The Teal of Kamoike and the Blue of Daisen｜Kazunori Takashio, Dean of the Graduate School of Media and Governance

"On our campus, we have a pond called 'Kamoike'..."

I found myself blurting that out right in front of Mr. Ishimaru. In the fountain pen community, there is a class of artisans known as ink blenders—literally, master mixologists of ink. Among them, Osamu Ishimaru of The Sailor Pen Co., Ltd. is a legendary blender, cherished by everyone for both his exceptional skill and his captivating warmth. That was how I opened our conversation on a still-sweltering day in mid-September at Maruzen’s Marunouchi Main Store during their "Ink Studio" event.

"Ink Studio" is a popular event where master blenders from The Sailor Pen Co., Ltd. listen to each customer's request, mixing various inks on the spot to craft an original fountain pen ink tailored to their exact liking. About a month earlier, when I dropped by the store to purchase one of their limited-edition inks, a staff member invited me: "Mr. Ishimaru is coming next time!" Needless to say, I secured an available slot on the spot.

After agonizing over "what color to ask for" for days, a single image came to mind: the ducks floating on Kamoike. Specifically, the glossy green visible around the head and neck of a male mallard. That was it—that was the color I wanted. I wanted a color that could even convey the slightly murky blue-green tone of the pond's water. Not just the color of "a duck," but the color of "the ducks of Kamoike"—the color of our campus. Written in kanji, it wouldn't be a simple dark "green" (緑), but rather "teal" (碧). To convey this vision as clearly as possible, I arrived on the day fully prepared with my own photos of Kamoike across the four seasons, images of mallard green heads that matched my ideal, and notes articulating the concept in words as best I could.

He was holding his head in his hands—Mr. Ishimaru was literally clutching his head!

I had a vision. Inks can exhibit a property known as "flash" or "sheen". When writing with a fountain pen or glass pen, light striking a spot where ink pools heavily reveals a metallic luster distinct from the base ink color. That is flash—not added glitter, but a phenomenon where the ink's blended ingredients themselves shimmer in the light. Inks with pronounced flash are often called sheen inks. The green head of a mallard is precisely a structural color created by light reflection, shifting to purple or flashing pink depending on the viewing angle. My naive idea was to infuse these shades into a dark green base...

And small wonder—this was ink blending, after all. It was never going to be simple. Simply mixing colors would turn it into a muddy mess. "Green is notoriously tricky..." Mr. Ishimaru murmured, yet he tirelessly continued through trial and error. Eventually, we settled on taking a deep green available that day as a base and incrementally adding hints of pink. Having him prepare several samples, I tested the impression by writing on paper with a dip pen, offering increasingly fine-tuned requests along the way.

It was done!!

While the flash was subtle, we achieved the exact "teal" I had envisioned. It wasn't just a mallard head green. It was a one-of-a-kind color infused with my memory of the "muted blue-green of Kamoike" and the "surrounding foliage". Finally, like a bartender crafting a cocktail, he mixed a full bottle's worth in a shaker and poured it into a custom bottle. Right before my eyes stood a bottle of ink—currently the only one in the world—that belonged solely to me.

"What shall we name it?"
"How about... Kamoike Green?"
"Very well, this is your 'Kamoike Green.' Please enjoy."  

Even his signature delivery gave me chills of delight. I was happy—truly thrilled. Caught up in the excitement, I even asked for a photo together. Chatting with Mr. Ishimaru was immensely enjoyable, and time flew by in a flash. It’s easy to see why he has such a devoted fan base. At the same time, it was a moment that reminded me how challenging it is to articulate mental images into words during a creative process.

To tell the truth, I had another candidate color in mind that I had wanted blended: the deep "blue" (蒼) of Mount Daisen—also known as Hoki Fuji—when viewed from afar.

As I have mentioned a few times in this Okashira Diary, I have been visiting the western region of Tottori Prefecture multiple times a year since 2021. It all started with the Future Design Camp for high school and technical college students. The Future Design Camp in Tottori is a residential workshop formatted in a new style, stepping beyond the campus with local government support. Beginning in Daisen Town and Nambu Town in 2022, we built up a track record in Nichinan Town (2023) and Yonago City (2025) (with the 2024 session held in Tottori City in the east). As detailed in last summer's Okashira Diary ("4th Year Challenge: Future Design Camp in Tottori"), many of you may recall this initiative. Each year, based on meticulous field research, we launch new research projects and gear up for the main camp. Furthermore, after the camp, we aim for deeper social implementation and community contribution, forging multi-year joint projects with local municipalities. Naturally, my stays in the region have increased. In fact, I am writing this very draft at Haneda Airport before boarding my flight to Yonago.

This year's "Future Design Camp in Tottori" took place over three days and two nights, based in Kaike Onsen, Yonago City. The theme was "Connecting Human Change, Everyday Life, and Emergency: Resilient Technology and the Future of Regions". For details, please see the Campus News report ("SFC Future Design Camp 2026 in Tottori"*) or various media articles and videos. During this stay as well, Mount Daisen was beautifully visible from my hotel room window.  

Looking up at Daisen from its foothills in past years, the mountain felt like a fresh, bright "emerald green" (翠). But viewed from Kaike, Daisen was a majestic, deep "blue" (蒼). Its expressions shifted day by day. Throughout my weeklong stay, I never grew tired of gazing out the window. The next time I see Mr. Ishimaru, I think I will ask for that "blue".

On October 31 and November 1, Nichinan Town in western Tottori will host "Iro Fes" (Color Festival), part of their university exchange hub initiative. Nichinan is filled with topics related to "color"—it is the birthplace of the founder of Sakura Color Products, and the town passionately celebrates its rich seasonal colors, from the golden glow of a giant ginkgo tree in autumn to starry night skies. Our laboratory will also host a color-themed workshop. But beyond that, I hope to enjoy informal chats about ink like this with the participants.

Come to think of it, when Mr. Ishimaru handed me the bottle, his fingers were stained bright blue with ink.

P.S.

The images might not fully capture the shade (or maybe that's just impossible in a photo!). Though in limited quantities and strictly for campus faculty and staff, if you bring an empty cartridge, a small vial, or a fountain pen with a converter, I would be glad to share some "Kamoike Green". Please feel free to call out to me on campus!