Me and my pencil.
““The pencil, the tool of doodlers, stands for thinking and creativity, but at the same time as the toy of children, it symbolises spontaneity and immaturity.’ ”
Solving a product design problem is a mix of the physical, the virtual and the cerebral. The journey may tackle mechanics and form, materials or finance but at some point, it involves a pencil. Pencils are significant in my world. It has never been about just picking one up and drawing. Liking the pencil that I am using is important. The way it feels, the sound it makes, the quality of the line and the way it travels across the page are all factors that make the selection so personal.
I have had a pencil with me for most of my life. I doodle and scribble and scratch and mark incessantly. A swish here, a jot there, a calculation or a diagram. Flicking through my countless old notebooks, sketchbooks and scraps of paper, journeying into my past, I was drawn to the marks I had made with my humble pencils. The graphite miles are a testament to the paths travelled. Some tracks are fresh, some retrodden, others are gateways or crossroads and so many are just blind alleys. Whilst not the first stop when creating a new product, putting a mark on paper is certainly one of the most important. The pencils which have accompanied most of that journey are long gone, sharpened down to a stub, discarded, broken or lost. Some place out there, a lonely HB pencil lies with its back 3 centimetres cut away and marked in black Biro, ‘LEONIDA’. It will have been lonely for a long time; I do not label my pencils anymore. I have not done so for years.
Some distinctions are obvious, the characteristics of lead hardness, pencil shape or pencil type, even the colour of the casing. These functional, aesthetic design elements are not the things that engage me. Once the pencil is in the hand all I am seeing is the mark it makes. Real distinction is to be found elsewhere, I certainly know what I do not like, and I am still looking for my perfect pencil.
As a designer I have observed that the pencil I choose links directly to the nature of the output. I know what I want to do and choose accordingly. The tool I select to make calculations or to map the characteristics of a mechanism will differ from the one I choose when constructing the path of a development program or tracing the curve of a chairs back or a tables leg. The shift from task to task is fluid and so one pencil may end up being used inappropriately, but that seldom lasts. A break for a cup of tea and I find myself switching from soft Palomino to precise Faber. How does the plethora of pencil types I use make any sense in the context of a ‘less but better’ studio ethos? I have pondered this at length and conclude as follows. My subset of pencils is not defined by choices of one brand over another. It is not a fashion thing. Each pencil has its unique feel and quality, the easy flow of the Blackwing does not encourage the precision of my 4600 clutch, or my 200 series Pentels. If it is a time for ideas, I turn to the Faber 4600 clutch or the 0.9 Pentel. The clutch means I can get a better range of line, but I do have to stop and sharpen. The 0.9 means no interruptions to sharpen, a soft broad lead which is fluid enough but not too sloppy. If I need to measure and mark then the Pentels win, but a 0.5 and not a 0.9 or even 0.7. I will rarely choose a 0.3 as its line is too thin for failing eyes. In any case I do not like the sound it makes or the way it feels, too precarious, like a stiletto on ice.
Unlike the permanence of the pen the pencil also encourages experimentation. This simple technology means even the most ludicrous ideas can be committed to paper in the full knowledge that it they can always be erased. Its impermanence leads to ‘and immaturity’, flights of fancy, pipe dreams and whimsy. Asking novel questions, posing visual or theoretical curiosities gives us the opportunity for different thinking. Look back through the doodles and you start to uncover the subconscious, reveal questions and approaches beyond the rigid formulas of our daily routines. How many of us can search the past and uncover a common theme or stylistic approach or concept which reoccurs only morphing gradually over time. Original thinking is not easy, so any tool which helps the process has a certain relevance.
Surprisingly, few of the pencils I own include an eraser. Reflecting on this I have uncovered a truth that over the past 20 years I have only owned a couple of erasers. That certainly is not meant to sound boastful. The piles of notebooks and sketchbooks are evidence enough of the mistakes I perhaps should have rubbed out. I like to keep a continuous record of thoughts, both words and pictures. This is not unique. I hang on to the past in the hope that some occasional intellectual archaeology will uncover a fragment or two for future consideration. I do not typically embellish my notes and sketches, which are personal, I tend not to remove missteps. I have corrected this error and now always carry an eraser. In recent times this tool has been given a new role in my work. Not in any pejorative way I have come to think of the eraser as a negative pencil. Its job is to define the area around the item, it shapes the inverse. This blunt instrument works at the edge and helps creates volumes and spaces. Teamed with a sharp scalpel the eraser can be carved into points and edges and flats, or electronically it can be used to rub back to a shape at the tip of a digital stylus. It still feels cumbersome and is generally there to tidy up and refine rather than initiate but it all helps. On the rare occasions it is used in its traditional role as assassin, it never fails.
When do I know I have found the right pencil? The process is not instant for sure, and while there have been some flirtations, the Faber-Castell Grip 2001 came and was soon gone, Rotring Tikky stayed a while as did the Derwent Graphic, but certainty comes from longevity. The pencils I always returned to are the ones I still use. I will probably always be tempted to try another pencil, there are still so many brands untested, but like my new Ticonderoga Black they may not pass muster. Each of the pencils I use is different and has its own highly tunes function.
Pencils have an innate quality, with range of touch that is in my opinion is unsurpassed. Unlike with most pens (more about the Bic Biro some other time), light scribble can sit on top of light scribble alongside hard line and soft fade. The experience is meditative, which cannot be said for the pen and is a long way off for any form of electronic mark making. About electronic mark making I am not a Luddite, far from it. From my first Palm pilot and then various generations of Windows phones, Android and Apple devices I have been scribbling electronically. This morning I even fashioned a ‘stylus’ for my phone out of a cotton bud and some copper tape. A dab of water and a light touch and I have a new marking tool. I draw the line at gimmicky smart pens, which seem like a great idea until you have to use them, please don’t waste your money. My A3 pad sized graphics tablet on the other hand, paired with the right software is fun. I get to use lots of different tools, no sharpening, easy to copy, built in guides and rulers, endless paper, all the whistles and bells but it still lacks the immediacy of my pencil. The pencil wins again.
My pencil case is a perfectly well-balanced tool kit and will survive so long as it needs to carry my pencils. One day I may settle on just one, but I am not holding my breath. I don’t label my pencils anymore, maybe it’s time I started again.