I have to ask my brethern.
When you see certain patterns of traditional pocket knives, does it bring to mind any mental imagery? Or maybe I'm nuts.
For example, I see a barlow, especially a well used old one, and it brings to mind the creak of saddle leather, smell of sulfur black powder smoke, a battered coffee pot on a campfire. Same for a stockman. Or if its a well used old two blade jackknife, I see a working man or tradesmen, maybe carrying a lunch box, a factory. A sheepsfoot sailors knife always makes me thing of the smell of damp canvas, reefer coats, and maybe a slim hulled schooner running a blockade.
And especially when smiling-knife posts some of his Sheffield beauties, I think of soft carpet drawing rooms, fine brandy in crystal glasses, and Victorian gentlemen discussing the goings of the empire.
Sometimes I look at old knives and try to put them in an era, to figure out when it was carried and then think about who would have carried it. Sometimes I see images of people in old wool tweed coats, horse drawn taxi's and wagons. Old factories with the big shaft running across the ceiling with belts coming down to turn lathes and drills.
Or am I nuts, and it's time for Karen to sit me in the chair and give me the rubber knives to play with?
Mom always told me I had an over active imagination.
But it doesn't happen with new knives of that pattern, just the real old ones from a time past.
When you see certain patterns of traditional pocket knives, does it bring to mind any mental imagery? Or maybe I'm nuts.
For example, I see a barlow, especially a well used old one, and it brings to mind the creak of saddle leather, smell of sulfur black powder smoke, a battered coffee pot on a campfire. Same for a stockman. Or if its a well used old two blade jackknife, I see a working man or tradesmen, maybe carrying a lunch box, a factory. A sheepsfoot sailors knife always makes me thing of the smell of damp canvas, reefer coats, and maybe a slim hulled schooner running a blockade.
And especially when smiling-knife posts some of his Sheffield beauties, I think of soft carpet drawing rooms, fine brandy in crystal glasses, and Victorian gentlemen discussing the goings of the empire.
Sometimes I look at old knives and try to put them in an era, to figure out when it was carried and then think about who would have carried it. Sometimes I see images of people in old wool tweed coats, horse drawn taxi's and wagons. Old factories with the big shaft running across the ceiling with belts coming down to turn lathes and drills.
Or am I nuts, and it's time for Karen to sit me in the chair and give me the rubber knives to play with?
Mom always told me I had an over active imagination.
But it doesn't happen with new knives of that pattern, just the real old ones from a time past.
