Dip pen nib experience: Leonardt General

The Leonardt General is yet another nib I was once crazy about. The reason I bought it was the same as for the other modern nibs: exploration in my early days of studying calligraphy. I had no idea what it was before it arrived. Bought alongside it were some models of fairly similar shape, such as the Brause 65B — the details differ, of course. My purchase price for the Leonardt General was less than a third of the Brause 65B's.

Once I started using it, I liked the feel of it immediately. It has a slender, elongated shape with a very narrow waist. But compared with the Brause 65B and the Sergent-Major №2500, it is still not narrow enough. Coming back to the shape: I think this shape gives the body of the nib itself a certain amount of elastic feedback, rather than confining the change in springiness to the tines. That design carries over into how it feels in the hand. When writing, I felt a kind of whole-nib deformation that was supple without getting out of control. I had never experienced anything like it before.

Before I actually started using the Leonardt General, I had tried the Brause 65B, and frankly the experience was very bad. Ink-flow stability was a major problem with the Brause 65B, and it made me quite irritable: either it would not write at all, or it would dump a great blob. I am certain that I had already removed the anti-rust coating. The shape of the front half of the Brause 65B's tines also differs slightly from the Leonardt General's — rounder. Which reminds me, I really need to get some good illustrations done soon.

After I started using the first Leonardt General, the ink flow was poor at first as well, but after a few writing sessions with acidic iron-gall blue-black ink it fixed itself. I used that nib for almost a month, until the "needle" point of the nib wore into a sharp corner, so that on the upstroke the nib would dig into the paper. After this happened over and over, I wrote it off as dead.

I examined the wear under a microscope and found that it was not the rough, fractured-looking wear of the Japanese G nibs, but smooth, mirror-like wear.

After that I broke out a new one, and found there seemed to be unit-to-unit variation: no matter how I treated it, the second one was never as good as the one that had worn out. So I opened yet another, and its ink flow was a little better.

The Leonardt General's springiness is medium, leaning slightly toward the larger side. It is less springy than the usual handful of influencer-famous nibs, but by no means stiff. I later acquired vintage nibs of similar shape, such as the Sergent-Major №2500. By comparison the №2500 is finer, and its stability and consistency are excellent, but it is also harder. If I had to choose, I would certainly choose the №2500. So the Leonardt General was shelved, and I have not bought any more.

In fairness this nib is still usable. Its workmanship is not up to the vintage nibs, but among modern nibs it is still fairly good. Nor is it expensive (when I talk about price, I generally mean the retail price on Chinese online shopping platforms). I do not know why Brause's modern nibs are so expensive, but they do not show quality commensurate with their price.

The Leonardt General still has no discussion around it online. When you search for it with a search engine or an AI, it always gets confused with the Leonardt G, so readers have to sort it out for themselves.

What this nib has been worth to me is that it made me aware of this entire type of nib, and then I found it had a whole crowd of look-alike relatives among the vintage nibs, not a few of which I like very much or use regularly.

Dip pen nib experience: Leonardt 256

Why did I originally buy the Leonardt 256? Looking back, it wasn't because I knew anything about it or had any expectations for it—I was simply "stamp collecting," so to speak. In short, during my beginner stage when I still knew little about vintage nibs, I tried to buy at least one of every modern nib I could get my hands on—mainly pointed nibs, of course; I didn't specifically venture into broad-edge nibs and the like—and by the time I got around to trying this one, its performance exceeded my expectations. In my direct impression, this nib looks somewhat long and sturdily built; its hairlines aren't especially fine, and a distinctive feature of its shape is the complete absence of shoulder cuts and side slits, while its flexibility is also on the low side. Yet in actual writing, the tip is still sharp. I later learned that with vintage nibs, even F or even M grade nibs can still be sharp, but the same can't necessarily be said of modern nibs. Moreover, it doesn't scratch the paper, and its flex curve and ink flow are both stable—one of my highest compliments for a nib is "stable and predictable."

