>5 Hand-ness (Objects 41-50)

Fifty objects later, this blog has taken a life of its own. It has veered toward celebrating the importance of hand-ness. Objects 41-50 celebrate handcrafting; they celebrate bamboo; and they celebrate tactility. Handcrafting, to me, is an uneven equation, leaning more toward hand than toward crafting. The hand is the most human -probably the most soulful- of organs. Everything we do is hand-dependent to a degree, usually to a high degree. Hands mediate between the world and our intentions; they are the port of entry and the exit channel to us; they define the continuous exchange we have with our environment at all times. Hands give sense to expression. Craft emerges from hands and it remains a testimony to their importance, as any of these last ten objects can attest. Every one of them is highly tactile as well and, together, they emerge as a group of things that share a certain character of anonymity in their extraordinary design. Design is hand-ness. Hand-ness is the hand factor that all things have, their ability to reflect on how they were made and by whom; their capacity to identify the human soul and the human needs. Hand-ness is a superb design quality, one of the most essential. After this last batch, I will be actively looking for it in any and every object I will examine. Bamboo is a high hand-ness material, as the marvelous bamboo objects shown in this last group sufficiently prove.

50. Bwalavwih

The shape of these combs resembles the human hand in an atavistic way. Their craftsmanship is exquisite: a series of 12 polished wooden points made from the interior of the tree fern (mau vwilih), arranged hierarchically and symmetrically by length, in a triangular disposition. In this particular pair, the wooden points are held together by woven hemp cord (bwele rava), although in other similar objects it is burao (coconut fiber) what is used for binding purposes. These combs are from Pentecóte Island in the New Hebrides –an archipelago in the South Pacific known today as Vanuatu- and are an extinct object of sorts, since it is reported that this particular style of comb making died in the early 1900s. The few remaining combs still in use today are found in the central areas of the island, where they are known as bwalavwih. Bwalavwihs are designed to be worn as hair ornaments by women in certain social ceremonies. They are about 18 cm. (7 in.) in height from top to bottom, and 11.5 cm. (4.5 in.) in width at the bottom. It is particularly remarkable that the ratio between those two dimensions (1.56) is very close to the number Phi (1.61) -the Golden Ratio; is that mere coincidence? is it possible that the craftsmen from the New Hebrides designed these everyday objects in the same harmonious proportion that Euclid of Alexandria defined in 300 B.C. and the Italians called the Divine Proportion in the 16th century?

49. Djerrk

Aboriginals have lived in Australia’s Northern Territory for 60,000 years. One of their everyday objects is an extraordinarily simple string bag made from natural handspun bush string. These societies use string bags in their everyday hunting, fishing and food gathering activities. String bags are specially designed for food that is wet or bloody, as it allows liquids to drain away by gravity. Its lightness is also adequate for ventilating the smells of raw meat or fish. Finally, the form of these bags is able to adapt to any content, and the structural capabilities of natural fiber insure the possibility of carrying heavy loads. The bag in the picture is about 56 cm. (22 in.) long, and it is made using centuries old hand weaving techniques. In aboriginal societies, hand weaving is produced by men and women for various purposes, including tight and open weave conical bags, netted string bags, fishnets, etc. Stylistic similarities and differences arise through family groups working together, availability of certain materials and dyes, influence of new material and dye sources, and the demands of the community. The word for bag varies slightly in most of the local languages: in Burarra, it is jerrk; in Ndjennana and Eastern Kunwinjku, it is djerrk; in Rembarrnga and Kune, it is djerrh, etc. The importance of bags –all types of bags- in modern Western societies is clearly explained by the primordial role bags have played in many primitive societies for thousands of years.

48. Straw raincoat

I found this photograph in the back cover of a book about world crafts. A short caption explained that it is a raincoat used by shepherds in the mountains of Galicia (Spain). I’d be curious to know whether this exceptional garment is still in use today -the book is a few decades old- or perhaps it belongs to a tradition of straw crafting no longer available. What drew me to this object was its austerity. I understand its form as a manifestation of a rigorous order not difficult to infer even from a photograph. There is a sense of precision in its regularity that relates more to the world of abstraction present in design and art than to the pragmatism of self-taught, remote-mountain, handcrafting. I would appreciate the opportunity to speak with the maker of this object. I would ask him how this raincoat performs in the harsh and ever-rainy climate of Southern Galicia. I would want to know how long it takes for this garment to dry after a heavy storm, and how it repels water to keep the body dry. I would be curious to know if his original intention was to create a disposable or a permanent garment and what type of fibers did he use to make it. I would ask whether the overlapping layers that define this cape-like raincoat are the result of trial and error or the product of conscious design. This is one object capable of redefining design.

