(Caroline Foty's first fountain pen was a 1970s Sheaffer No Nonsense that still writes perfectly. Since she discovered pens by independent makers, she wants "one of each, please" and wants to meet all the makers. Maybe you do, too. She lives in Baltimore with pens, cats, and all kinds of fiber arts supplies.)
It was 2021, and COVID lockdowns were still a thing. Terry Tourangeau, an architect and father of two small children, needed a creative outlet. “I could work from home but my wife was unable to, so my days were filled with meetings, childcare, and exhaustion. I was spending every spare moment I had on the couch, and realized I needed to make a change.” He had a lathe sitting in a box in his workshop, but hadn’t set it up yet. “I couldn’t take any classes because of the pandemic, so I was a little intimidated to do it without any instruction. They can be pretty dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing, and I didn’t know where to start.”
During late night baby feedings, he watched videos about lathes. “A video of a guy named Mark Dreyer popped up in my feed one day. He had a really simple technique that made penmaking look easy.” While Tourangeau hadn’t set out to make pens, the seed had been planted from an unlikely source. “When I originally met my wife, I was ready to quit internet dating. I was literally about to delete my account, but she had sent me a smile. Before hitting the delete button, I told myself it'd be the last profile I read and then I'll shut it off. She had this one line – ‘I’m on a lifelong quest for the perfect clicky pen.’ It made me laugh and I thought, how could I not meet this person? So years later when I saw a guy making pens, I realized that maybe I could give the perfect clicky pen a shot.”
Tourangeau had been exposed to hobbies and workshops from a young age, having a mother who quilts and a father, Ray Tourangeau, who has a long list of Ward Foundation World Championships in wood carving under his belt. “I had this moment in the shop after I had made a few kit pens, where I realized I was the same age as my dad when he had won his first championship. It lit a bit of a fire in me to start thinking of what sort of things I could do with pens.”
Around that time, with kit pen making in full swing, Tourangeau attended the virtual Midwest Turners Pen Gathering where he saw a demonstration of kitless penmaking. “Reading about kitless pens online was intimidating, but the instructor made it look really accessible. So I bought a few blanks and some tools to give it a try. Just after the MPG I also discovered the As The Pen Turns podcast, and not only gained a lot of knowledge and insight but also realized there was a thriving community of makers and pen lovers on Instagram.” While Tourangeau hadn’t considered selling his work, it seemed like the next logical step. “I was already hooked, amassing materials and tools, so I wanted to offset those costs. It took me awhile to work up the confidence to do it. The details had to be right. I was self-conscious about selling – I look at what you can buy in the same price range that most maker pens fall into, like a Leonardo Momento Zero, and feel like I need to make something as good as that. It needs to compete with what else is in that price range.”
To stay at that level, he is always trying to improve the efficiency of his process and the technical quality of his pens. The schematics on the Hogtown website show an architect’s hand at work. “I put a lot of time into designing the shapes. The cigar shapes went through a lot of iterations to get just the right taper. It takes time to make them so that they are consistent every time, because I need it to look exactly like it’s supposed to. My pen shapes aren’t as distinctive as those of some makers, but I think some of them do stand out.” Polish is another area where Tourangeau has spent a lot of time refining his technique, and it’s paid off in praise from customers and other makers. “I check the polish with a bright light – if it’s done right, it reflects everything like a mirror.”
The Hogtown website says the pens are “Made with love (and a bit of swearing).” “The swearing happens when you thread a section for Jowo, and then look at your commission list and it’s supposed to be a Bock. Or when something explodes while turning, or you get to the end of a polish and realize you burned an edge and have to redo part of the pen. It’s all a part of the fun."
In contrast to the swear-worthy moments, trying new materials is a source of constant inspiration. “I call it shaking hands with the blank – I will cut the tenon and then polish it before threading, and it gives me the first peek at what to expect from the finished product. I’m always chasing that high of being blown away by the material.” Is there a temptation to cast pen materials? “Oh, yes – but I’m so consumed with the pen making, I don’t want it to take me away from the pens or from time with my family. I don’t have that much energy!” When there is enough blank left after making a pen, he will turn a little piece and install a magnet in it so it can be popped onto the customer’s refrigerator. With his kids now nearly 5 and 7, the papers are starting to come home from school. “I tried to come up with something that would hold at least 10 letter sheets on the fridge, because so many magnets can barely hold a single sheet.”
While he does not have a large pen collection – “I’ve got a lot of failed experiments that I use, and I’m always test driving my own” – he takes part in the annual ATPT Secret Santa and has a Mad Science Beta that he enjoys using. “It’s such a distinctive shape and style that you can’t get anywhere else – Jacob’s work really stands out as his own.”
Tourangeau has called Toronto home since 2005. His pen models are named after streets or neighborhoods with personal significance, and the name of his company is rooted in the city’s history. “Hogtown is a nickname that city owes – at least in part - to the stockyards of pork processing plants that existed downtown. The last one was only closed in 2014, which is pretty wild for a major metropolitan city. You’d see trucks stuck in downtown traffic with all of these snouts poking out the back, headed for the abattoir.”
The good reception his pens received meant that his commission queue is always full. While this is a nice problem to have, it does mean he doesn’t always have the time to explore new things. “I’d love to take the time to go back to my roots a bit, and just go into the shop with experimentation in mind – which is hard to do when you’re staring down an order list. I’ve extended my lead time to allow for more of that, but doing something new is always a little scary when you are confident in what you’re already doing.” It also means he has not been able to do shows, although he’d like to. “I’m always a bit worried about the prospect of shows – I’d have to essentially put everything on hold in order to make enough to fill a table, and I’m always afraid that at the end of the process I won’t want to make pens anymore!” Turning off commissions completely to make time is not very appealing, because he enjoys the personal side of the process “As penmakers we couldn’t really do what we do without an amazing community of customers and other makers to support us. One of my favorite parts of the process is seeing someone’s face light up when they see their pen for the first time, or getting some hilarious and enthusiastic DMs when I send them the first video of the polished pen. Giving them something they can love that much, for potentially the rest of their life, is really motivating.”
As things stand, that hour or two and the end of a day making pens is a source of calm. “When I do other kinds of woodworking, I finish the evening thinking, ‘What did I even get done today?’ The finished product is six weeks down the road, and your progress feels invisible. The great thing about penmaking is that I can go into the shop with an idea in my head, and leave with it in my hand. That’s really inspiring.”
Terry Tourangeau’s work can be seen on his Instagram @hogtownpens, and his website Hogtown Pens.
