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EDITOR’S LETTER On the Virtue of Resistance
Within these pages, we do not review objects. We apprentice ourselves to them. We asked potters, perfumers, and stone carvers: What does it mean to be resisted by your tools? Their answers form a quiet manifesto for the tactile life. pao collection magazine
| The Smell of a Book Binding Perfumer Lila Georges reverse-engineers the scent of a 1926 calfskin spine: notes of vanillin, cellulose rot, and iron gall ink. EDITOR’S LETTER On the Virtue of Resistance Within
Welcome back to the grain.
In a Copenhagen loft, curator Elin Moos owns a Finn Juhl, a Børge Mogensen, and an anonymous 18th-century farmer’s stool. She refuses to own a sofa. “A catalog is a graveyard of desire,” she tells us. Her philosophy: Acquisition must be followed by a three-month “quarantine” during which the object is used daily, then rejected or kept based on wear alone. We photograph the stool’s saddle—dipped four centimeters by 270 years of a single family’s weight. *Towels, terry, and the Japanese tenugui . By Maya Indigo Their answers form a quiet manifesto for the tactile life
We spend three days with Mori-san, who refuses gloves. Her Shigaraki tea bowls are legendary for their koge —a charred, glassy scar that occurs only when a piece of pine ash lands just so during the 1,300°C firing. “A mistake is a memory,” she says, pulling a bowl from the ash bed. “The fire remembers where your thumb hesitated.”