47. Rattan dress

The small-diameter, easily malleable, rattan used in the manufacturing of furniture, could probably be easily adapted to the contours of the human body. But Martha Beckman, one of my former Industrial Design students at RISD, chose a different path to construct her rattan dress: she decided to use a larger-diameter cane. Manau rattan, the material she used, is commercially available in the United States in diameters up to 2 inches (5 cm.). Unlike most bamboo species with hollow nodes, rattan has a solid cane. This circumstance favored a primitive, yet effective, process of deconstructing the rattan cane into a surface that could be molded to the contours of the body: smashing the cane with a hammer to break it down and separate the fibers. The hammer allowed the designer to easily fine tune the amount of force applied to disaggregate the fibers, as opposed to using mechanical machines such as a hydraulic press, that would afford a more homogeneous, yet less expressive, crushing process. By forcing the fibers to separate in order to re-arrange them following new patterns, she was able to generate a natural surface with different degrees of density, different thicknesses and curvatures. These three variables were enough to provide her with the design tools she needed for dressmaking. There is certain primitive sophistication in the result, even if it is just a prototype that speaks to the provocative notion of using an abundant grass as an innovative material to create new clothing concepts.

46. Bamboo table

An object that explains itself and the natural properties of the material it is made of. Bamboo canes do not have a constant section. They naturally taper from bottom to top. Bamboo canes can also be pre-formed, a common practice in societies where bamboo is an essential part of their culture: a form of certain geometry is attached to growing culms so that their section, when they become mature canes, can be shaped at will. This bamboo table is built with bamboo canes of a square, rather than circular, section. The process of sanding them into regular squares all the way through has uneven consequences because of the tapering: it keeps the lower part of the cane solid, but eats away part of the top part, leaving only a few fibers in the edges, a bamboo geometric skeleton. That is why the table is solid in one side and slowly loses its materiality toward the opposite side. No doubt this object is a design pirouette of sorts: it is well crafted but unfunctional. Its main virtue is that it tells the story of how it was made rather elegantly and subtly. It also explains several properties of the material it is made of very effectively. Can the function of an object be telling a story? Is that enough to legitimize it? Is this table about bamboo education or about craftsmanship? Is it a designed object –in terms of authorship- or is it a highly developed anonymous object?

45. Warmerdam's pole

Cornelius Warmerdam was an athlete from California who dominated the pole vault event in the 1940s. He was the first man to clear 15 feet (4,57 m.) in 1940. Two years later, he raised the new world record to 15 ft. and 7,75 in. (4,76 m.). This record would remain unchallenged for 15 years, and was achieved with a rattan pole. Before engineered plastics or fiberglass technology were fully available for objects such as pole vaults, simple rattan canes, carefully grown and chosen by rattan experts, were used in the top competition events. I know this because Victor Maison, the founder of Bamboo & Rattan Works Inc., used to be one of those experts, and supplied carefully chosen rattan poles to athletes all around the world. The rattan poles which made it to the high competition events were minimally transformed by adding a selective reinforcement of tape or cloth. One might contend that a rattan pole turned pole vault is not a very interesting object. I would disagree. There is a remarkable simplicity in the notion of taking a natural fiber as is and using it in such a specialized and precise manner. It seems far-fetched to us to think in those terms, used as we are in our time to artifacts. The poles used in today’s vaulting contests are high-tech carbon fiber marvels, like the one Bubka used to set his still unchallenged 1994 world record in 6,14 m. (20.14 ft.).

44. Margherita chair

A modern version of rattan furniture, from the early 1950s: Franco Albini’s Margherita chair (and ottoman), reconciled rattan with post-war Italian Rationalism. A dual condition of incipient industrialization and the existence of readily available traditional craftsmen coexisted in Italy at the time. Many argue that this circumstance set the basis for the development of the Italian design movement that would peak internationally in the last third of the 20th century. It is significant to consider that, when Albini was thinking rattan, many of his contemporaries, in Europe and the United States, were achieving similar formal results though the use of very different -and at the time innovative- materials such as plastics, reinforced plastics (fiberglass) or molded plywood. One of the relevant aspects of Margherita is how it uses readily available traditional craft and puts it at the service of larger theoretical principles. I imagine that a rattan craftsman from Asia or South America would have created a very different chair than Albini’s. This hypothetical chair would have a very different geometry, perhaps, and its form would be the direct result of the abilities of the craftsman and his understanding of the function the object was meant to fulfill. Margherita did not emanate from craft alone, but from a theoretical pursuit that was then materialized via a traditional material assembled by hand. The relevant question concerning this object, beyond historical or theoretical considerations, might be what is (was) the cultural value of using rattan in our society.

