I write with slick keys embedded in a slim aluminum-clad machine on a laminated plywood table. What’s missing? Survey your surroundings and note the un-smooth things commonly touched.
I fondly remember my
Fingers can starve in this slippery world. If the range of texture our fingers felt translated to what our mouth felt, we would eat most of our meals pureed.
Cooking delights the hands if you use few utensils, as does eating if you forgo flatware.
One of the most frustrating museum policies is Do Not Touch. Art has become one of the last frontiers of texture experimentation. To see the subtle topography of paintings without touching takes great restraint.
Perhaps the visual appearance of texture satisfies most people, and they are in luck. But I want to delight my fingers with unknown or rare sensations like grabbing a fistful of spaghetti. Eyes enjoy both the simple smooth surface and texture, so why does one dominate our material culture? Smoothness belies an efficiency or aerodynamics. Perhaps we should accommodate a little inefficiency for our hands’ sake.