hanimorsi.com

Author: Hani Morsi

  • Embodiment, flow and the value of tool aesthetics in an increasingly disposable society

    The very concept of praising the aesthetics of a tool might seem inherently contradictory. After all, when we truly engage with a tool, it ceases to be an object in and of itself. It becomes an extension of our will, a seamless conduit between our intention and the material being shaped. Proficiency in tool use transcends mere observation; it’s about achieving a state of flow where the tool simply disappears, its presence felt only in the effortless execution of the task.

    Focus shifts entirely to the interaction between the tool and the material. Are we shaping the wood, or is the wood revealing its true form through our guided touch? This intimate connection overshadows any concern for the tool’s outward appearance. A hammer, for instance, is primarily judged by its weight, balance, and the precision with which it drives a nail. While a pretty hammer might initially catch the eye, its true worth lies in its functionality.

    When not in use, tools are typically relegated to utilitarian storage – neatly organized by function, often hidden from view. This practical approach reflects their primary purpose: to serve, not to be admired. Collections, of course, are a notable exception, showcasing tools as artifacts, objects of historical and cultural significance.

    Yet, tools undeniably possess aesthetic qualities, albeit of a unique kind. There’s the stark beauty of modern, minimalist designs, prioritizing efficiency and sleekness. But perhaps more profound is the aesthetic of use – the patina of wear patterns, the scratches and dings that tell a story. These marks are not blemishes; they are badges of honor, evidence of a life lived, of countless hours of dedicated work.

    Each scratch narrates a specific encounter, a moment of friction, a testament to the tool’s active participation in the world. These unconscious markings, accumulated over time, imbue the tool with a unique character, a tangible history that resonates with us deeply. In our disposable culture, where novelty often trumps longevity, these traces of genuine use become increasingly rare, and therefore, increasingly precious. They remind us of a time when things were made to last, when craftsmanship was valued, and when the marks of use were not seen as imperfections, but as evidence of a life well-lived.

  • On tech, tools and toys

    Humans are exceptional tool-makers. Our skillls, however, evolved from being necessity-driven to novelty-seeking. Capitalism has flooded us with a marketplace of hard to resist gadgets, toys and contraptions.

    The main problem with this plethora of ready-to-use tools and conveniences that saturate contemporary times is twofold: exacerbating the problem of our ever-shortening attention spans (again: we’re attracted to novelty) and 2) we shift the onus of understanding the basics of these tools (and therefore fail to utilize them to their fullest potential) from our supreme tool – the mind – to the tools themselves (search engines, asking Ai tools like Chat GPT, etc).

    A truism, of our times is that every solution breeds new problems. We keep layering solutions upon problems upon solutions upon problems in a never-ending cycle of change and “upgrade” for the sake of upgrade. This is not only driven by the novelty-seeking drive of contemporary human psychology, but by planned obsolescence being a core feature of contemporary capitalism.

    The introduction of technology into a system – any system – for its own sake is usually fad driven and rarely stands the tests of time and human fallibility.

    A great litmus test for using a new technology is – does it improve both solution and understanding of the original problem that I had?

    If a tool solves a problem but does not facilitate a better understanding of it, then we are dependent on this particular tool. When/if it is removed from my system – so is my solution. This makes for fragile systems. If you go camping depending on a blowtorch to make fire to cook your food, and the blowtorch runs out of fuel and you do not understand how to build a campfire without it, you’re pretty screwed. If you, however, have learned how to use a flint rod and the necessary accoutrements required for starting a fire using a flint strike, then you don’t need to carry a blowtorch and the required fuel. You have a robust system built on a reusable tool and a solid understanding of a critical survival skill.

    We all benefit greatly from technologies in our lives. But even more powerful than tools, is a framework that drives forward our understanding and makes us more robust human beings regardless of the technology we have access to at any given moment in time.