I have known about Japanese maker Hidetoshi Nakayama for probably 15 years or more.

I first met him at a knife show — possibly in France, possibly in the US. That part has become a little blurry.

What I do remember very clearly is being immediately struck by his work.

I first discovered his beautiful wood carvings, and ever since then I have wanted one of his small slipjoints with a frog carved into the handle.

His pens are a different thing altogether, but they have that same feeling of an object where craftsmanship and personality are difficult to separate.

Each is individually turned and carved from steel. They are small, functional objects, but there is an enormous amount going on when you start looking closely.

What caught my eye?

If I have to pick one thing, it’s the contrast between the different surface finishes.

There is something about the dark patinated steel, the polished surfaces and the small carved details that reminds me of old Japanese sword fittings.

The surfaces make you want to keep looking at the object — and turning it in your hand.

 

What makes it work?

It starts with something completely ordinary and useful: a pen.

Although I have to admit, I don’t think I have ever actually written or drawn anything with either of these.

What interests me is the combination of that familiar function with Nakayama’s carving and metalwork. The mild steel has been worked by hand and then patinated, giving the pieces a depth and age that I find very appealing.

I have seen some of his more recent work in polished steel. Technically beautiful, but it doesn’t give me quite the same feeling.

For me, the patina is an important part of what makes these work.

 

 

What would I steal?

Not literally, obviously.

But as a designer and knifemaker, I’m always interested in what I can take away from objects outside my own work.

With these pens, it is probably the one-of-a-kind quality that stays with me.

My everyday work involves repeatability, tolerances, CNC machining and making a design work consistently across multiple pieces. These pens remind me of the other end of that spectrum.

Tiny differences. Handwork. Surface treatments that don’t need to be completely identical. Details that exist simply because the maker decided they should.

Even the small hand-engraved signature adds something. It makes it very clear that this particular object passed through one particular maker’s hands.

There is something in that worth remembering.