43. The 3628S

These days, the high-design sofas one finds in web catalogs have pretentious names such as chaise, or loveseat. Back in the early 20th century, a sofa’s name was a cryptic number, as if were an industrial part from a plumbing catalog rather than a domestic object. Naming things with numbers is an act of courage, a deliberate attempt to explain that the substance is in the object, not in the name. I found the picture of 3628S in a dusty album at Bamboo & Rattan Works Inc., after I was explained that the bamboo supplier that I know once had a flourishing furniture business that manufactured and distributed rattan furniture. There was not any more information about 3628S than a few pictures and the pictures of a few other rattan furniture pieces that were part of the company furniture catalog in the early 20th century. Interpreting an object from a faded black and white photograph is rather risky, perhaps irresponsible. I do not know the dimensions of the piece, or any of its physical or formal characteristics other than what I can infer from the image. I do not know how it was really made. But I am willing to be sanguine about it and trust my intuition: I find the 3628S’s elegance attractive; I like the simplicity of its forms and the way they are a result of the choice of materials and methods used in producing it. I find the 3628S very contemporary.

42. Rattan airplane seats

In 1927, Iberia Airlines of Spain operated two Rohrbach Roland airplanes between Madrid and Barcelona, and a third one flying from Madrid to Northern Africa. I recently found an image of the interior of one of those planes and realized that the seats were made out of rattan. The form of the seats is strangely sophisticated, and so is the way in which rattan is used in both structural and supporting elements. There was a sense of good proportion and good design in them that was ahead of its time. The use of rattan of different diameters in the configuration of the seats confirms the preponderance that bamboo and rattan had in the early 20th century, when plastic and engineered composites were not (widely) available. Light, flexible, easy to bend and capable of providing a pleasant interface to the user, rattan was the material of choice for high-performance furniture such as airplane seats. The way in which the back of the seats incorporate a (Torres Muñoz bicarbonate) commercial text message reinforces the atmosphere of primitive simplicity that defined the great German plane both inside and out. The Roland was propelled by 3 BMW engines, the most advanced at the time: it is highly indicative that the airplane engineers decided to choose rattan for the interior design of such advanced machine, forecasting the realization, decades later, that bamboo and rattan have unlimited potential in design, not because of their look, but because of their performance qualities.

41. The Number 21

German inventor Gustav Whitehead (his real name was Weißkopf) was obsessed with flying. He designed and built several sailplanes throughout his life, and reportedly flew his engine-powered Number 21 glider in August 14, 1901, before the Wright brothers’ first flight. This fact is still in dispute, since no photographs were taken of that first flight. Whitehead’s glider Number 21 was ultra-light, reportedly built after the model of a bird or a bat. The body was 16 ft. (4.9 m.) long, 2,5 ft. (0.75 m.) at its greatest width, 3 ft. (0.90 m.) deep and had a 36 ft. (11 m.) wingspan. It had bamboo ribs and was braced with steel wires and covered with tightly stretched canvas. Four wheels supported the Number 21 while on the ground. It was powered by two engines: a ground engine, connected to the front wheels, and another one powering the glider’s two propellers. During flight, roll was controlled by the pilot shifting his weight; pitch was controlled by a tail wing; and yaw was controlled by differing the thrust between the two propellers. I recently learned about Whitehead’s claim to fame in a visit to Bamboo & Rattan Works, the supplier that donated the bamboo Whitehead used for the Number 21. Rattan cane was a popular material at the beginning of the 20th century: light, abundant, easily bendable and extremely flexible, Whitehead saw in it the ideal material to withstand the structural demands of his Number 21.

