoi polloi, and "fans" come to take it all in. In certain very basic essentials, a pen show is not different from a "comic con."
Gordon and I circulated in our own orbits yesterday. I circulated as widely as I could, which was not that hard a feat, given that the exhibitors too up two small to medium hotel meeting rooms. Some vendors showed up literally thousands of "vintage" pens (some might call them "antique," except the word technically does not describe pens that are a mere 50 or so years old) randing in price from ten or twenty dollars to several hundred dollars; others came to show—and sell—pens that were beautiful to behold and cost thousands of dollars (and which, as I understand it, nobody would actually "ink up," just as collectors of old, rare wines would never actually open the bottles that are their pride and joy).
There were vendors there selling paper, ink, pan carrying cases, and all of the accessories that accompany almost any such hobby.
Although it was my first pen show, I was buoyed by the fact that I already knew some of the vendors there, mostly through the local pen club. I had a pen repaired, and collected two critical pieces to repair a pen myself. I picked up a couple of bottles of ink that offered interesting shades in which to think on paper.
I had experts look at some other pens in my collection and tell me what had to be done to them to bring them to top shape. I compiled a wish list about a mile long of pens that I'd like to own someday in the future.
From time to time, Gordon and I would touch base and talk, and near the end of the day, we joined to small groups and exchanged views on all sorts of subjects.
This morning, we pretty much repeated the process.
I, for one, call it time well spent. My batteries feel recharged.
Excelsior!
Gordon and I circulated in our own orbits yesterday. I circulated as widely as I could, which was not that hard a feat, given that the exhibitors too up two small to medium hotel meeting rooms. Some vendors showed up literally thousands of "vintage" pens (some might call them "antique," except the word technically does not describe pens that are a mere 50 or so years old) randing in price from ten or twenty dollars to several hundred dollars; others came to show—and sell—pens that were beautiful to behold and cost thousands of dollars (and which, as I understand it, nobody would actually "ink up," just as collectors of old, rare wines would never actually open the bottles that are their pride and joy).
There were vendors there selling paper, ink, pan carrying cases, and all of the accessories that accompany almost any such hobby.
Although it was my first pen show, I was buoyed by the fact that I already knew some of the vendors there, mostly through the local pen club. I had a pen repaired, and collected two critical pieces to repair a pen myself. I picked up a couple of bottles of ink that offered interesting shades in which to think on paper.
I had experts look at some other pens in my collection and tell me what had to be done to them to bring them to top shape. I compiled a wish list about a mile long of pens that I'd like to own someday in the future.
From time to time, Gordon and I would touch base and talk, and near the end of the day, we joined to small groups and exchanged views on all sorts of subjects.
This morning, we pretty much repeated the process.
I, for one, call it time well spent. My batteries feel recharged.
Excelsior!
