Academic literature on the topic 'Quill pen ink publishing'

In a movie I saw recently, a young Will Shakespeare was seen to repeatedly dip the nib of a quill into a reservoir of ink and scrawl on pieces of paper until, finally, what we know as "Romeo and Juliet" was penned. As pointed out by Richard Piner, Jin Zhu, Feng Xu, Seunghun Hong, and Chad Mirkin, this technology is much older than Shakespeare, dating back about 4000 years. But even technology this old can change.As you are well aware, making devices on a smaller and smaller scale (nanofabrication) is certain to change our future way of life, Nanofabrication frequently relies on lithographic methods where a pattern is superimposed on a resistive film and the film is chemically etched to create a structure that conforms to the pattern.

Dip Pen Nanolithography (DPN) is a scanning probe lithography technique where an atomic force microscope tip is used to transfer molecules to a surface via a solvent meniscus. This technique allows surface patterning on scales of under 100 nanometres. DPN is the nanotechnology analog of the dip pen (also called the quill pen), where the tip of an atomic force microscope cantilever acts as a “pen,” which is coated with a chemical compound or mixture acting as an “ink,” and put in contact with a substrate, the “paper.”DPN enables direct deposition of nanoscale materials onto a substrate in a flexible manner. The vehicle for deposition can include pyramidal scanning probe microscope tips, hollow tips, and even tips on thermally actuated cantilevers. Recent advances have demonstrated massively parallel patterning using two-dimensional arrays of 55,000 tips, depicted below. Applications of this technology currently range through chemistry, materials science, and the life sciences, and include such work as ultra high density biological nanoarrays, additive photomask repair, and brand protection for pharmaceuticals.

PUBLISHERS have over time played enormous roles in the dissemination of written language and the communication of ideas through and between cultures. Too often they are dismissed as the rubber stamp on the title page or that part of the citations required in a bibliography. They are the least known yet most familiar names on a title page and for too many of us they are just an administrative necessity. The common image of the publisher is that of the business face and the practical production component of the publishing process. Compared to the author and the title of the book their names convey only broad categorical information to the readers. On joining the Pacific Conservation Biology, over ten years ago, I found that this stereotype was not true for Ivor Beatty. While he was all the things mentioned above he also entered into the publishing process with his red ink. His corrections to my manuscript were my first meeting with the man behind the name — he was the Beatty in Surrey Beatty & Sons. His corrections were a point of academic contention that I enjoyed with him; they were lesson well learnt. Many years before my first experience with Ivor’s red ink, on a lower rung of my educational ladder, I had chatted with Joe Forshaw about the disappearance of Australian publishers from the publishing of Australian biota. We could both recite a long list of names of well-known publishers who no longer published in Australia. The small market and prohibitive economic costs had pushed publishing off-shore. Australian science and its communication to Australians and the world were consequently suffering. The story is too familiar to repeat here and it occurs in many areas beyond publishing. However, Ivor Beatty continued publishing biological science in Australia. He provided the forum to get the message across the same forum that provides the authors a place to promote their ideas. Many of us have much to thank him for. It has been said that “It would be impossible to imagine any zoologist, botanist, ecologist or conservation biologist trained in Australia over the last 20 years who has not had their career influenced by contributions from Beatty’s publications” (Saunders et al. 2012). I concur: I cannot believe that any student or conservation biologist would not be citing from the extensive literature than has emanated from his publishing house. A search of any good university library would find many entries from Surrey Beatty & Sons under conservation headings and many with no comparable papers or chapters published elsewhere. As a student I benefited from this literature and as a professional academic my research continues to draw on publications that have moved through Ivor’s hands. While the authors and editors of the papers and chapters are ultimately responsible for the original ideas that are rarely or not published elsewhere, they would not have seen the light of day without Ivor’s hand. At the time of his passing I point to the litany of his publications from his lifetime of dedication to conservation biology and I celebrate his achievements and his life and I recall the publisher that corrected my manuscript with his red pen.

AbstractA novel direct cell printing technique has been developed to control and manipulate the position of cells on solid surfaces. The method utilizes microfabricated polymeric “quill-pen” cantilevers to transfer living cells onto a wide variety of surfaces. In contrast with existing cell deposition methods, such as ink jet or laser ablation methods, the quill-pen approach imparts minimal thermal and shear stress to cells, preserving cell viability and biological functionality. Deposition of both bacterial and mammalian cells into defined patterns has been demonstrated using this method. The size of printed, cell-containing droplets could be controlled by varying the geometry of the quill-pen stylus and by varying printing conditions such as contact time, relative humidity, and surface hydrophobicity. Initial experiments using 10 μm diameter polymer beads demonstrated that the number of beads per droplet could be controlled by varying spot size and particle concentration in the printing solution. Spots could be printed ranging from 20 μm and 100 μm in diameter with approximate volumes ranging from 1-250 pL. We demonstrated deposition of both cells and beads onto a variety of solid surfaces including agarose gel, polystyrene, polyethylene, and glass. Printed cells have also been immobilized on glass and polymer surfaces using biocompatible hydrogel materials (both alginic acid and hyaluronic acid-based matrices) as well as poly-L-lysine. Similar to polymer beads, the number of cells in printed droplets was shown to be dependent upon the size of the droplet, and could be varied by adjusting the concentration of cells present in the printing fluid. As few as one cell per spot could be achieved by adjusting these parameters. The viability and proliferation of printed cells has been evaluated using live optical imaging to observe cell growth and division. Both bacterial cells (Escherichia coli) and mammalian cells were able to divide and proliferate for at least 96 hr post-printing (experiments were discontinued after 96 hr). Live/dead staining was also used to confirm the viability of printed cells. Rat mammary adenocarcinoma MTLn3 cells and mouse embryonic stem cells were also shown to survive the printing process for at least 24 - 96 hr post-printing. These results demonstrate the feasibility of the printing method and its compatibility with a wide range of cell types. It is especially noteworthy that embryonic stem cells could survive the printing process (and proliferate on the printing substrate). This novel printing method has applications for tissue engineering, cell-to-cell signaling studies, and for directly interfacing cells with nanodevices and biosensors.

This chapter examines a particular instance of canonical late-twentieth-century poetry that shows close collaboration with the visual arts. It takes as a case study the work of Ted Hughes, who is often considered central to the development of the English poetic canon, in his collaboration with the American artist and publisher Leonard Baskin in producing the 1973 book, Cave Birds. The trade volume initially contained over ten of Baskin’s pen-and-ink images (which had inspired Hughes to pen his poems). Why, then, are Baskin’s artworks no longer published alongside Hughes’s poems? This chapter puts drawing and text back into dialogue, offering a sustained intra-artistic reading of an image-poem pair as it resonates with the vision of Michelangelo, Michael Ayrton, Giacometti, Sylvia Plath, and Seamus Heaney. Artwork and literary text interact before our viewing-reading eyes, performing an eloquent expression of the complexity of aesthetic co-constitution, across media and history.