>4 Perceiving (Objects 31-40)

Sometimes we refer to things calling them names such as thingamajig, doohickey or thingamabob because their actual names or functions escape us. It is a way of saying that there are too many things we interact with and that some of them are completely inconspicuous, not even worth triggering our memory or interest in them enough to remember what they do or what they are called. This fourth batch of objects (31 to 40) contains several thingamajigs, things that are not precisely memorable. It is difficult to find commonalities between, say, a standard surveillance camera (I walked into a store yesterday no bigger than a large living room that had nine surveillance cameras installed in the ceiling) and the Patsari stove, or the Fusoris astrolabe. In many ways, the three objects are about measuring –measuring the power we can exert on others, the minimum amount of resources needed to cook a meal, or the position of heavenly bodies- but they are also things that help us raise our awareness of the environments around us, be them global or local. So does the catadioptric camera or the Cameron aurameter, objects designed to show us that which we cannot see at first sight. One could say that this eclectic batch of objects is about perception or, rather, about measuring perception. This is a rather interesting notion to dwell on, since things are transmitters of emotions and calling something doohickey could be a way of measuring too.

40. Astrolabe

Developed in the Islamic world by the 9th century, the astrolabe was introduced to Europe from Spain three centuries later and became the predominant astronomical instrument until the 17th century. A multifunctional object mainly used to show the position of the sun and the stars in the sky at a given time, the astrolabe was also used to solve astronomy problems, to find time during day and night, as a way-finding device at sea, to track the sun's position, and to educate future astronomers. The main brass disc in the astrolabe is called mater; it is hollowed in the center to accommodate two plates that provide astronomical information about the sun, the position of the stars, etc. Over them, a perforated disc with a circle showing the sun's ecliptic, called rete, rotates to simulate the daily rotation of the stars in the sky. All four discs are held together by a pin. The back of the astrolabe has engraved mathematical scales for astronomical calculations, and a brass segment, the alidade, for measuring the altitude of celestial objects. For taking measurements of the Sun or the stars, the astrolabe is suspended by a cord connected to a ring. The top of the astrolabe, where the ring is connected, is called throne. The Fusoris astrolabe in the picture (15th century) is 16.3 cm (6.4 inches) in diameter, with an overall height of 20.6 cm (8.1 inches). The thickness of the mater plate is 0.8 cm (0.31 inches).

39. The Miller planisphere

A planisphere is a disc calculator that displays the position of the stars on any day of the year, at any time, for a given latitude. Disc calculators, also called thumb wheel index charts, are analog computational devices widely used in the past in a multitude of fields requiring repetitive charted calculations. Disc calculators manage knowledge by matching data from two discs: the bottom disc is stationary, and a top disc rotates around the center of the object. The Miller planisphere has a 10.5 in. (26.5 cm.) diameter. Its bottom disc has a representation of the celestial sphere that depicts stars, planets, nebulae, galaxies, star clusters, constellations, etc. Its perimeter displays an index of the 365 days of the year, grouped by month. The top disc has an elliptical window that defines the field of vision of the celestial sphere from the surface of the Earth, and another index, also in its perimeter, divided into 24 parts -the 24 hours of the day. By matching a specific hour of the day with the desired day of the year, the planisphere'’s elliptical window frames the portion of the celestial sphere in sight that day, and the position of the heavenly bodies one can see in the sky. The Miller Planisphere puts the stars within everyone'’s reach, reads the tag line in the back of the bottom disc. Such sophisticated knowledge for just about 12$ (9.25 Euros) -–the retail price of this object- is certainly a bargain.

38. Stormglass

A stormglass is a weather prediction device. Technically, it is a type of barometer -a device that responds to atmospheric pressure. Its main component is a sealed glass capsule that contains a specific chemical mixture: 2.5 g. of potassium nitrate; 2.5 g. of ammonium chloride; 33 mL. of distilled water; 40 mL. of ethanol and 10 g. of camphor. This solution changes its appearance depending on the weather to be: transparent if the weather will be bright and clear; if the weather will be cloudy or rainy, the liquid will also cloud by forming a series of crystals at the bottom of the capsule; humid or foggy weather will cause the formation of small dots in the liquid, etc. I am unaware of the scientific principle behind this highly visual weather forecasting object, although some attribute the changes in the appearance of the liquid to electromagnetic changes caused by weather and sun storms. First used by an admiral Fitzroy aboard the HMS Beagle during Darwin's five year historic voyage around the world in the early 19th century, the present of this archaic analog device is bright: it is still commercialized worldwide by a number of companies that sell nautical objects. Despite its glorious origins and shiny appearance, as an object, the stormglass is small -–about 14.5 cm (5.75 in.) high and 4.2 cm (1.65 in.) in diameter-– and devoid of any remarkable formal features. Anonymity may very well be what good measuring devices should aspire to.

