A craftsperson understands things by examining their structure. She asks how things are made, what material and technologies were used to make them, and why. Depending upon her experience and level of awareness, she perceives an ingenious kind of transparency in things, which reveals the manufacturing process and the resources utilized in it. This knowledge is the foundation for a symmetrical relationship between subject and object that is carried on via utilization. This understanding evokes a sense of empathy that can limit waste, which must then be justified.
Design and manufacture, however, only prove themselves through intense and repeated usage. They can be called successful when they produce so-called favorite pieces that users love and continue to use; even when they are worn out, they are simply repaired. This is anything but the avoidance of consumerism. On the contrary, with this kind of constant use, practiced without any sort of moral compulsion, you have an entirely fortunate kind of consumption. The item becomes a real companion. It exposes symmetry between the user and the object.
A few years ago, while working on my uniform project, I devised an experiment with time that I pursued over a period of several years in order to better understand the procedure that results in this kind of utility. It’s like a building block set for clothing, which allows me to define the minimum number of pieces I would need in order to wear the same thing everywhere, at all times. In this way I wanted to find out what I did, in fact, need. Because the character of things is revealed through repetition. Over time, repetition and variation bring to light characteristics that remain hidden in the single moment. In a momentary experience, these characteristics remain invisible, insignificant, or layered over with external influences.