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- Jan 21, 2000
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I find my love of knives mirrored in many of the above posts. I might offer another suggestion or two.
We have little to tell us what our distant ancestors felt for their blades, but we do know that edged tools and weapons were possibly the first man-modified instruments. It seems likely to me that those first purposefully edged creations must have inspired both awe and pride of ownership in the user.
My archaeologist neighbor tells me the measure of the difference between the capabilities of Cro-Magnon man and Neanderthal man, whom Cro-Magnon displaced, is typically demonstrated by citing how much linear edge each could produce from a pound of obsidian. Neanderthal got about 12 inches and Cro-Magnon about 12 feet--an order of magnitude. These were entire sub-species of humans whom anthropologists have come to define by their blade-making abilities. The metals ages also have been used to categorize whole chronological segments of human history, largely by improvements in blade materials.
Throughout recorded history, the centers of the bladesmiths' arts have commanded a reverence and respect unrivalled by any similar endeavor. What other issue from the hand of man can claim to have given rise to the reputations of entire cities--Damascus, Toledo, Solingen, Sheffield, Seki? Blades--alone.
The blade itself--any blade--is a metaphor awaiting an allusion. Edges are where mystery begins; where supposition often ends; where trials meet their proof; where imagination meets reality. The edge of our own dichotomy lies within us, just as an edge defines our outermost reach. From the defense of innocents to the conquests of empires; from the blades on the belts of armies defending the existence of civilizations to the blades of lone men surviving in lands beyond the pale of civilization--the blade has been there whenever we have dared and prevailed. Elegantly. Beautifully. Simply. Utterly.
And here we stand, surviving all, daring all, confidently flying free into the unknown of a new millennium, wondering, "Why do we love knives?"
My question: "What poor, shallow soul could possibly not?"
We have little to tell us what our distant ancestors felt for their blades, but we do know that edged tools and weapons were possibly the first man-modified instruments. It seems likely to me that those first purposefully edged creations must have inspired both awe and pride of ownership in the user.
My archaeologist neighbor tells me the measure of the difference between the capabilities of Cro-Magnon man and Neanderthal man, whom Cro-Magnon displaced, is typically demonstrated by citing how much linear edge each could produce from a pound of obsidian. Neanderthal got about 12 inches and Cro-Magnon about 12 feet--an order of magnitude. These were entire sub-species of humans whom anthropologists have come to define by their blade-making abilities. The metals ages also have been used to categorize whole chronological segments of human history, largely by improvements in blade materials.
Throughout recorded history, the centers of the bladesmiths' arts have commanded a reverence and respect unrivalled by any similar endeavor. What other issue from the hand of man can claim to have given rise to the reputations of entire cities--Damascus, Toledo, Solingen, Sheffield, Seki? Blades--alone.
The blade itself--any blade--is a metaphor awaiting an allusion. Edges are where mystery begins; where supposition often ends; where trials meet their proof; where imagination meets reality. The edge of our own dichotomy lies within us, just as an edge defines our outermost reach. From the defense of innocents to the conquests of empires; from the blades on the belts of armies defending the existence of civilizations to the blades of lone men surviving in lands beyond the pale of civilization--the blade has been there whenever we have dared and prevailed. Elegantly. Beautifully. Simply. Utterly.
And here we stand, surviving all, daring all, confidently flying free into the unknown of a new millennium, wondering, "Why do we love knives?"
My question: "What poor, shallow soul could possibly not?"