Meet the Maker

Like many knifemakers before me, I first became interested in knives as a young child. I had a multi-blade slipjoint that my father gave me to use in my Boy Scouting adventures. It served me well, but eventually rusted out. I was headed on a camping trip and needed a knife to take with me. I borrowed my Grandfather's small "jack knife". While using it to prepare my campsite, I cut myself straight across my middle finger. I bled for what seemed like an eternity! The cut was amazingly clean and straight...I hadn't felt any pain. While I sat holding a compress in my hand, I had plenty of time to ponder knives and more importantly, sharpness. My quest had begun, but it would be years before I truly understood it.

Having always been interested in design, I enrolled in a private art college and pursued a degree in Architecture. It's hard to imagine two professions farther apart from each other, but for me, the two actually compliment one another. Architectural projects are long and laborious, sometimes taking years to accomplish. There are literally millions of parts and pieces to a building and each has to be carefully considered. Conversely, a knife project can be completed in a much shorter time, can be held in your hand, and is made of relatively few pieces. But that's where the differences end and the similarities begin. In both, attention to minute detail is key to a successful and functional product. Both rely on creativity to arrive at a solution to a design challenge. And in both, the end result is not only greater than the sum of its parts, but can (and should) be both functional and beautiful.

Over the years, I have collected various knives - ranging from miniatures to machettes. But none was as revolutionary to me as my first khukuri. I had been exposed to the "bent blade" a few times in the past, but had never taken interest. Well, the day came and my first order arrived - a 15" British Army Service model from Himalayan Imports. I was stunned, to say the least. The knife was amazing in its broad uses and practicality. Clearly, here was a knife that represented thousands of years of careful, albeit pragmatic, design. Yet, it was, in the same breath, incredibly beautiful. I have handled hundreds of khukuris since then - collecting, repairing, sharpening and just admiring.

The transition into knifemaking was, for me, like a journey - rather than a "plunge". I did not immerse myself "all at once", but did it gradually over time...here a little, there a little. It first began by repairing broken knives. I have always enjoyed taking something old and giving it a new life, from furniture to automobiles. Fixing up an old knife was a natural first step. The outcome was satisfying, though immature. After a few more tries, I began to see my own potential. I showed my work to others and picked up my first "commissions". I knew that in order to perform the work in a way that would be pleasing to myself as well as to the knife's owner, I would need better tools. It was time, also, to revisit the subject of sharpening. I poured over several books, read information online and picked the minds of others skilled in the art. My conclusions led me to the convex edge - which I continue to study today. Many knives have passed my hands, the best of which I have included in the Gallery section of this website. Each new project presents its own design challenges and with it comes study and learning. I approach each knife as a one-of-a-kind piece, even when following patterns.

Shortly after moving to Arkansas in 2004, I was invited to the shop of a nearby knifemaker, Tom Krein. Over the past two years I have spent increasingly more time "studying" under Tom and, in general, just horsin' around. My grinding skills have grown in leaps and bounds and both my production quality and speed have improved. My first knife took roughly 20 hours to finish...whereas now I can start and finish 1-2 knives per "day". I've also learned much about the business side of knifemaking and the importance of having the right tools for the right job.

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In online forums, I often choose the handle "pendentive". A pendentive is an architectural element that allows a circular dome to be placed on a square base. A brilliant solution to the "circle peg in a square hole" problem. Literally, "Where the Circle Meets the Square". This is akin to how I view the design process. The Square, for me, represents the pragmatic, functional aspect of design. A constant reminder that the end result must be usable. The Circle represents the beautiful part of design - that is, in every project, function should not overstep beauty, but should work with it hand-in-hand. The end result should be a fair balance between function and beauty. To me, that is what puts the joy into design.

Daniel Koster