37. Cameron aurameter

To dowse is to search for that which is otherwise hidden from view. This activity is most commonly known by most people in association with searching for underground water. An archaic art for many, dowsing has a connection to the supernatural in that it relies on the ability of an individual to use his/her sensitivity to know things he/she cannot know by logical thinking, learning, by experience or by the use of the five senses. Dowsing is done with the aid of simple hand held tools that allow the dowser to see clearer signals that can be detected without them. One of these tools is the Cameron aurameter, developed by a Verne Cameron in the California of the middle of the last century. Initially designed to detect human auras –and find holes in them- this tool's best use is not to find an exact spot where to drill for water but, rather, to define parameters of energy fields or underground veins of primary water. The simple configuration of this object is a spring-loaded L rod with a small handle and a pointer that in some models is adjustable. Certain suppliers explain in their sales pitch that the Cameron aurameter allows the dowser to experience many sensations and movements, transmitted from the tip, through the wire, to the hand and, eventually, to dowser's full body. It continues to say that this object also detects emanations from persons, objects and substances to the smallest push, swing or pull.

36. Surveillance camera

What goes in the design of a surveillance camera? An object with the implicit function of remaining as invisible as possible. An object designed to hide what it is, how it works and what are its ulterior motives. Something created not to be noticed, understood or liked. That is the antithesis of a good object, the polar opposite of what a noble thing should be; it is a grand celebration of anti-design. I imagine surveillance cameras are designed and manufactured under secretive procedures, in anonymous environments where isolation and security are the primordial factors. With that in mind it is no surprise they are such eyesores. They have plastic casings and black hardware inside; they can be adapted to a wall or be suspended from the ceiling; with minor modifications in their formal and technological DNA, they can be adapted to public spaces, dwellings, offices, commercial environments, etc. It is hard to believe that most societies embrace these objects and celebrate how they, in theory, keep them safe, although there are studies that prove otherwise. The socio-political implication of the mass implantation of surveillance cameras in society is a topic worth discussing –or taking action for- beyond this blog. Here, today, let me invite you to take a good look at the object depicted in the image and try to imagine how far it is from good design: an object conceived to make everyone’s life absolutely public is quite a senseless achievement. Think about it.

35. Catadioptric camera

In optics, the word catadioptric refers to a system that contains both lenses and mirrors: dioptrics is the science of refracting elements (lenses) and catoptrics is the science of refracting surfaces (mirrors). A single viewpoint catadioptric camera is a device that captures 360-degree images (such as the one at the bottom of the photo). Today, most standard digital cameras offer the possibility of sequential 360-degree shooting, that is, composing a 360-degree image out of overlapping still shots. But it is an under-developed option. The catadioptric camera would be far more advanced in providing a seamless continuous image around a central point. The majority of the catadioptric cameras I have come across are ad-hoc research prototypes under development in universities and institutes around the world. They are not much of an object, they are gadgety-looking: a curved mirror (hyperbolic or parabolic) placed in from of a standard camera. I have not found commercial catadioptric cameras, although I believe the technology that allows full 360-degree, uninterrupted perception, should have excellent prospects of application in a variety of markets. So far, catadioptric cameras only have (boring) applications in the field of computational vision: surveillance, teleconferencing, model acquisition for virtual reality, etc. But imagine using this technology to document the natural world, or to depict stage-based cultural events where one could see, in the same image, the performance and the reaction of the public to it. Turning new technologies into meaningful objects is what design does best.

34. Solar cooker

The practice of harnessing solar energy has notorious examples: in the year 212 B.C., the Greek mathematician Archimedes is said to have used mirrors to harness the rays of the sun against the Roman fleet attempting to invade the island of Syracuse. The very same principle generated the solar cooker, an exceptional, yet formless, object. A solar cooker is a principle rather than a thing: its form is how it works. There are infinite versions of the same object and it would be impossible to classify them in terms of their validity as objects, or designs. The only thing that matters is how they work, how inexpensive they may be, and how might them be distributed to the places where they are needed the most. The performance of this object is outstanding: today, a parabolic solar cooker can reach temperatures of 350˚ F (177˚ C) for frying, baking or boiling foods. Solar cookers have undergone many variations and improvements since the first prototypes were invented in the late 19th century. It was not until the 1950s when solar cookers re-emerged when the United Nations sponsored several studies aimed at the development of inexpensive, easy to use, cooking devices for Africa. In 1976, Barbara Kerr and Sherry Cole developed the (simple) cardboard, foil-laminated solar box cooker, an ingenious device that is inexpensive, easily transportable, durable and highly efficient in its performance in rural underdeveloped environments. The next step should be to incorporate solar cooking to first world kitchens.