So for a while this became one of my favorite nibs. I bought a dozen or so in all, and at one point thought I would be practicing with this nib long-term. But I soon discovered other models that were even better to use, and promptly had a change of heart and fell for something new. Still, to be fair, this really is a good, underrated nib. During the period when I liked it most, I searched all over the internet for information about it and found almost nothing—just comments from a few retailers, saying roughly that it's a drawing nib, suitable for writing on all sorts of surfaces, even porcelain, sturdy and durable, and so on. Plus a sparse handful of user reviews on calligraphy supply shops, mostly positive—and that was it. I suspect that apart from me, hardly anyone has ever written anything of any length about it.

All in all, with its low flexibility and unique overall design, this nib's design direction is destined to be unpopular in today's Western calligraphy community. But for me, it broadened my horizons: I discovered that a good nib doesn't necessarily have to be slender and highly flexible, nor does it have to be the famous Japanese "Big Three" G nibs or the Gillott 303, Hunt 101, Leonardt Principal EF, and the like. Don't let yourself be confined by the trendy, internet-famous models online—every calligraphy enthusiast or learner, based on their script of choice and personal preferences, has the right to choose a lesser-known model that suits them.

Later I also learned that this model is presumably a relic from the classical era, produced continuously from roughly a hundred years ago to the present day. Along the way its surface treatment and engraving may have changed, but the design hasn't, and its workmanship is unexpectedly good with decent consistency among modern Western pointed nibs, whose quality control is an enigma. On this point I'm somewhat puzzled: why is it that the same factory turns out some models with terrible workmanship that simply never get improved, while other models are steady and reliable? Is it because the Leonardardt 256 has a simple shape and thick material? But even the nib-slit cutting process, the step most prone to problems, hasn't gone wrong. How ironic—in this day and age, good workmanship and reliable quality actually leave me bewildered rather than feeling like a matter of course.

Looking at it now, this nib does have its limitations, but it was through this nib that I began to appreciate another type of nib design, and I subsequently discovered some vintage nibs that are just as slender and sturdy, yet several orders of magnitude higher in flexibility and sharpness. I think that unless a calligraphy learner is studying scripts like Engrosser's Script (ES) that rely on dramatic line contrast, if they can accept more restrained shading contrast, they can include this nib in their beginner-stage toolbox.

Dip pen nib experience: Leonardt G

The Leonardt G was the first non-Japanese nib I ever used, and looking back now, it may well have been destiny. It let me know early on that there's always something beyond, and that a nib's spring curve could be both crisp and refined. This laid the foundation for my later taste in nibs. Starting from this nib, I came to love all nibs that are stable, crisp, with clean and decisive spread and rebound, and with linear elasticity.

I got my first two Leonardt G nibs when I had just started learning calligraphy, as part of two G-nib bundle sets from a seller. After all of them were ruined, I specifically purchased 3 more, but those later three have sat unused ever since.

How should I put it—in short, my feelings toward it are a mix of love and hate. I love its just-right, stable, crisp yet still elegant springiness; what I hate is its terrible ink flow consistency. For a nib with decent wetting properties, it kept jumping back and forth between no ink flow at all and a giant blob, which puzzled me for quite some time.

This nib apparently has no plating, nor any stubborn anti-rust layer. I later examined all five samples under a microscope and found that it's most likely a manufacturing issue: the front section of the tines' slit on all of them fails to close up. And it's not the kind of overall non-closure you get after forcefully splitting the tines—rather, the rear section closes while the front section doesn't—presumably caused by substandard manufacturing processes, and I suspect proper quality control wasn't carried out either—which leads to problems with the capillary flow of ink.

Such a pity. I truly love the writing feel of this nib. Even though its hairlines aren't particularly fine, and it rusts very easily, these aren't the biggest problems for me. I feel it's like a magnified and rougher modern version of the Gillott 303.

In any case, the biggest problem is still the ink flow consistency. Unless the manufacturing process improves, I won't be buying it again.

Dip pen nib experience: Zebra G

The Zebra G looks similar to the Tachikawa G and Nikko G, but its craftsmanship is noticeably better. When brand new, it writes smoothly and sharply, without scratching the paper or any scratchiness, and produces delicate hairlines. Achieving this kind of balance is like dancing on the edge of a knife—there's real know-how involved. It's said that Zebra previously went through a quality decline caused by the retirement of veteran craftsmen, but the quality still looks quite good now. The Zebra G's flex curve still has a nonlinear character, but it's somewhat better than the other two Japanese G nibs.

