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A trying day. One generally hopes a column will take about four hours to write, but today it was closer to seven.
Oblige me, if you will, by fetching yourself a felt-tip pen. Use it to write on some paper. Nice, isn't it? Smooth, easy, nice crisp lines?
Now write on something a little rougher - some coarse cardboard, perhaps, or some wood. See how it's not so easy to make nice smooth lines? Not so easy to move the pen over the surface?
Now write on some sandpaper.
Hard, isn't it? Isn't it difficult to make nice lines? And - write for a little longer - doesn't it make a damn awful mess of the pen really fast? Reduce the nib to shreds, and give you a line that is only straight by chance?
Well, that was my day.
Parchment is very, very variable in texture, depending on the state of the animal it came from and the type of preparation it's had. Sometimes it is unbelievably silky-smooth and utter heavenly bliss to write on, sometimes it is perfectly acceptable and quite enjoyable, and sometimes it's scratchy and sandpapery and a job which should take four hours takes seven. This, incidentally, is why some sections of an old Torah will flake dreadfully while other sections in the same Torah will be perfectly fine - variance in parchment texture. Quite normal - one of the hazards of the job.
One can address today's sandpapery-surface problem to some degree by treating the surface with superfine-grade sandpaper (touche!), rubbing it with pounce, burnishing it, and doing another round of pounce. Which, let me tell you, takes a jolly old while, and should not be attempted whilst one's ink is still wet.
Oblige me, if you will, by fetching yourself a felt-tip pen. Use it to write on some paper. Nice, isn't it? Smooth, easy, nice crisp lines?
Now write on something a little rougher - some coarse cardboard, perhaps, or some wood. See how it's not so easy to make nice smooth lines? Not so easy to move the pen over the surface?
Now write on some sandpaper.
Hard, isn't it? Isn't it difficult to make nice lines? And - write for a little longer - doesn't it make a damn awful mess of the pen really fast? Reduce the nib to shreds, and give you a line that is only straight by chance?
Well, that was my day.
Parchment is very, very variable in texture, depending on the state of the animal it came from and the type of preparation it's had. Sometimes it is unbelievably silky-smooth and utter heavenly bliss to write on, sometimes it is perfectly acceptable and quite enjoyable, and sometimes it's scratchy and sandpapery and a job which should take four hours takes seven. This, incidentally, is why some sections of an old Torah will flake dreadfully while other sections in the same Torah will be perfectly fine - variance in parchment texture. Quite normal - one of the hazards of the job.
One can address today's sandpapery-surface problem to some degree by treating the surface with superfine-grade sandpaper (touche!), rubbing it with pounce, burnishing it, and doing another round of pounce. Which, let me tell you, takes a jolly old while, and should not be attempted whilst one's ink is still wet.
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