I like knives. They bridge the gap between form and function, and can run the gamut from too-beautiful-to-touch to so-ugly-it-works. I’m not rich and I don’t consider myself a connoisseur, but maybe I am a bit of a snob: I believe there is such a thing as getting what you pay for when it comes to knives. For instance, I don’t buy flea market, potmetal shanks anymore. But then I also can’t see my way to buying $1000 boutique art pieces.
Like Goldilocks, there’s a “just right” to me. I could point to at least a dozen that I’ve carried with me for the odd, daily task: opening mail, cleaning fingernails, trimming loose threads, cutting packages. Within that dozen, maybe half I’d put forward as works of refined art: scales of interesting materials and colors, hardware of strange shapes and metals. Sure, all I need them to do is be sharp and not break, but why not look good and be my own while it does it?
And that’s where I try to take design. I could just type a bit of text, call it a logo, and be done, but why? I could make it eye-catching and memorable with some effort, and take it to an enduring, endearing level. You could endlessly print mere words, but to emblazon with a marque is something special.
Of course, if all you need is a boxcutter, use a boxcutter. I have one of those, too.