The chrome plating wears through slightly more slowly than on the Tachikawa G and Nikko G—presumably the coating is a bit thicker. The titanium-plated version is said to be discontinued; its wear resistance is roughly twice as strong, not the ten times some people online claim, but it costs more than three times as much and feels slightly harder to write with, though largely the same overall—poor value for money. I've heard there's also another version, apparently tin-plated, but it's been discontinued for a long time.

My criterion for retiring a Japanese G nib is when the plating wears through and writing turns scratchy. After that, even repair through careful polishing doesn't hold up for long—it soon turns scratchy again. Why does wearing through the plating cause scratchiness? Why doesn't polishing help much? I look forward to more professional research on this. In short, Japanese G nibs are not as durable as they appear on the surface. They are indeed sturdy and tolerant of rough handling, but not wear-resistant. The chrome plating feels good during the initial period of use, but at the cost of poor ink affinity and a cliff-like drop in feel once the plating wears through.

I have roughly 120 chrome-plated nibs in stock, plus 10 titanium-plated ones. I had originally planned to give up on them. Later I unexpectedly discovered that while I don't like the feel of the Zebra G for Western calligraphy, it is extremely, extremely comfortable for writing Chinese—sharp, smooth, with just the right amount of initial flex—Chinese writing requires very little flex, but it can't be entirely absent, and the Zebra G hits exactly the right balance. When writing Chinese, it handles arbitrary twists and turns and switches in any direction with effortless ease; other nibs simply can't compare.

As for the ink flow instability issue, using a spring-type reservoir essentially solves it perfectly. And when writing Chinese, since less ink flow is needed, the reservoir isn't necessary either, making writing even lighter—like a feather dancing at the fingertips.

The titanium-plated version feels essentially the same to write with as the chrome-plated one, just slightly harder. The gold-colored outer coating is said online to be titanium nitride. In my own testing under identical conditions, its lifespan is about twice that of the chrome-plated version. But it's much more expensive—not economical.

Regarding these Japanese G nibs, according to the materials I've found, the Japanese manga industry commented long ago that they are very short-lived—manga artists wear out one nib after drawing just one to a few manuscript pages. That's even faster than how quickly I wear them out through writing. Why chrome plating specifically? It's said to be related to artists' usage habits and Japan's hot, humid climate.

Update 2026-11-07: I've completely given up. They're simply not wear-resistant enough. Even writing with a light hand and quick strokes, only in Chinese, a single nib can't last more than a week or two before the plating wears through, and then it immediately feels like a knife edge scraping sideways across the paper. I'm tired of it—giving up. From now on, whatever script I'm writing, I'll just use traditional bare steel nibs.

Dip pen nib experience: Tachikawa G

The Tachikawa G and Nikko G were purchased at the same time, two nibs in total. I believe they are essentially the same nib, differing only in the steel stamp—their characteristics and flaws are exactly alike. As I understand it, Nikko was originally an independent factory, which has since been acquired by Tachikawa and become one of its brands, so I suspect Tachikawa probably didn't make a separate mold for Nikko.

Both the Tachikawa G and Nikko G use relatively thick steel—thick throughout the entire nib, with no obvious thinning of the tines. They have horizontal pressed-in lines. In my view, this kind of pressed patterning is the product of labor-saving and cost-cutting measures in later-era classical nibs and modern nibs.

Dip pen nib experience: Nikko G

I encountered dip pens as a child, because both my parents were teachers, and back then the school would distribute whole boxes of dip pen nibs and some plastic pen holders to teachers for grading homework. The plastic pen holders were dual-purpose: the other end could hold a ballpoint refill, so they were hollow. As a child, I loved dipping them in soapy water to blow bubbles. I remember that around the mid-1990s, teachers stopped using this kind of pen, and dip pens disappeared from my life from then on.