33. Turbo stove

Turbo is a portable stove that operates on bioenergy. The pre-assembled object is a kit of seven laser-cut sheet metal parts that can be separated and bent by hand. The stove can be assembled in less than 20 minutes. Designed by Finnish designer Tapio Niemi, Turbo was presented in 1999 after ten years in development. A few years later, it was nominated for the prestigious Index 2005 awards, becoming one of the rare instances when a relevant object is recognized as high design. Yet, its appearance is that of a (Western) prototype more than an (African) evolved useful thing: a bold metal cylinder in search of a function. It looks a bit over designed, and that poses the question of how is this object appropriate for rural Africa: will it last under those harsh conditions, or will it be too flimsy and be quickly discarded? Local African stoves are chunky, crafty, monolithic, heavy and imperfect; Turbo is slick, shiny and Western looking; is that relevant at all? should a cooking stove for rural Africa be about performance only? I would like to see a cooking stove for developing countries that is about form, because that would mean that all the other grand socio-political and economic issues would have been swallowed by the cultural value of the object. After all, the cultural value of cooking is one of the very very few things that are the same in both developed and under-developed countries: cooking will always beat efficient cooking.

32. Patsari stove

The Patsari stove is austere and non-seductive at first sight. It looks under-designed. But beyond its looks, this stove for making tortillas and household cooking incorporates significant health, environmental and cultural improvements. It was designed as an alternative to cooking with wood on open fires, a practice well established in 95% of rural Mexico. Patsari reduces air pollution as well as the amount of firewood needed to cook and keep the food warm. It improves cleanliness reducing the time women spend in the kitchen. The portable version from the picture has a large, circular hot plate called comal, which is sealed to the stove to prevent smoke from leaking out. The built-in version of the stove is made either from bricks or from a mixture of pottery clay, sand and cement. This stove-mix is poured into a metal mould, which has separate moulds for the combustion and heat-transfer chambers inside it. The stove takes about two hours to build and the stove-mix sets within two hours. But the portable Patsari has the same feeling of reliability and can also be transported for outdoor cooking. Over 3,500 Patsari stoves have been bought by households and around 70 by tortilla-making enterprises, at a price of 850 pesos (60 €). GIRA, the non-profit organization responsible for the development of the stove, trains local builders to build Patsari stoves to last, and keeps strict quality controls. Local authorities provide discounts for those who cannot afford the full purchase price.

31. Yutanpo

Slipping a warm object under the covers is an ancient, universal way of warming up the bed. In the past, that object could be a brick or a flat stone previously warmed by the fire, a simple object capable of radiating low heat that the sheets and blankets helped keep inside the bed. In post-war Europe, bed warmers were rubber bags filled with hot water, very similar in size and shape to the yutanpo. Yutanpos developed in China and came to Japan in the 15th century. Three centuries later they had become a common household object. In those days, they were earthenware and had a dome shape. In the first decades of the 20th century, mass-produced yutanpos became oval in shape, made of zinc-plated iron with a rippled top and bottom to optimize heat radiation. In the 1950s, annual production in Japan was about a million units. Production slowly decreased as fossil fuel heating systems became widespread. But today, the demand is steadily increasing again, and the functional principle of the yutanpo has been reevaluated as an environmentally friendly, easy to use heating alternative. A yutanpo holds about 2 liters (0.5 gal.) of heated water, which will still be warm in the morning, ready to be reused for washing your face or the breakfast dishes. Because they are easy to ship, inexpensive and transportable, a novel use for yutanpos has emerged as temporary heating units in relief efforts where existing energy infrastructures have been severed.

