Dear reader

I’m not necessarily interested in the latest technologies, nor in fancy renderings.
Let me tell you what I’m curious about:

Lately, I ordered a piece of urushi lacquerware from a small workshop in Japan. This simple wooden rice bowl arrived with a two-page letter, in which the shop owner described the effort that went into making the bowl and what made it special. He wrote about the exceptional craftsmanship and the people behind this wonderful object. I felt connected to the history of the bowl and saw its beauty in a different light.

What if most things were produced with such dedication and care? How would that world look? We might own far fewer things which leads to less mining of materials, fewer container ships, and smaller piles on landfills. We would take care of our objects, repair them, and pass them on to others as soon as we no longer needed them. Perhaps there would be more second-hand stores than stores selling new items.

I am working toward this vision in my design practice. This does not mean I’m against automated processes. Sometimes they are wonderful. I’m also not against inexpensive products, but I am against cheap products when their low costs result from exploiting nature and people.

That’s why I want to craft products made with absolute care, considering every step: from where materials are sourced to how they are transformed into a product; how they are combined; how an object can be repaired; and how it can be disassembled at the end of its life.

I want to create objects that bring joy to the people who use them. This joy might come from how an object feels when you hold it in your hands, how it feels as you let your fingers run along its edges, how it visually communicates with its surroundings, how it sounds when it collides with other objects, or from a beautiful form or an ingenious engineering solution. It might also come from the gestures it enables. I want to delve into every detail and aspect.

Warm regards,

Nathanael