Yes. A knob slows us down. It asks for intention, for pause. Before entering or exiting, we reach, turn, and wait.
Knobs mark the start and end of spaces, of tasks, of routines. Opening cupboards, closing drawers, entering rooms, each action begins with this small gesture.
They are. Long before we sit or settle, we engage through the hand. The knob becomes a handshake, a greeting from the architecture, an offering of entry or closure.
Absolutely. Over time, a knob softens. It remembers. The finish fades, the metal warms.
Yes. They serve a task, yes, but with shape, material, and placement, they evoke feeling. A brass curve on an old wooden door doesn’t just open it.