>3 Hiding (Objects 21-30)

My good friend Hasan was telling me about the significance of the tea cozy in Pakistani culture (a tea cozy is an object that looks like a ski hat and is used to improve the tea brewing process by covering the tea pot). Hasan underlined the social value of the tea cozy in a number of social ceremonies such as the first meeting between families in arranged marriages. All I could think as I was listening to his fascinating narration was that a tea cozy hides the process of tea brewing, as do the majority of the objects I have chosen for this third set in the blog (21 to 30) such as the tea pot, the samovar, the pressure cooker or the bamboo steamer. Most of these objects are about water, sustenance and hiding: they work with water to provide sustenance in a way that keeps the process hidden to the user. The process of cooking with a pressure cooker still marvels me: I saw my mother using a pressure cooker almost daily during my childhood in Spain. She took it from the shelf, added raw vegetables, abundant water, a bit of olive oil, paprika, a pinch of salt and pepper, twisted the lid shut and, in ten minutes…voila! the vegetable soup was ready. We simply take the cooker for granted, but in reality it is a miraculous catalyst that transforms separate things into a complex cultural item: a good meal.

30. Butter churn

As a verb, churning means to move vigorously. This meaning is specifically applied to the making of butter, the process of transforming a fat-in-water emulsion (milk) into a water-in-fat emulsion (butter). In most world cultures, butter making was done in butter churns, devices designed to agitate cream milk until it became butter. Some butter churns were static, and the stirring of the milk was done by movable blades turned on axle by a crank. In Continental Europe and subsequently in the United States, butter churns were large objects usually made out of wood, following the techniques of barrel making. In many parts of Africa and the Middle East, butter churns were ceramic objects of extraordinarily advanced forms, and the process of shaking the milk was done by swinging the object. In Kurdistan, know as the Fertile Crescent due to its agricultural importance for the surrounding region, butter is still today produced in burnished earthenware butter churns similar to the one in the picture. It dates back from 1920s. Its streamlined distinctive biconical form, swollen in the middle and narrow at the ends, is specifically designed for motion: it hangs lengthwise so that it can swing from ropes attached to its body. Protruding discs on each end of its body avoid the slippage of the ropes and thus allow for agitation as firm as needed. The object is about 50 cm. (19.5 in.) high and 50 cm. wide and yields enough butter for a family's weekly consumption.

29. Mate

In pre-colonial South America, la yerba mate (mate grass) was the main element in the diet of Guaraní Indians in the Plata region. They chewed the leaves of the mate plant all day long and carried them at all times in small pouches called guayacas. In the 17th century, given its rising popularity, the Jesuits established cultivation areas despite the fact that many voiced that mate infusions had diabolical properties. The therapeutic benefits of mate infusions include plenty of vitamins, minerals and antioxidants. It is commonly accepted that its continued ingestion positively helps regulating mental and physical bodily processes, increases awareness and physical resistance, and does not hinder sleep. Mate is also the name of the vessel where mate grass is brewed. It is a small container crafted out of dried pumpkin, enameled ceramic, rare wood or bone, and designed to fit ergonomically in one hand since it does not have a handle. Some mates are decorated with ornate silver rims or bases. The infusion is sipped through the bombilla, a thin metal straw about 20 cm. (8 in.) long finished in a perforated spoon-like element that acts as a sieve to separate liquid and leaves. Mate´s current locale includes parts of Brasil, Uruguay, Paraguay and Argentina, where the cultural value of mate brewing is ubiquitous: it has a presence in urban domestic environments and it is also linked to the identity of gauchos, the free-spirited horsemen from la pampa who are avid mate consumers.

28. Ronnefeldt tilting teapot

Tilting as a process contradicts the logic of tea brewing. Intuitively, making tea is about repose; it is about pouring, waiting and waiting a bit more while leaving the teapot where tea is brewing undisturbed. Years ago, I saw my first tilting teapot in a Midwestern hotel without even knowing it was a clumsy knock-off of the original Ronnefeldt tilting teapot. Plagiarizing objects is one of the most fundamental aspects of design and a tilting teapot is easy to plagiarize because everyone understands the principle –and says aha!- once one sees it for the first time. A tilting teapot is a low-tech object based on common sense, a rare design quality that often marvels us to find in what we call well-designed objects. The Ronnefeldt tilting teapot is designed to visually display the different stages of tea brewing by changing position in a process of reverse tilting: the teapot lays on its back to introduce the tea leaves in a small interior shelf and pour the hot water in the main compartment. As the tea darkens, the pot is tilted up to about 60 degrees to better control the brewing process. Finally, when the tea is ready, the teapot is tilted upright so that the water is no longer in contact with the tealeaves and the brew does not become bitter. The form of the teapot is unassuming and neutral, a bit shy perhaps in comparison to the brilliance of its functional principle.