Until early 2026, when, in the course of studying a language, I saw videos on Bilibili of teachers demonstrating handwriting with dip pens—more precisely, with modified fountain pens fitted with dip pen nibs. I thought the writing looked beautiful and the process was interesting. So, following mainstream recommendations online, I bought two G-nib sets on Taobao, containing four Nikko G nibs in total, two of which were marked "G Deluxe." Apart from being very slightly more elastic, I felt they were no different from the standard version. Whether "G Deluxe" is an official designation, or just sellers picking out more springy individuals for marketing purposes, I'm not sure. For the first month or so as a beginner, I used only the Nikko G. After finding it not very durable, I bought a box of ten—a small little paper box.

Nikko G nibs wore out very quickly in my hands. Looking back now, I think that besides issues with the nib's own design, it may also have been related to using too much force during my beginner stage. Back then, my grip and the way I applied pressure were both problematic, and I wasn't particular about paper either—I even used some Munken paper. When the writing started feeling increasingly scratchy, I simply examined the worn nib under a microscope, and found that on the worn nib, the plating layer and the steel core inside looked like a broken-open mooncake—the difference was very apparent. I later found that other modern Japanese G nibs wear the same way, whereas nibs made in other countries, as far as I've seen, all show mirror-like, uniform wear. The reason is probably the difference in hardness between the chrome plating and the steel core. There may be other causes as well.

The Nikko G is generally quite sturdy, and its plating is durable too, though slightly less so than the Zebra G. If the ink is highly acidic and maintenance is neglected, it will still corrode or rust.

Overall, I don't like the Nikko G. Even brand-new nibs write with a rough feel—not a sharp, scratchy sensation, but a feeling as if there were countless tiny saw teeth on the nib. I've examined brand-new nibs under a microscope and saw nothing abnormal, so the cause of this roughness remains a mystery to me to this day; I can only guess it's related to the material, the shape, or some other factor.

I also dislike the spring curve of Japanese G nibs; their response to pressure seems nonlinear. Very stiff at first, then opening up wide once a certain threshold is reached, like a hard spring, constantly fighting against your hand. Beginners who start out on G nibs can easily develop the bad habit of pressing too hard. It took me a long time to correct that myself.

I don't quite understand why the Western calligraphy community almost unanimously recommends the Nikko G. In my view, it's just a mass-produced industrial nib for manga drawing. All of its characteristics are designed for manga use. Its only advantage is that it's still in production, so there's no risk of it going out of stock for now. Thinking about it later, there's another reason: it's fairly sturdy and can take abuse, not easily ruined by beginners, so newcomers presumably aren't easily scared off. But even within this category, it isn't an excellent nib—the Zebra G, for example, is much better.

The rust-preventive oil on the Nikko G and its Japanese counterparts is extremely stubborn. I tried all sorts of miraculous methods, including saliva, potatoes, alcohol, toothpaste, dishwashing powder, citric acid, burning with fire, and acetone, but none worked very well. Even when there was slight improvement for a while, after leaving the nib unused for a few days, the problem returned to its old state. I suspect this has a lot to do with the hydrophobicity of the chrome plating. With iron gall blue-black ink, the hydrophobicity improves slightly, at the cost of faster corrosion.

Its ink capacity doesn't quite match its size—in other words, it's not good—mainly because it's inconsistent.

I've decided to give up and stop using this nib.

十年之后

近段时间来，感觉自己变得特别怀旧，总是回忆过去的人和事。
从前注册的帐号，荒废很久了，一个个找回密码，进去寻访曾经的痕迹。

这个博客是我大学刚毕业，找不到工作，苦闷无比的时候注册的，那时候虽然年轻，但是心态是灰暗的，没有好好写过什么东西，一晃十年就过去了，回顾自己过去的十年，恍恍惚惚，青春岁月如同白驹过隙，转眼就没了，如今的自己已经是标准的大叔了，可是有何长进呢，跟十年前相比？
十年前觉得自己年华虚度，努力也有点晚了，现在回想，真是too young，那时候知道努力去做事，现在可能就不是这样了吧，那以十年后的眼光回顾现在的我，是不是努力还为时未晚呢？

还是不能停止学习，停止努力啊。