Saturday 25 February 2023

THE FISH LETTER OPENER – FORM BEYOND FUNCTION


We had seen it in the Lerwick antique shop a few times, but had put the idea of ownership aside: this time we gave in.




It is a quirky piece; a letter opener with a horn handle. This description might make this item sound suave and stylish, rather like the marvellous stag horn-handled Lacey knives we purchased on our way to Inverness - but no. The little object had a unique identity of its own. It brings a smile to the face every time one looks at it. The handle is a piece of bull’s horn that has been minimally shaped and carved to give the appearance of a fish. The similitude is brought to life with a pair of glass eyes.


Knives and spoon made by John A Lacey, Horn Carver, Aberfeldy, Lawers, Perthshire.




The instrument is remarkable in its twinness: a bladed cutter one way; a fish with its mouth open on the other. Despite being somewhat diagrammatic, it is readily recognisable. One might call the carving ‘naive.’ The expressive, crude, freehand cuts in the horn frame the mouth and indicate fins on each side of this dramatic opening that gasps as it seeks to gulp or grab.




Surprisingly, the handle is ergonomically efficient. It is exactly the form it needs to be for the thrust and cut action needed to open a letter. While looking rather awkwardly threatening with its long, sharp, slender blade, the instrument is comfortable to use; it fits the hand perfectly.#





The joyous innocence of this piece highlights how the simple opportunity of ‘seeing as’ can add so much more to a form. Modernism’s chosen rigour and singular purity becomes mean and shallow, hollow, when opportunities such as the one that this little letter opener offers as an example, reveals the potential of form beyond function. Tradition knew of this enrichment and used it frequently.


Bronze duck lamp.

Silver fish box.

Glass fish bottle.

One has to ask: are we too quick to categorise things as ‘kitsch,’ perhaps too smugly arrogant; too dismissive of the engaged eye that revels in matching? - “Oh, it looks like a . . . !” What opportunities are we missing? What delights do we push aside while we muddle about with bespoke deformities instead of articulating similarities that can help us know more of our world? Why should we not become engaged in this marvellous experience of multiple seeing? The proposition has to be understood as just being ‘more,’ as there is no detrimental impact on the ideal of form following function. Purposefulness is there in every way, along with the statement that this is also something else – something integrally intertwined in function, just adding to how we might see and experience our world, and delight in it.




Less is never more; less is mean: more is meaningful.



#

NOTE

The fish made a good handle; see – https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2014/03/what-is-handle.html. It is interesting to observe the transition between what can be seen as a handle at the base of the blade transforming into a fish as the handle grows in girth.





One needs to ponder the thoughts of the maker: did the craftsman/woman ‘see’ the fish handle opportunity and then make it; or did he/she fit the horn and discover the possibility? Where did the eyes come from? When? What instrument was used to cut the mouth? What was used to carve the detail? When were the decisions to carve, and what to carve, made?




P.S.



On the multiplicity of meanings in form, one has to mention Christopher Trotter’s sculptures. These intricate pieces use industrial and machine refuse, individual parts that are all clearly recognisable, assembled to create the forms of living things like kangaroos, pelicans, and fish. Each part is used expressively, without apology or deformation, with its form and function replicating that of the concept, energizing it with a remarkable inner strength that declares itself to the eye as the unique representation of the living thing. The eye dances across this expression as it reads and recognises the various parts taken from their functional context, now part of a kangaroo, a fish, a pelican, . . . The works are true transformations, nothing like the jokey, schematic images one sees made out of farrier’s nails.




Horseshoe nail art.



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